Monday, June 25, 2012


Lots and lots of  cakes, and on top of all that, my buddies from Cali crashed in NY for two nights when they got bumped off their flight to Spain.

I haven't seen this group in many years. I've hung out with their sister a few times whenever she comes into the city, but I have not seen this bunch since I was still with my husband. Their little boy, whom I remember at the age of 6, just graduated high school and is now an 18 year old. He drives a BMW.

It took a little bit of work to move my schedule around. I had cake orders every single day this week, and two on Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Still, I made sure they had something to eat, got into Manhattan okay, found their hotel, and had everything they needed to be comfortable.

Technically, last Friday was supposed to be my day off, but because I've been late every single day this month, I had to come in to make up some hours. I also had to make a cake that night when I got home at 2am. I did it. I went to work. I snuck out of work. Met up with them again and took them all over town. I had to keep the entertainment PG-13 because of the kids, but overall it was a fun time.

At the end of the trip their 18 year old was practically hanging off me, and their 5 year old little girl was my new best friend. I always worry that I don't have the right temperature for little kids. I mean, I'm not over-the-top playful and I tend to speak to them as if they are mature adults rather than little humans with a whole lot of life left to learn. But, given enough time, they warm up to me so well that their parents are pretty much prying them off me. I guess, I'm still a functioning female afterall with that procreation gene firmly intact!  Who knew?

By the time I was dropping them off at JFK Saturday morning, they were begging me again to come with them to Spain, and then the Canary Islands. They insisted the ticket was covered (through family connections) and the timeshare was secure, except for Spain, where they have property already. All I would need to pay for is my own food and entertainment.

I did consider it. Day job be damned, I kept telling myself! I have my passport. I have a small bag. I have it all. Why don't I just go. Fuck this place!

But, that would mean fucking over the one-year-old's Abby Caddabby cake for Saturday afternoon, and my friend's birthday cupcakes for Saturday night, the 60th wedding anniversary cupcake tower on Sunday morning, and the Hunger Games mini banana bread for my friend's other bookclub meeting for Sunday night. It's not the money I would be losing out on. It's the people I would let down, and the fact that I would be ruining my reputation by fucking them over for my own selfishness.

I couldn't do it. I WANTED to do it, but I don't think I could really live with myself if I did that to someone, let alone all these people who expected me to come through.

It made me rethink a lot of things. Why haven't I opened up my own place here in NY? It's not about the money or the responsibility. I have many investors willing to front me the cash. It's the tether. It would be the embodiment of a physical ball and chain tied to my ankle, keeping me trapped here for God-knows how long!

My friends hounded me again about moving out West, with them. They promised free living. They promised help with my business and introducing me to the right connections in order to get it off the ground FAST and successfully. They also insisted I meet a handful of men they know who are all financially capable of "taking care" of me.

I don't want to be taken cared of. I'm capable, dammit.

I had to read the whole Fifty Shades trilogy this past week to get ready for my book club meeting next week. Even with the promise about a book with kinky fuckery, this series was God-awful. Bad writing. Bad characters. Clichéd scenarios and situations. (What do you expect from a book based on Twilight fan fiction?)

I was always really proud of my last long-term relationship when it came to our bed-play. (We may have been an awful couple and terrible friends, but we were great fuckers.) Without crossing the line into a fetish lifestyle, we were both sexually charged beings with kinks that toed the fringe of dangerous and rough. The things we said to each other, the looks we shared, the knowing-smiles that touched our lips while out in public which hinted at being in on a secret that the rest of the sheeple population would never understand; it made me feel like we shared this special, unique bond that all the porn in the world couldn't trump.

Well, Fifty Shades just took my little sexual trophy from that relationship and knocked it off its pedestal. Not only did I recognize annoying traits in the lead woman that I often exhibited, myself, but the entire way their kinky fuckery went down pushed my special sexual bond with my ex into that glaring shelf in the library called "Clichéd Lust". Fifty Shades of Grey along with its two subsequent follow-ups was written by a woman with a 13 year-old's talent for writing fantasy- what she thinks sex and love should be. An interesting idea; but poorly executed and annoyingly simple......Just like my kinky-fuckery-relationship. How could I have been so disillusioned to think I had something special with someone, when all along it was just another fuck-fest with me as the co-star instead of some other chick? It's like the kid's roles in the Griswald Family movies- every movie has a new set of actors playing the kids, but that's okay because no one is watching to really see the kids anyway. It's the franchise- the genre.

