Cake

When someone leaves a job they’ve been at for a while, or happens to be offered a job they’re excited about, the occasion is marked with celebration.  And cake.  Right?

Except…there was no cake.  We went out, to celebrate, and there was dessert, but no cake.  My co-workers took me out to lunch, but again, no cake.  My mother promised celebratory cake but delivered low-fat brownies.  Which were delicious, bless her, but NOT CAKE.

Is it so wrong to want to revel in spongy chocolate goodness, insincere congratulations written in alarmingly-colored butter cream icing, and not count the calories because it’s a special occasion?  Is it?  Where was my cake, dammit?

I got a little obsessed about the cake.

So much so, that on Friday, after my last day at work had passed and it became obvious that no cake was forthcoming, I broke down and bought my OWN cake.

It was possibly the ugliest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in the confectionary arts, and it was a whopping 7 dollars at WalMart, and as such it offended pretty much everything I believe in, but it was cake.

And it was delicious.

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