Cupcake McFrosticles

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Last week, I thought I would be productive and change my name officially after 5 months of marriage. It’s surprising how easy it is to do. No one questions your sanity, your motives or your name (and it’s FREE!)

I really considered changing it to something involving cupcakes and She-Ra right there on the spot. The only thing stopping me was all the subsequent paperwork I would have to complete to do so: taxes, bank accounts, etc.

With common sense dominating the greater part of my morning, I changed only my last name to include a hyphen and my new married name. And keep in mind, when I say common sense, I mean, there has to be a grander way to shame my whole family. A social security card isn’t one of them.

Regardless of practical revenge grounding my name musings, I walk up to the counter, paperwork in hand, and promptly pass the clerk my Living Social cupcake coupon.

D’OH!

It’s soon apparent that I need to clean my purse, and my Id is sabotaging any efforts from my Super Ego to retain some level of normalcy. Luckily, I DID have the correct paperwork in hand, but I still felt a fool. A cupcake lovin’, disorganized fool. Luckily still, they let me change my name regardless of my mental level of output for the day.

So, Social Security Office, thank you.

Sincerely,
Princess of Cupcake-Power

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Whew.

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Is it really November? I think I need a slower calendar.
I’ve been noticeably absent for the past several weeks, but with good reason.

I got hitched! Graeme and I tied the knot on September 26, at the Stillwell House. 13 months of planning, two dresses, and one bridezilla moment later I made it down the aisle!

I heard over and over from friends and family, to really enjoy the day, because it flies by so quickly. And it’s true.

However, I was able to enjoy every fleeting second of it. From the moment I woke up (not from an eye punch) to the moment I placed my weary made-up face and false goopy eyelashes on that soft pillow and fell asleep, I relished every moment.

We just received the photos this week, so once I have a moment to sort through all the double-chins (mine), half-closed eyes (mine) and awkward, off-camera glances (again, mine), I’ll be sure to post them to my flickr account.

So far, married life is grand and nothing has changed except for the amount of metal I carry on my finger 9 hours of the day.

And if you ask me when we’re having babies, please understand the nature of my response in advance. It’s just the look of pain I give each time an ovary cringes.

I can obliterate zombie gremlins with the flick of my wrist and green pearlescent dice.

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A few months ago, I finally gave into the dark-side and joined a guild upon the invitation of my friend, Larry. He read my post about D&D, and invited me to join his group. Let me just say – this ish is complex.

Books.
Origins.
Skills.
Religions.
Alliances.
Names.
Weapons.
Figurines.
Multipliers.

This is definitely a sub-culture I had a lot to learn about. But rather than become overwhelmed by tasks, I gave into my girly tendencies and elected to engage in arts and crafts.

I was so excited to paint my character, I researched painting techniques, shopped for colors, and tested brushes. She finally arrived and I spent several days painting two pewter inches of my Dragonbourne Sorceress. I deliberated color choices and the fashionable appeal of my character’s garments. I also discovered lilac and primrose are the perfect complement to blazing orange. Additionally, these colors help in defeating bosses.

I can prove it.

During this time, I probably should have been studying how to actually play the game, but I’ve never been one to turn down the opportunity to play with a feather collar. You might call me a dork and I might attempt to bludgeon you with my pasty, noodle-like arms. However, you have to admit – Tyrnea kicks a little posterior.

My bling distracts you as I engulf you with flames.

My bling distracts the enemy so I can engulf them in flames.

More Fairs!

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This time, of the bridal variety.

I didn’t think I would enjoy these type of events, however, free cake can motivate me to do just about anything. I’m not a fan of pushy crowds or pushy salespeople, but red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting? Yes, please! And: No, I wasn’t at this cake booth earlier. Yes, please!

I have to say though, if it weren’t for Jenny (who should legally change her name to Fantabulous), I wouldn’t have nearly as much fun. Having someone who shares the same level of enthusiasm for my wedding day as I do, has been a great experience.

She carries my heavy bags filled with flyers and magazines, offers helpful advice coveted by random strangers, and zips my back fat into dresses without complaint. There should be a medal made for her display of valor (but I don’t know when the next medal fair swings into Tucson).

Thanks to her assistance I won a bartending gift set, $500 coupon for a photobooth, and a $500 dress. Woot. Woot. And WOOT! If my wedding day goes half as smoothly as the planning, Bridezilla’s reign will be kept at bay.

Thank you, Cake. Thank you, Free Dress. Thank you, Maid of Honor (i.e. Made/Maid of Kick-Assery).

Rosemary’s Purse.

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The black bars are to protect the innocent...except from my purse.

The black bars are to protect the innocent...except from my purse.

This purse looks completely harmless. Utterly defenseless and nothing but docile. However, looks can be deceiving. When melded with the shoulder belonging to someone such as myself, this unsuspecting and quite fashionable purse transforms into a weapon of minor destruction.