After putting down the last book of this trilogy, I had to sit down and really reassess what I'm working with here. I don't want to be another dumb cliché of what I think  I want to be. I thought I was some awesome sexual goddess in the bedroom because of the extremes that I enjoyed and my ability to find suitable bed partners to enjoy them with. But, really, if some idiot in Europe can write a book like Fifty Shades and have millions and millions of stupid housewives mewling over this trite garbage, then I suppose I'm not such a sexual goddess afterall.

The realization was staggeringly disappointing. I feel like my favorite superhero just took off his mask and shattered the illusion of grandeur I had of him. I feel like someone walked over to my jewelry box, picked up my most prized gemstone and smashed it in front of me to prove it was only glass and not some rare, precious jewel that I always thought it was.

It made me question everything I thought about myself and my life. It made me wonder if I really want to do this cake thing forever. And if I do, how am I going to go see the world like I've always wanted? I could be writing this post from the mother fucking Canary Islands right now, for fuck's sake! I could be in a bathing suit, sipping a tropical juice, and looking out over the water from my balcony. Well, it would be a whole other post, then, wouldn't it?

I think I've been planning my goals using a clichéd idea of what life should be as a measuring stick.

I don't do clichés very well. it all starts off well enough, until the role gets boring and I need to break out into something a-typical.

I was a typical domineering wife while I was married to that loser.
I was a typical "timid" housewife-like female when I was with Joel in order to make him feel like he wore the man-pants in our partnership.
I was a typical trainwreck in the relationship after Joel, because it felt like that's the light I was pictured in to the people involved in that catastrophe.

When do I stop being what people want me to be, and just be me? But, then again, what the fuck is "me" exactly? A little bit of all those things, right? Dominant, persistent control freak with a soft creamy center of submissive "take care of me" female wiles on the inside, covered by a lusty candy shell of sexual deviant. All packaged in a shiny wrapper of a lost survivor struggling to succeed.

Is that an accurate description of what you get if you pick me up off the shelf and stash me in your pocket?

I loved seeing my friends again. They had a great time with me. I'm proud that I carried through with my commitments and didn't bail on my customers all for a free vacation on the other side of the world. But, after it's all said and done- I'm unhappy and I can't point to one thing right now that I can change in order to make myself happy. Which means, all the goals and the "I want to..." is probably not going to make me happy, either.

Someone once told me that if I don't know what I'm looking for, go exploring because sometimes you end up stumbling on something you never knew you'd ever want.

I think I need to go exploring.


  1. hallelujah...praise the lord!!!!!!!!!!

    Don't get overly dramatic about it. Most people idealize their past trysts. I think we do it so the harrowing sting of failure isn't so bad when we look back on disasters like that. It's the same thing when we say- everything happens for a reason. You know what that reason is? Shit. Sometimes life is just shit. Period. Nothing more. You don't need a reason for something to be shitty. It just is.

    Whatever happened to that sex site you were writing for? I thought you had a deal going with them for you to microblog that last relationship you had. They really liked your idea right? Or that other thing you mentioned about replying to kink posts giving a tongue in cheek response to people seeking sexual how to's. I think you'd do really well at it, and it would give you a positive outlet for all these questions in your head about your own sexuality.......and dare I say- frustration? ;-)

    I think you can still pursue a culinary career and see the world. You don't have to choose one over the other, but owning your own business will limit your flexibility. I've said it before and I'll say it again- if you want the freedom and the time to do many things, you need to concede a little bit of control. Take on a partner. A BUSINESS partner, not the other kind. If you have someone you can rely on, then you won't feel compelled to always babysit your business and you can go where you want when you want (within reason).

    I'm just going to come right out and ask WHY everyone here is ignoring the fucking gorilla sitting the in the corner of the room? It's like carrying on a conversation with someone who has a huge booger sticking out the side of their nose. You're not gonna say something? Are you just gonna let the booger hang there, as if it's not? WTF???

