My Weekend Part II: Fun With Ellen and Kate

Since somebody's getting a little demanding, I suppose it is time to post Part II.

(I guess that boring pictures of a crummy old lighthouse, a dozen pictures of moldy rocks and a stupid tanker does not suit everyone!)

So anyways, here is Part II: Fun with Ellen and Kate.

It started out with my mother, who was making the food for this little shindig. She, of course, had to amuse herself by saying, "what you mean you don't eat no meat? That's okay, I make lamb."

Ellen likes lamb. However, lamb and all of its other varieties (mutton, haggis, entrails) is just about the #1 most disgusting thing on earth. It just smells revolting and the idea of eating something that is 90% babyfat just makes me want to hurk. I found a kindred soul in Kate who thinks that spreading mint jelly on it just raises it to a level of foulness that is beyond humane. Thus, the three carnivores in my family ate the roasted ick while Kate noshed on a sandwich and I had a bagel. Mum didn't butcher the asparagus too badly so we all had vegetables, at least.

Then we had cake. Mmmmmmmmmm cake.


Ellen had wanted a "white cake with real frosting" (not that pseudo-whipped cream crap) and so this is what Mum got. It was (I swear to God) a foot across and nine inches tall.

Cutting a slice from it was like battling the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man with a rapier. We each got a slice the size of Wyoming and then Dad piled six tons of ice cream on top.

After we ate, and after Mum and Dad had drifted into the living room, we proceeded to set our leftovers on fire.



There is something very Neanderthalish about the glassy-eyed expressions people get when they play with matches.



Kate's cake was like a little bonfire, Ellen's was rather classy with the three-tiered effect going on, and mine was pathetic.



My favorite comment was when I said, "This is how--" and I was going to finish with "--you'll always remember your 25th birthday," but Kate interrupted, "--house fires start?"


This shot of Kate adding a sprinkle of freshly-ground black pepper to hers is quite charming.


And, for our grand finale, I present to you, Popcorn Avec Frosting Brûlé en Flambé*.

*Whatever that means.