 

So far, I’ve knocked this handbag into approximately 582 cars over the course of three months. My inability to grasp the simple “large objects require more space” principle, has created a small-time terror threat to every bumper within a three-mile radius. I simply cannot manage to carry this purse anywhere without pummeling several unassuming vehicles.

 

As if bumpers weren’t bad enough, Rosemary’s purse has collected enough DNA to repopulate a small island. Genetic codes have been swiped from the following: old people, little people, smelly people, mean people, and kid people. My purse has without a doubt, knocked each subset of the American population a good one (from coast to coast, mind you). I could probably apologize and remedy the situation, but given the demonic nature of my carryall, I fear what it could do to me if it happened to detect any signs of weakness on my part. Read on…

 

However, this purse has finally seen it’s last act of terror. While perusing the local craft store (and maintaining a safe distance of three feet from the nearest shelf) my handbag somehow managed to knock down the largest acrylic box which featured edges sharper than a Ginsu knife, and took careful aim to direct it towards my leg. Arts & Crafts Time has officially turned into a bloodsport. I thought I could evade it’s sadistic nature, but this purse is obviously a bad seed.

 

After limping to the bathroom to sop up the trail of blood before it ran into my shoe, I came to the realization that I needed to exact my own revenge. Yet, I soon found out I overestimate my ability to connive. The best punishment I could come up with was to give it the ol’ stink eye during the ride home. This did nothing to the purse but it probably gave me premature wrinkles.

 

So for now, the purse is hanging in my closet, awaiting it’s next victim. It taunts me each time I open the door, laughing at my weakness, and celebrating the day I brought it home with a skip in my step.

Pansy.

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Guess who attended a fair last week?! If you guessed me and 13,000 other people, you’re spot on. (OK, OK…a month ago. I forgot to post this draft)

This time I was eager to attend a fair because it didn’t involve jobs, online applications, and quasi-high school reunions. Heck, I even have a stuffed red dolphin to show for it!

The best part of it all? The food. I really don’t mind risking e coli contamination for just a sampling of the hot dogs and funnel cake. However, the ferris wheel? Freaked me right out.

You wouldn’t think the most docile of all the rides would be the one sending me into a spiral of panic. Two minutes into my ride of terror I was planning my escape and assessing potential leg fractures from the jump. Some call this pathetic, I call this resourceful.

I only realized what a sissy I was being when I caught sight of the maniacal ride next to me. People were flung around, tossed upside down, pummeled sideways and paying $4 to do so. That’s a ride I really wouldn’t like. So I did what any normal person in a time of uncertainty would do: I thought of those worse off than me. At the very least, my ride didn’t make Iron Maidens look like a fun alternative.

Only broken femurs.

An eyeball party.

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Don’t think I’ve forgotten about this blog, I’ve just been super busy. I’ve also written a few posts that I haven’t yet worked up the courage to post here. In the meantime, I thought it would be nice to show you visual representations of my daily comings and goings.

Observe:

Irish Cream Cupcakes

A lesson in density.










I thought it would be fun to create Irish Cream cupcakes for St. Patty’s Day. My cousin had the best. cake. ever. at his wedding, and I wanted to re-create the taste bud excitement at home. Unfortunately, these were the heaviest cupcakes I’ve ever encountered. Four cups of sugar for this recipe caused my counter to sag from the weight. (3 points if you caught the South Beach Diet cookbook in the back and my obvious betrayal of the glycemic index)












A forehead with it's own gravitational pull.

A forehead with it's own gravitational pull.










This is our third Chihuahua, Rufus. He’s the cutest guy ever and I’m still in awe of his massive cranium. Try to wake up to this in the morning and not weep rainbows.








Nasal delight.

Nasal delight.










I recently visited the local plant nursery and was taken aback by the overwhelming scent from the fruit trees. I didn’t want to leave this place. If being a philobotanist is wrong, I don’t want to be right.














Cookies and cream.

Cookies and cream.










I’m all for supporting small businesses. I know that in order to make profits, a mark-up is needed. However, why throw it back in my face that I paid 75 cents for a 50 cent candy bar? This makes me want to undermine your business potential and start selling my own snacks for 70 cents. All I need are sweatshops creating cheap shoes and I’m opening my own Trish-Mart (and the government subsidizing my desire to avoid paying my employees a living wage…)










Mischevious chocolate adventures.

Mischevious chocolate adventures.










Can you think of a better use of chocolate? I didn’t think so.














Sleeping cat.

Sleeping cat.








Aside from whiffs of heaven at the plant nursery, I came across this cat soundly sleeping amongst the pottery. I thought this was the cutest thing and couldn’t help but marvel at his ability to relax even with all the commotion going on around him/her. One life lesson learned.










Green tea cupcake

Matcha!










Although I’m adept at destroying cupcake recipes by the dozen, these did manage to turn out right. Sort of. My first attempt at these cupcakes started with being sold the wrong tea from Cost Plus. FYI: Just because it SHOWS matcha powder on the can and reads “Matcha Powder”, doesn’t necessarily mean it is a powder. The first batch resembled “special” cupcakes more than anything else (minus the good time).