Maraschino Cherries.

I've got a huge fucking pink cake downstairs. It's massive. Literally, the size of my head. Maybe bigger. It's adorned with cherries and twenty-three partially used polka-dotted candles. A whopping eleven cups of icing sugar has been used to ice this beast of a pastry. ELEVEN. My teeth are currently rotting out of my head at an incredibly speedy capacity.
Mir found some crazy recipe for this mother somewhere in her shelves of cookbooks. It took her an hour to frost the inside layers of the cake and another hour to frost the outside. If you look closely upon cutting through the brick, you can actually see slight variations of the actual white, vanilla cake. Mostly, you see baby pink frosting, oozing out of every bit of this 18" wheel of infinite delicacy. It's sorta gross.

My birthday was celebrated on the twenty-eigth because of alternating plans amoungst the people who "count" in my existence. I didn't particularly mind, it gave me something to look forward to on an otherwise dull weekend away from work.
Andrew came down for the festivities, so did Stinky. My father, who is tremendously ill rolled out of bed, (probably more for the Cracker Barrell, than for my birthday) and Mir obviously, made me a massive sugar roll. It was nice.
Andrew exceeded my expectations upon telling me that he was going to pay for my tattoo as a birthday present. I was insanely overwhelmed because Andrew, from what I understood, never wanted me to have one. I was very giddy and excited. I then went into super overdrive, planning the placement and colours of my MUCHA mermaid. Stinky wrapped up a homemade card adorned by many Ben Folds pictures. She gave me the tickets for the concert, and included a note saying that my Ben Folds Fan Club Membership package was in the mail. That was a super rad birthday present. My Dad and Mir got me this crazy yellow princess phone and a whole bunch of gas cards to use for travelling purposes. I don't know why my father always insists on paying for things that can go towards the usage of our vehicles. It's kinda weird.

The birthday celebrations weren't bad in the slightest. I'm annoyed that I let the actual numerical day of my birth dictate my happiness. If it wasn't for all the cherries stuck in my cake, it would have been the best day ever.