Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Brobee Cake

My Wordpress site has finally directed a customer to me that was NOT referred there by anyone other than Google! Most of my client base has come from referrals or people who have eaten my goods and wanted my services. I've been out to dinner with people who supposedly wanted my services (cake or otherwise), but nothing had panned out to be lucrative for me or feasible for the size of my business. And these jokers ended up with me as a reluctant and angry dinner date. Hence, I was duped, and after that happened to me twice, I took my very awesome picture down from Wordpress.

Some lady emailed me a few months ago, looking for a Yo Gabba Gabba cake for her son's birthday. I sent her all the information with my set prices. She never wrote me back. This weekend, she called and asked for the cake. I stuck to my guns and didn't ease up in the price, almost hoping she would walk away because the last thing I want to do is sculpt Yo Gabba Gabba figures out of fondant. (Not that my Foofa didn't come out quite cute! Especially for a non-artist like me!)

So, she asked for Brobee as an edible image in the middle of the cake, and all the rest of them sculpted out of fondant and arranged around Brobee. Weird. I wanted to argue with her and tell her it would look better if....

Then I realized that I have a full 5-day work week at the fucking Day Job because I had to switch off so I can take next Friday off for doctor's appointments. I have several Irish Car Bomb cupcakes to drop off all over the city Thursday night, and even if I go straight home after the last delivery, it's going to be tight on time again. What's new? I'm constantly racing against time.

My energy levels still aren't back up to speed. I'm still always tired, even after I've taken the sleeping meds the doctor asked me to do on the weekends. I just feel like I'm dragging around 115 lbs of dead weight. Hopefully, after my tests next week my doctor will have some sort of solution for me. He already told me to get my ass back to the gym; even if it's for just a half hour each day. He seems to think that will get the endorphins pumping and get my energy back to where it's supposed to be. Given the fact that I fully own up to being a total lazy ass the last couple of months, I'm thinking he may be right.

So, I'm going to dust off my amateur sculpting skills and hope I can pull off the Yo Gabba Gabba bunch successfully. I already decided that the most tedious character is off the table because he's an edible image so I don't have to sculpt him. Good for me. (I still don't understand WHY she wanted it that way, but it's easier on me, so I'm not arguing.) I've already made a very successful Foofa, so I know it can be done. I charged her an extra $5.00 for each figure on top of the price of the cake. I hope that was enough. Something tells me I low-balled my price again, because she didn't even bat an eyelash when I gave her the total. Poop. >=/

As much bitching as I do about these cakes and my lack of allotted time, I have to admit that I'm loving it when I'm in the thick of it. It makes me sad and embarrassed when these parents are asking me for these cartoons and I have little to no idea what they're talking about. My children's cake research is done by Google, and I feel even worse when my peers with children laugh at my ignorance.

I don't have kids. I don't watch Nickelodeon anymore. I have no idea what's going on in the cartoon world, save for some South Park or Futurama episodes that happen to keep me company during my nightly bouts of insomnia. I know I'm out of the loop, and I won't be part of that world anytime soon. My mom stopped bugging me about marriage and kids. Now, she just pushes me to pump the business. Get my finances straight. Incorporate for real. Get my license. Get my food servers certification. Get my business legit. Lease a car. Look for an affordable space to open up a small store.

I don't need to be married to be happy, she tells me. Motherhood held her back, she admitted over drinks this past weekend. Not that she regrets having us; she just knows she could have gone farther if she was more careful. I told her she should have just had an abortion. No hard feelings. I meant it. Look at her now; 50 years old, horrible husband, horrible bitch of a daughter (the middle child), and then my brother and I. Not exactly material for brag books, you know?

Part of me was glad she isn't holding her breath waiting for a big white wedding. I saw her sadness when we walked through David's Bridal to get to the golf store the other day. We joked about the gaudy gowns, but I could see of the flash of sorrow on her face that we wouldn't ever be doing the mother/daughter dress buying thing. It's just not in the cards for me, and everyday I'm becoming more and more okay with that. (Is that proper English?) More okay. Hmm.

She doesn't push for the grandkids, either. I mean, what kind of family would we be bringing these babies into? A shitty one. My mom would be an awesome grandma, but I would love for her to just live her life and enjoy it without thinking about anyone else but herself. That's something that she had to stop doing at age 17 when she got knocked up with me. I feel so sad for my mom.

I feel sad for me, too, but more angry that I've wasted so much time daydreaming. Some women were made to breed, some women were made to serve, some women were made to make money, and other women were made for adventure. I like to think I know how to make money, but I end up spending it all on the adventures.

So, I'll google more pictures, color more fondant, and hope this cake comes out as fabulous as I can manage. There's some excited 2 year old that will be waiting to tear it up! I have this sick feeling inside me that something is going to catch this year and things will move faster than they ever have before. I know big things are coming, but I just don't know from which direction. I just want to make sure I'll be ready for it when it happens.


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  5. Hey, Josh. Don't get angry that I deleted your comments. You wrote a lot of personal things about yourself, and it would take a special kind of asshole to come here and start shit about it, but I'm a magnet for those types of assholes and I don't want anyone starting shit with you, especially about anything you shared.

    The beauty about friendship is that you don't have to thank me for any of that. It's what a real friend does without thinking twice or expecting anything in return. I'm glad I could be helpful during a painful time.

  6. I understand. Thanks for looking out for me, but I was only trying to look out for you, too. ;)