    1. Are you trying to say I have snot hanging out of the side of my nose? I know what you're talking about, and you know the deal. If someone has something to say, then they need to come right out and just say it. At 33 years old, you'd think some of us would grow up and stop playing around. Don't get me wrong, I like to play, but this weird, cyber-bullshit passive-aggressive nonsense just isn't my thing. You and I have already talked about it, and you know how I feel. So, that's all I have to say about that.

      I think I need to find a way to be independently wealthy so I can cook and bake at my leisure, and still travel and do as I like when I like. If you can find the pill that lets me do that, I'll relax my stance on drugs. ;-)

      I told you what happened. I sent them a rough draft of my first post, and they wanted it watered down in some places and then exaggerated in others. They thought I was writing too formally and wanted me to tone it down to a more casual level. I rewrote it three times, and then I had enough. I told them I probably am not the right person for what they want. It was amicable, and they still send me emails when they read something on my other blog that seems enticing enough. I know I'm not a great writer, and I'm more than open to corrections and suggestions, but changing the whole tone of my article to the point where I don't even recognize it anymore doesn't make it mine, and that's where I didn't want to continue. I had a really long discussion about this with you, didn't I?

      I'm not getting overly dramatic. I'm just trying to describe the horror I felt when I was reading this book. It was so bad...the dialogue, the narration, the grammatical errors, and the plot. I really hated it- right at the first chapter. And I kept reading and when I got to the part of them finally hooking up- I was completely shocked to recognize so many similarities to the things they said to one another, the way she reacted, the things she did....It was eye-opening and disturbing. For example, I always knew my jealous nature was a bone of contention with everyone I've dated. Granted, it's calmed down over the years, but to read someone else behaving that way when the guy is doing everything in his power to correct the situation, and she's getting unjustifiably angry at the things that are out of his control..I saw so many flashes of my different relationships and the various battles I had with some of the exes about the same thing. And to watch this girl who is "supposed" to be intelligent and "different" break down and act just as insecure and immature as I had in the past-- it made my stomach turn and I got queasy. You know how I am always affected by music when the lyrics feel like the words were taken out of my own blogs or my own heart? Well, it was like that. The same phrases I used to say (vanilla sex), the stupid things I used to do (high-handed monetary independence), and then the super-kinky scenes....suddenly I didn't feel so unique or special anymore. All I've been doing is living my life the way some child would envision her fantasy life would be when she grew up and the realization of that is sobering. I don't know if I'm articulating myself or if I'm coming across clearly. Let me know if I sound like I'm babbling.

    2. I'm gonna break it all down for you and sum it up in ONE severely dramatic sentence that can only be described as a Katherine-ism.

      "Instead of this book taking me from my reality into a torrid fantasy, as its done for every other human vagina since it came out; it took my torrid realty and reduced it into some cheap cliche fantasy."

      Cue the dramatic stylings of Bach or Mozart or Chopin as background mood music.

      ;-) I get what you're saying, and again I say that we ALL idealize our old trysts. It makes them bareable in our mental file cabinets. You just happen to enjoy rifling through your file cabinets more than the average joe. leave them be.

      I say give the microblog another go to see if it can work this time. It'll give you a creative outlet for your stuff. I just think you'd be really good at it.

      Regarding the gorilla---Um, ok. I disagree, but it's your space.

      Spain huh? Where is the canary islands exactly?

  2. Don't cry because its over.....

    ....... Smile because it'll probably happen again and again and again..... know I jest right? Couldn't help myself, its too easy!

    1. BAHAHAHA!!

      Kat: Living the dream, nah, just perpetuating the cliche.

    2. She's so cutting edge; cliches want to grow up to be her!

    3. You're unique....
      ...just like everyone else.

    4. Oh, you thought you were the only one into kinky bondage sex greased in with rich white guy romance...that's so sweet...

    5. "I'm gonna buy that bitch a ball-gag....bitches love ball gags."

    6. You assholes are so incredibly mean...and funny.

      I'll give you bastards that one. These had me cracking up.

    7. "I've spent all day biting my lower lip in hopes that a brooding, handsome billionaire would take notice."

