I love me some cake. I've always loved me some cake. When Boo used to travel two to three days every week during football season, I would buy a one person cake the day he left and savor it the entire time he was gone. Lately, I can't seem to get enough cake. I think it started with BeFri talking about wedding cakes and progressed from there. Last weekend I even had cake, some really good cake and some kinda bad cake, yet it didn't really satiate my need for cake.
So I haven't really posted about Crazy lately and my insane job (and yes, this will tie into cake, just you wait and see) because though the insanity level at my workplace is still hovering around Red Alert, Give me a Gas Mask and a Straitjacket, the insanity has not been Crazy driven. In fact, for the last few months she has basically ignored me which is a wonderful, wonderful, thing. The silence on her part was a total blessing and I am totally kicking my own ass for messing that up (and yes, this will tie into cake, really, just have a little patience).
You see, on Tuesday, Crazy left some magazines on my desk. And instead of ignoring her like any smart person would do, I decided I was classy or honorable or some dumbass thing, and as she was walking by my office and not looking at me, I yelled out, "Thanks for the magazines!" And yes, I see the incongruity of all ghetto yelling "thanks!" while claiming to be a classy well bred broad offering my thanks but let's not talk about that, m'kay? So I shout my thanks like the ghetto girl I am and instead of a nod or a grunt she full on stops, comes into my office, and speaks in her little girl voice about how she wanted to say "Hi" to me but thought we weren't doing that because she said "Hi" to me twice and waived to me once and I totally ignored her. Oh, and in addition to using a baby voice she is doing this weird little girl dance that was totally disturbing.
So, she delivers her soliloquy and I say, "Well obviously I didn't hear you or see you because I would never rudely ignore someone on purpose." Which, for the record, is a total friggen lie. I would ignore, and have ignored, people, including her, on purpose. But though she has me beat in the crazy as hell department and lies more than anyone I know, I have her beat in the ability to lie well. Not that it necessarily was a lie, I don't remember ignoring her, maybe I really didn't see or hear her, or maybe I did. Either way, from that point on she got it into her head that we are friends which is bad, B.A.D., bad. Unlike cake which is very, very, good, and going to be tied back in. For real.
So on Wednesday Crazy came in and told me about a dream she had where the two of us were at some fancy outdoor ball/picnic where there was a shoe and fashion show. Now aside from the fact that I didn't want to hear about her dreams because no one ever wants to hear about other people's dreams because they tend to bore, I didn't want to hear about this because ew! Yuck! And, ick! She kept talking about it and I kept nodding my head wondering if she would go away and for how long would she stay away once she was gone and though she kept coming back to talk about her riveting dream, I left at noon and kinda blocked it out.
Which brings us to today. And cake. The fuckin whack job corners me on the stairs this morning as soon as I walked in the door and told me she brought me a cake. Since when did we have the type of relationship in which we bake cakes for each other? NEVER! We have never been, and will never be, cake exchanging friends, or even friends for that matter. Well turns out I must have had a look of horror on my face because I learned that she didn't bake me a cake, she got a free one last night from KFC and Crazy decided to bring the cake in and give it to Receptionist and me because we're "those people that eat cake." Um, "those of people"? People with mouths? People with tongues? People who like light fluffy sweet foods? What does that mean?
I rejected the offer of cake being that I still hadn't reached my desk, it was 8:00 a.m., I had a warm egg and cheese sandwich in my purse, and I was totally freaked out. So five minutes late she brings the cake into my office and puts it on my desk. I had had a few minutes to regroup so I again rejected the cake, gave some excuse about having my own breakfast and then mentally decide that I was going to stand up for all of "those people" and not eat her stinking cake. So there! Take that you wacko cake pusher!
Well wonders of wonders, at lunch time guess who walks by my office, with a piece of cake? Yep, Crazy. She is one of "those people" too! Ha! And she says, "It's not bad, not real good either, but not bad. It may have chunks of chocolate in it." And with that, my moral indignation of behalf of all "those people" went down the crapper. Because hello, chunks of chocolate! When I later finished my lunch, I had a slice of cake and it wasn't very good. But it was cake and so I'm not going to complain, even if it was Crazy cake.
Notwithstanding the cake, all of this buddy-buddyness is not working for me. I told Boo that I couldn't take this whole you-and-I-are-pals thing any more and that I was going to snap and do something to get back in on the silent treatment. But then he reminded me that I'm going to be needing something from her in the future and so I need to suck it up until then. So I will keep my mouth shut a little longer and hope that the next cake is vanilla. Or red velvet. I love me some good red velvet cake.