about a square peg in a round hole

Today, I went bananas. Literally. Well, maybe not quite so literally. I learnt how to make bananas out of marzipan. That was the high point of my day at work.

A few days ago, I had this short conversation with Erica about how sometimes when people (read: me) try to do special things for her, she always manages to make things go to shit. Her conclusion (which I concur) is that I try too hard and that I should know better – I don’t need to go out of my way, break my back and a leg plus my cranium to show her a good time.

It’s her birthday today. And for the past 3 hours (whilst I was patiently moulding and painting bananas) I have been scheming how to wish her happy 21st.

First I stole some desserts and garnishes from the hotel. Then I made sure I got back by half eleven so I can make her a birthday cake. Well, not exactly a cake, but a chocolate banana fondant (which is bloody heavenly). Got home on time, and went straight to the kitchen. Made a piping bag out of baking paper, melted some chocolate and wrote “Happy Birthday, Kid” on a plate with milk chocolate buttons arranged to say 21.

That’s when the shit hit the microwave. I burnt some of the chocolate, my piping bag was wonky, my hands were trembly and my cigarette was of no help whatsoever. But still I soldiered on. Plate ready, garnished and decorated, I patiently waited the full 14 minutes for the fondant to bake in the oven. Then more shit. The fucking fondant died on me. It literally went *plooop* and turned into a right mess. It actually LOOKED like shit. But still I persevered, feeling now mightly incompetant.

Upwards I went into my room – she’s asleep, no doubt because she’s not feeling very celebratory at all (Oh god. Why can’t I ever take a fucking hint.) I woke her up gently and wished her Happy Birthday – she smiled a half smile, eyes sleepy and aura grumpy.

Oh well. At least she had half a teaspoon full of my fucked up fondant. Doubt she even looked at the plate properly.

I told her I wanted to take her out to dinner and catch a movie – but she’s all negative about the whole idea. Cold water slapped right smack on my face. I try not to show my dissapointment, consciously battling the uncomfortable feelings stirring in my being.

Sigh.

Happy Birthday, Kid – from your dear Hah Big.