Friday, June 4, 2010

Belatedly Foiled

I guess this could be filed under "Just when you think it's safe to go back in the water..."

Today, when I walked into the kitchen at work, I saw one of my co-workers throwing out the box from the ice cream cake which has been slowly dying in the freezer for the past month. I commented that it was about time that it went away, and the person looked at me and said "Well, we have to make room for someone else's, you know..." Which, of course, I took to mean that today there would be conference room cake for my birthday.

I was partially right.

At 1:30 we were all rounded up into the conference room where two cakes each had candles in them. Apparently another birthday was missed (this one in mid-May), as well as mine last week.

So, yes, there was the dirge-like singing of "Happy Birthday" with the oh-so-comical attempt to fit both of our names into the "dear whosywhatsits" line. And we each got to blow out candles. But then we actually got to get into the cakes. And they weren't bad.

There were mini white cupcakes with white frosting (sadly, it was whipped cream frosting, instead of buttercream). There was a lemon layer "loaf" with cream and lemon curd. And there was a "chocolate pudding cake" which was basically a glazed chocolate pound cake.

The lemon cake was the obvious winner for flavor and texture. Although the others held their own.

The semi-forced conversation wasn't too bad - I think because we were all so desperately ready for the week to be done. Although, when the other birthday "boy" answered the "how old are you?" question with "24" - and we found out he is NOT the youngest person in the office - that was a bit of a shock. (He commented that he's getting old. His party apparently went until 3am, but he passed out around 11...) When asked for my age, I simply said "a lot older than that" - which I figured was enough for everyone to know.

So, there we go. I survived both another birthday AND another forced social event at work. Yep, I seriously deserve the coming weekend. (As, I'm sure, do we all.)

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