the swamp cupcake debacle, pt. 2

So, I'm sure you're all just dying to know what happened at the dinner party. (If you're a new reader, welcome! My previous post explains it all.) Did he eat the cupcakes? Did he run away screaming in horror like a guinea pig? (Little girls have nothing on guinea pigs, trust me.) Did he look at my blue mascara, drop down on one knee and say, "Zia, you are so gorgeous, I realise I'm in love with you..."? (This is what I was keeping my fingers crossed for...)

Answer: none of the above.

I should have remembered, though- teenage boys eat ANYTHING. (There's a guy at my school who ate a sandwich that was starting to go blue and had been sitting under construction boots for two months. There's another one who has used the same spoon the entire school year, just leaving it in his locker so he doesn't forget it. It is now brown and crusty. How exactly are they the same species as me?) There were a few initial dubious looks, but I teased and smiled at him until he took a little bite... I think he ended up eating four.

Mission accomplished. (Insert smile here.)

However, this was not helped by my mother commenting loudly, several times, on how odd the cupcakes looked or by his father asking me exactly how much seaweed I'd put in. (Gotta love parents.)

No, the worst part was my shyness. You've read a few posts; you know I'm a little... quirky. I can deal with that. However, when I'm nervous, I'm just plain weird. I start talking, and one part of me remains completely horrified by the things that are coming out of my mouth.

Example: I started talking about TOMATOES, and how no one eats them like apples and wasn't that a shame? I bet they'd be delicious. Or maybe oranges, you can do that too right? But there'd be all that white peel... hmm, so maybe not as good. I don't know. But I do know I don't like looking at avocado because it's so mushy. It's like MONSTER SLIME THAT'S GOING TO EAT YOU! WATCH OUT.

...Yeah. Direct transcript. (This, dearest readers, is why I have no romance in my life.)

it's a swamp monster! no, wait, it's... cupcakes?

Everyone knows that the surest way to a boy's heart is through his stomach. (No one ever says through his chest, oddly enough. Hahaha, see what I did there? Yes, I do laugh at my own jokes.) So what do you do when a cute boy is coming over for supper? You bake cupcakes. (At least  I do.) Not that, unfortunately, cute boys come over for supper all that often... or ever. Which makes this all the more important.

Now, my mother is a little bit of a health food nut. That means it is extraordinarily difficult to find such ordinary substances as sugar in the house at any given time. (Agave syrup, however, we have plenty of. Go figure.) It took me about fifteen minutes of rooting around in the cupboard before I finally found some brown sugar.

Now, the recipe called for white. In my infinite wisdom, I thought- oh, what difference will it make? They're both sugars, right? So I used the brown sugar. (It was either that or the aforementioned agave, which is thick and sticky, a little like watered-down honey. I tried making cupcakes with it once, but they turned into something more akin to a mud puddle instead.) This made a light brown batter. However, the cupcakes I'd decided to make were lime-coconut, so I decided to colour them green.

Not my best move.

The combination of brown sugar and green food colouring turned the cupcakes an unappetising (read: disgusting) swampy colour. I added more and more colouring in an effort to make them prettier but it just made them swampier. (Think Shrek.) In an instant, my hopes of impressing the aforementioned cute boy went down the drain where that colour belongs. (FYI, this isn't a date. He's the son of one of my parents' friends. So, not only will he be grossed out by the cupcakes, I can't just avoid him for the rest of my life.)

All this was before I'd even added the coconut. Hoping that it would somewhat dilute the swampiness, I put in a cupful... and recoiled in horror. They'd turned lumpy.

What's worse than swampy cupcakes? Cupcakes that are both swampy and lumpy. Yum, right? Even making some mini ones (and really, what's cuter than mini cupcakes?) couldn't negate the atrocity.

Here are a couple of photos, just so you know I'm not exaggerating (for once!): 

 The implements of destruction...

Before cooking...

And after...

Oh well, here's hoping that he's completely colour-blind.

Has this ever happened to anyone else? Does anyone have any suggestions on how to pull this off gracefully? (I'm planning on wearing my blue mascara and hoping he'll be so distracted by the beauty of my eyes that he won't even notice. Although if he really is colour-blind, he won't notice... hmm, dilemma.)

the alternate use of nail polish remover

I love nail polish. (And HATE long nails. They should belong solely to cats- or crazy cat ladies.) I love trying out different colours and effects- the brighter, the better! (Right now I'm wearing neon orange. Does it clash horribly with all my clothes? Yes, but at least it's noticeable!) However, there are definitely some inconveniences. It doesn't really wash well- there's a lovely bright pink stain on my kilt to prove that. It smells absolutely toxic (although I've heard that some people actually eat it? What's up with that?) and it takes FOREVER to take off. (Also, some colours stain. Blue= corpse hands= very creepy.)

After my 'vampire' attack last week, I decided to apply a nice, bright red. (After all, accessorising is everything!) BAD IDEA. It was extraordinarily difficult to distinguish the blood from the nail polish on my hands. (Out, out, damned spot! Maybe if nail polish remover had been around then, Lady Macbeth never would have killed herself. Hm...) I think I confused them in every single location. My gouges and teeth marks were left burning (although blindingly clean, I'm sure!) but I'm still covered in nail polish. (Yes, I do mean covered. I later discovered some on my ear and on my knee, and I have no idea how it got there.)

