You talkin’ to me?

27 Sep

Frosting chick: Dude, have you seen the number of hits on the blog?

Fondant chick: More hits than Pete Rose back in the day.

Frosting chick: Yeah, and just about the amount of feedback he gets today, very little! How come nobody’s commenting on anything?

Fondant chick: Maybe we’re not interesting after all and our friends are blowing smoke up our patooties when they say they like it?

Frosting chick: C’mon, really? Would they keep ordering cakes if it were really all about the patootie smoke? SOMEBODIES are coming here, the question is, who?

Fondant chick: Aliens, then. Definitely aliens. They’re coming to steal our cake. I just know it. My mother-in-law says so.

Frosting chick: That would explain the sudden loss of aluminum foil in the shop… but perhaps they’re looking for something more. Like insight into the female psyche through witty and smart blog entries?
Fondant chick: Is hubby acting up again-because that sounds more like what women wish men would do. Maybe we’re so good that we leave nothing for our stalkers to say?
Frosting chick: READERS! They’re called “readers”! (*nod to “You’ve Got Mail)

Fondant chick: Ahem. Sorry. Readers. Stalkers=bad, readers=good. Got it. Please excuse my momentary confusion. The lack of comments must be affecting me terribly. Poor self esteem and all that.

Frosting chick: I dig. But we can’t let it get us down. Did you do your affirmation(s) today?

Fondant chick: Darn it! I forgot. All the wondering about the lack of comments has just filled my day. *Sigh* and I have so many other things I need to do. Why oh why don’t they comment? *Whimper* Why am I rejected yet again?
Frosting chick: Now, now, there, there. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation why were not getting any responses. *sniff sniff* we don’t smell…

Fondant chick: My son smells. Maybe that’s it? Naw, surely they can’t smell him all the way over there. Perhaps the awesomeness of our cakes leaves them speechless?

Frosting chick: Hey, if you can’t smell my hubby’s feet from your house, I doubt anyone can sniff out boy wonder. You might be onto something with this whole “awesomeness” thing, my affirmations tell me so. Following the philosophy of “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure”, perhaps our sweets can CHANGE THE WORLD!!!!!! Eh, sorry. Ok, so it’s not that… perhaps it’s stagefright on the readers part?

Fondant chick: Stagefright? Perhaps we should say something really stupid to make them feel safe? You know, “they have already written something so stupid what I type cannot possibly sink to that level.” Or have we already done that? Just in case we haven’t, I’ll start: I didn’t know Jimmy Hendrix was an African-American until I was in my 20’s. Not good enough? How about this: I cannot pronounce dragees or Tuscarawas or Worchestershire. Still not good enough? Okay, okay. I’ll deny this if it ever gets out, but I regularly fart in public. Hmm, maybe those aren’t stupid but are just private confessions. You got anything?

Frosting chick: Heck yeah! I, uh, can’t believe you didn’t know about Hendrix!
Let’s see…. I regularly retain my “Mother of the Year” status by feeding my ADHD crazy boy PB&J’s for dinner. Now that hubby is gone most nights, I don’t have to cook! I’m totally loathing the upcoming birthday cake I’m doing for next week.  I despise vacuuming. Oh, and I hate feet!

Fondant chick: Feet? Really? Well, I think knees are ugly, if that makes you feel better. Not just my knees, knees in general. Maybe they think we intimidate them? How about this: the first time I made a ball cake, it was raw in the middle. I swear I thought it was done. I checked it with a toothpick and everything. Or maybe this: I am initimidated by other people’s cakes. That is, right up until I see a professional’s work that is not that great. Then I wonder why I’m not rolling in the bucks and world famous. Or at least state famous.

Frosting chick: I getcha. Feet are like deformed hands at the bottom of your legs.  Ok, in tracing my ‘caking’ history, I must go back to the mid ’80’s. I decided that I could absolutely make a TMNT cake. Just the head, I wasn’t all turtle shell crazy. Anyway, to make a long story short, there was just something NOT right with his eyes, and we named him “Retardo”, in the fashion of Donatello, Leonardo, etc… I’m in my 40’s now, don’t make me try to name them. If I ever come across a pic of Retardo, I’ll post it right away.

Fondant chick: Oh, yeah- every cake I’ve ever done has something that is “not quite right.” If I’m lucky, that side becomes the back. If not, I keep my mouth shut and hope no one notices. You know what? They RARELY notice.
So c’mon! If you say something stupid, we promise not to notice. If you say something mean, we’ll try to slay you with a witty comeback. Not a mean one, one we can all laugh about. Stop leaving us hanging out here in cyberspace wondering if we should keep posting or throw in the spatula!

Frosting chick: Yeah, throw us a bone here. Got a question? If we don’t know the answer, maybe someone else who visits might! Got a cake coming up and need some ‘outside the box’ idea’s? We might be able to come up with a concept you haven’t thought of. Tap our creative minds, it’s free!

Fondant chick: Remember, we’re all in the same bowl of frosting together! Okay, that sounds odd. You know what I mean. We all have problems and ideas, even if those ideas turn out to be ones we should have left buried in the compost pile in our minds.

tn

Yeah, can you imagine what it was like to be in THIS bowl of frosting?

P1000614

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