It was Spencer's birthday on Sunday. Much to my disappointment, I only had $30 to spend and I wanted to do something equal to my birthday present from him. That's a little hard to do for a boy, though, since something that would produce an equal reaction is some expensive little electronic or something. So, I thought I would do something sexy. I've always wanted to jump out of a cake. So that was my plan. I looked into renting pop out cakes, but they were about double my stupid budget. So, I decided to make one. It seemed simple enough...score some big boxes for free from a furniture store, wrap them, stack them, and decorate like a cake. So, I enlisted the help of my father for finding me two big boxes for my tiered cake. Being the man that he is, he just brought me one big refrigerator box. Seeing as he was so nice to help me, I didn't fuss. "Whatev," I thought. "I'll jump out of a box instead of a cake." So, I bought all of my supplies from the dollar store and suddenly the day was upon me.
I banished Spencer to our bedroom while I wrapped the giant box upstairs in our loft and decorated it. Then I got all sexified and through the door said, "I'll call when I want you to come upstairs."
"Okay," he said.
So, I go upstairs where despite the fans being on all day, it's already really hot. I proceed to climb onto the piano bench. (I had to crouch down on the piano bench inside of the box in order to be tall enough to jump OUT of the box.) Now came the difficult part. I tried a few times to lift the box over my head, but it was too big to get my arms around and also really heavy. I opted to put my torso into it as far as possible, use my body to lift the box into a vertical position, and THEN climb onto the bench whilst inside the box. It worked. But it wasn't easy. Once in the box I realized I was facing the wrong way and had to shimmy myself around the other direction. Then I took a breather. It was freaking hot in there.
Finally, I was ready. I'd been listening to Moulin Rouge and I was ready for my performance. "Okay," I shouted, "Come upstairs!" Nothing. "Honey!" I yelled and stamped my foot a few times, "Come up!" Nothing. Finally, I resorted to screaming. After ten minutes, or two sessions of my VNS going off, I started yelling for Belle, thinking that she would help me out...being a dog and all. Nothing. After another ten minutes I was really getting sweaty. Sweat was dripping off of me onto the piano bench and I could feel my once-perfect hair getting matted to my face and my makeup running. I decided I had to escape. He wasn't coming. But how? I tried to lift the box, but since the bottom was unreachable, it was to no avail. I tried screaming again, then realized my only option was to tip myself over and hope that I'd oriented myself so I wouldn't fall over the railing or down the stairs. So, I put my shoulder into the side of my box and tip I did. It hit the wall and broke a frame and I slinked out of my now-battered box utterly defeated. I stomped down the stairs and opened the bedroom door with a "what-the-hell" look on my face. There he was, watching the baseball game. And there she was, on her back, head in one of his arms and enjoying a tummy scratch. Furry little traitor. "Why didn't you come upstairs?!" I said.
"I was waiting for you to call," he said, holding up his phone.
"I meant I'd call FOR you," I said, "Not on the phone!"
"Well do you want to run back up there?"
"It's ruined," I whimpered, thinking of my broken box. At this point I burst into tears.
"Honey..." he said going in for a hug.
"No, no, no," I recoiled, "I'm all sweaty! I'm completely drenched in stupid sweat." So I sat on the floor in my teddy and cried. "I hate this birthday!" I said, "I wanted it to be as good as mine and it sucks! Happy Birthday, my ass!"
"Your ass looks good," he said. "Why don't you show me what's upstairs."
"I broke it," I said.
"Show me anyway," he persuaded me.
He was thrilled by my idea. I decided to muster up enough confidence, (fake it till you make it?) to have him put me in the ruined box, go downstairs, and come back up acting suprised when I popped out. I ran downstairs to sponge off and re-apply deodorant and perfume and fix my hair and makeup.
"How the hell did you get in here by yourself?" he asked while putting me in the box.
"It was hard."
"How did you get out?" he asked.
"I had to tip myself over."
So, he went down and came back up. I popped out and did my routine and after, we laughed. He said that epic failures were just as good as epic successes in his book. And that is why I love him.
On a more successful note, this is the harmonica cake I made him:
The edges weren't as sharp as I would've liked, nor the color as gold, but more successful than the box. :)