      (I got that off a meme. I didn't know Mike was gonna turn this into a pissing contest!)

    8. Not a pissing contest buddy, just a piss off kat tag team match up...because it's fun popping her drama balloon when she's getting all wound up over it....

      As much as i'd love to go back and forth about this all night, I'm spent....Kat maybe you can do a real book review on this book. Just curious about the hype.

      laters, baby

    9. Mike, kill a few brain cells and just read the books. They're incredibly simple and they go fast. If you want to pick up women- go out in public and read the book. I know, I lose some man points on this, but if you really want to know how women think- read this book. It doesn't make sense, it's drenched in unrealistic expectations of what women think men should be- rich, suave, sensitive, fashion-forward, dominant...basically this poor bastard was a fucking schizophrenic because he turned into whatever the writer felt like making him at the time she was writing.

      If this is the twisted fucked up way women want men to be....I'm going to die alone!!!!!!

    10. I don't want to make my private blog public, and I don't know if I can convince my Robot P0rn co-writer to read the books so we can review them on that site. I'll see. Either way, I'd have to make it less personal and more focused on the horrendous writing.

      I can't believe you read them, Josh. I don't know whether to hug you in comfort after stomaching such a catastrophe, or pointing at you and laughing for stomaching such a catastrophe. Kudos, nonetheless.

      Not ALL women expect men to be like this. Maybe we fantasize men being somewhat like this, but reality takes over and we realize that the streets aren't paved in gold and clouds aren't made of cotton candy. This new Twilight generation have severely blurred the solid lines between fantasy and reality. It's like watching amateur porn vs. hardcore porn. I'm not a fan of the homemade videos, the less-than-perfect bodies, or the shoddy camera work. I'm also not a fan of the soft-core crap you find on late night cable. I like my porn gritty, extreme, and graphic--with beautiful people and professional camera work and editing. That's how I like my erotica, too. This book fails on every level. But, getting back to my original point- not all women expect men to be this way.

      And we're ALL gonna die alone. We were born alone, and we'll die alone. The only difference is that some people will have a bigger audience than others.

  3. Hey, I hope you didn't take offense. We were only kidding around. You can take it right? let me ask you something, I've read the books. I'll admit it. You'd be surprised how many women will start a conversation on the train or the bus with a dude reading this garbage. I pretty much agree with your description of the book. It's like every female teenage dream got balled up and stuffed into these books.

    I also see the similarities that you're taking such exception to- the sex, the dominance, her submission, and her whiny, immature narration. The only thing that surprises me, though, is that it's hitting you so hard. It's been a while since you've dealt with any of your past lovers, so reading something like this shouldn't really matter right? They're all living in the world somewhere doing their thing and you're doing yours. So...who cares about a badly written book?....right?.....or does this have more to do with that thing that happened that Mike is referring to.....the thing you don't want us to mention.....Gorilla-gate?

  4. I'm purposefully ignoring both your sign-offs. We will not feed into the frenzy on this forum!!

    1. I'm sorry to keep going back to this, but you kinda skated around my question. Why does this book bother you so much? Do you relate to the girl in there? because she's nothing at all like you AT ALL. All women sorta have common traits with each other especially when you go through similar situations, but you and this idiot in the book are completely different personalities. The writer makes her pretend to be indignant when money bags buys her gifts, but she's squealing like a pig in delight five minutes later anyway. You ACtUALLY believe like you need to pay people back for gifts they give you. (which isn't healthy either) but you're actually genuine in your discomfort with other people's money. And this girl is just simple.

      Don't mean to harp on it I'm just curious why it has you so upset.

    2. No, not at all. I don't think I have anything in common with that insipid woman. I think that the avenue that the author took to map out the story caught me off guard because, I guess, to me, I always thought it was an exclusive road that not many people knew about. To read others walking on through without so much as an understanding of the ground they're stepping on kind of kills me.

      I think Mike nailed it right on the head- "You're special...just like everyone else."

      I think the bottom line is that my awesome sexcapades and romantic history is not as unique or as endearing as I thought it was.

      That's all. I'm over it. Gorrilla-gate has no impact on my opinion of the book, either way.