The Best of the Worst

One of the greatest challenges I’ve found in ‘blogging’ is creating interesting and entertaining posts on an (almost) weekly-basis. If I don’t have anything to write about, I refuse to force myself to write. The end result is always that my readers must force themselves to read; it doesn’t work out for anyone. I will only write if I’m excited about something, if I’m inspired or interested enough by the subject matter that the story (or in this case, the post) writes itself. But I have made a commitment to my readers to post as regularly as possible and so at times, I do find myself stretching for new ideas. This has resulted in some really bad and embarrassing posts that fortunately, were abandoned before they were ever published.

I try to keep in mind that the best ideas often plant their roots within the worst. They rise up from the manure that has fertilized their roots and blossom into a wonderful creation that can stand tall on its own. Excuse my bluntness, but I also feel it’s important not to forget the shit you had to get through to reach your eventual goal. And, in my case, sometimes “the shit” turns out to be even more entertaining than the actual end result. Or at least it can be once you’ve gained enough perspective to look back and laugh at yourself (re: The Cake That Everybody Ate but No One Ever Saw)

And with that being said, here are some of the best of my worst ideas for blog entries. I encourage you to laugh:


“The Sugar Cleanse”
An overview of journal entries from a sugar addict/chocoholic’s (my) experience on a self-imposed (and husband-suggested) sugar-free diet for ten days. I thought it might be funny/interesting to record my experiences… it wasn’t. It basically ended up being three days of me complaining how hungry I was and then pathetically abandoning the whole thing so I could devour unsightly amounts of chocolate. Not pretty and not funny – not in the way it was supposed to be anyway.

“Ode to my Baby Daddy”
This one was a poem I wrote for my husband for Father’s Day. He never saw it – no one ever did. The “Ode” may make an appearance next year on Father’s Day; I’ll admit it had some potential hilarity mixed into its short, rhyming lines. There were some awful parts too though. I may have rhymed “dear” with “beer”, and “happily” with “pee” – I don’t think I need to explain why this one never saw the light of day.

“The Portrait Project”
A photographic investigation of portraiture as I attempted to capture my subjects’ “true beauty” through a series of bad shots (poor lighting, unflattering angles, badly-timed moments, etc.). The end result was a series of fugly photos (oh, how I enjoy that word!) that though hilarious, were certainly not what they were meant to be. Maybe one day these photos will resurface for your enjoyment, or for future blackmail purposes.

“The Right Lyrics”
You know how sometimes you think you know all the lyrics to a song, and then one day you’re singing along to your car radio and your passenger enlightens you on the fact that you are actually singing the words completely wrong (by laughing hysterically at you)? Well... this happens to me a lot. I started writing a post about all the song lyrics I’ve gotten wrong over the years but to be perfectly honest – it was just too ridiculous. I mean, how did I think Nelly saying, “Hey… must be the money!” sounded like “Hey… fuck you buddy!”? And then why would I decide to sing along so loudly… in public…?

Oh there are so many more embarrassing ideas to tell you about but you’ll have to be satisfied with these gems for now. And to thank you all for your support of my blog… here’s a teaser from the “Portrait Project”. It’s a self-portrait of me and my son. You’re welcome.

Suzi

The Cake that Everyone Ate but No One Ever Saw

My son recently turned one and for some inexplicable reason, I decided that I was going to bake and decorate his first birthday cake. I guess I forgot that I am not actually a baker and that maybe, just maybe, preparing a birthday cake might be harder than it looks. But I had this image of myself stuck in my mind, proudly carrying out a beautiful, delicious cake that everyone would ‘ooo’ and ‘ahhh’ over - and I was addicted to the idea.

Let me describe my son’s birthday cake to you. Picture a two layer, light and fluffy, organic, vanilla-banana cake that is in the shape of a dump truck. Between the two layers is a thin, sweet layer of pureed, fresh, organic blueberries. The whole cake is iced with smooth, creamy, vanilla, butter-cream frosting. The wheels of the dump truck are slices of orange and the design of the dump truck is neatly outlined in blueberries. It looks perfect. It tastes even better than it looks.

This is the cake that I imagined. Unfortunately, this is not the cake that I made.

The day before my son’s birthday I baked two beautiful, golden brown, organic, vanilla-banana cakes that were shaped like dump trucks. I wish I took pictures of them because they were gorgeous. I was so confident that the dream cake was about to become a reality. Apparently I lie to myself very well.

On the day of my son’s birthday, I waited until he was down for his nap before I began assembling the cake. Things went downhill fast.

First I put too much blueberry puree on the first layer, so it oozed down the sides in a sticky, unappetizing mess. Then I went to put the second layer on top and realized I’d put the puree on the wrong side of the bottom layer. In order to see the dump truck design on the cake, I had to put the top layer on the wrong way but then the edges of the two layers didn’t line up. Then I went to take the icing out the fridge (I had so cleverly made it up an hour before hand) and realized it had started to harden and was a chunky, unspreadable mess. I tried to spread it anyway. I was in total and complete denial.

After I finished smearing on the icing, I took a step back to examine my handiwork. I took a moment to debate whether to laugh or cry. Images of myself throwing the whole thing in the garbage can ran through my mind. I wondered if I bought a cake from the grocery store, if I could get away with taking credit for it? Then I remembered what an awful liar I am (except, of course, to myself). Next came the images of my family and in-laws holding back their laughter while I shame-facedly carried out the monstrous birthday cake. Nope, there was no way I could do that either.

So what did I decide to do? I couldn’t quite suck up my pride enough to laugh at myself, and I was too stubborn to give up and cry. So I cut that mother up.

The carefully sliced and served pieces actually looked pretty tasty sitting on the blue ‘1st Birthday’ paper plates I’d purchased. My fridge was filled with 14 pre-cut pieces of cake, all ready to be served and covered carefully with saran wrap.

I did have the sense of mind though to realize that there was a small chance, I might think this was funny later. I was home alone at the time and therefore had no one to bare witness to my shame. My pride is small and flexible enough though that I was able to pull out my camera and take a couple quick shots of the first birthday cake I’d ever baked and iced all by myself. At the time I swore to myself that no one was ever going to see those photos. But let’s face it - it’s pretty funny.

And so I present to you, the cake that no one saw.