Life lesson of the day: nail polish remover (like stationary bikes!) can be a dangerous weapon.

I have a third eye

I've read in some psychic books that this is a good thing- that you're able to see mystical visions- but somehow I think they might be referring to something else. (It's been a while...) In my case, it's enormous, and red, and I keep getting the feeling that, at any moment, it's going to sprout legs and start crawling all over my face. (Please, no.)

GAHHH. Definitely not my best look.

six word memoirs

So I've been seeing this around recently... plus doing it for a class project... and I thought it was pretty cool- six word memoirs! Here are a couple of mine:

irrelevant? me? what about purple platypi?

searching for love... happiness... nice hair.

cannot wait to escape this town.

dreaming of fairytales... living in highschool.

song sung blue- everybody needs one!

As you see, there's a lot of variety. Has anyone else tried these?

the case of the stolen iPod

It's a well-known fact that listening to music makes every job less tedious. (Except for shovelling manure. I don't think anything can make that better. Also, scrubbing mold.) Our art teacher has recently been complaining that our class has been complaining (yeah, I know. You'd think he should be the mature one and use a better strategy, such as threatening to beat us up, but no... I tried pointing this out, but was disregarded. Again, very mature) too much about the work we have to do. In order to render it more exciting and prove that I was a Mature, Initiative-filled Student (they're big on that) I decided to listen to my iPod. (FYI, we're painting. Fun, right? Not when it's a gigantic mural of an amoeba. Which happens to be our school mascot. Basically... don't ask.)

How was I supposed to know that we aren't allowed electronic devices? It's not like I actually read the code of conduct. (It's fifty pages long. I don't think anyone reads it... actually, never mind, I can think of a couple of students who have nothing else to do...) When my teacher saw it, he pitched a hissy fit and started yelling at me. I wasn't expecting it, and I jumped- forgetting of course about the can of paint in my other hand. Aquamarine blue sprayed across me, the mural, and three other students- who were of course the three most hair-obsessed girls in the class.

I think you can imagine the scene that followed- sheer pandemonium. (My ears are still ringing from the shrieks.)

So now I have no iPod (my teacher confiscated it... apparently my idea wasn't as good as I'd thought), my one uniform shirt (my cat stole the rest and I have yet to find them) is covered in bright blue paint, and I have three new enemies to watch out for. (You'd be surprised how vicious girls can get when they think their hair has been ruined. You'd think they'd just take it as an opportunity for free streaks!) On the plus side, yellow (my shirt colour) and blue are the school colours- so at least I'm being patriotic! (Is that the right word, or is that only when you're supporting a country? I never know...)

it was a dark and stormy night...

Vampires don't exist, right? Everyone knows that. (Actually, that's not true. I dare you to tell that to a rabid Twilight fan and see their reaction. Might I also suggest you bring a stake and some holy water?) They're a fantasy for some people and a horror for others. (Or both, if you like that kind of thing.) Nowhere, however, do they cross into this humdrum place known as 'the real world'.

Except... what if they do?

The other day, I was walking in the woods by myself, trying not to trip over too many tree stumps and dead leaves and basically minding my own business. (Amazingly, I only fell over twice! And got mud on only three spots, none of them excessively awkward! Yes, that was a great victory indeed.) Suddenly, a dark (and menacing. Very menacing indeed) shape leaped out of the shadows (did I mention it was dusk? The tension mounts), pushed me to the ground and bit savagely down on my hand! Ever since that day, I've had to endure turtlenecks (after some very awkward questions about hickeys) and an odd sensitivity to the sun (thankfully I have some gorgeous sunglasses, allowing me to rock the Audrey Hepburn look). Could it be that I'm transforming into a creature of the night?

...KIDDING!

What tipped you off? The fact that it bit my hand? The fact that I seem so blasé? Or did you know I was joking all along?

Whatever it was, I will now confess the truth. (Which is, unfortunately, far more prosaic. My life could use a few vampires.) I was walking in the woods. I was bitten on the hand. However, it didn't exactly leap out of the bushes. More like... I coaxed it. And petted it for a few minutes first.

Yes. I was bitten by a cat. (In my defence, it hurt!) It was all friendly then, suddenly, it decided that it would rather taste my blood than be petted, and latched onto my arm like a limpet. Despite much shaking and prodding, it refused to get off until, in desperation, I knocked it gently against a tree. (So maybe 'knocked' and 'gently' don't really go together. Whatever.) It finally let go, gave me an insulted look (yes, because this was all my fault) and stalked away, leaving me with blood pouring down my arm. (At least it hasn't inhibited my ability to type too much! Although, come to think of it, my keyboard is looking a little horror-movie-ish...) I suppose I should just be grateful it wasn't a mutant squirrel- I've heard they can sometimes stay attached for weeks.

What about you, dearest readers? Any animal horror stories to share? (Or maybe some tips on avoiding these situations? Although the obvious one, just don't pet stray cats, will probably be ignored.)