I texted Elise.
“Do you have any confetti?” Nope, the girl said. Why should we. Let me ask you this: Is there confetti in your house right now? Crap. I didn’t want to buy stuff solely for the Photo a Day Challenge. That feels like it should cost me my amateur status.
What’s confetti, except for chopped up paper?
One man’s dustbuster mess is another man’s confetti. So what about those confetti cupcakes? I could make some of those. A buck-10 later, I’m on my way. Only, I wasn’t. Because I pulled the cake too early. A boxed cake. I busted it open flipping it out of the pan.
That’s when I saw it was medium rare. Stellar for ground chuck; irresponsible for anything Pillsbury. Not a proud moment for a guy who flies into a new recipe like conditioner into Liam Hemsworth’s hair: There on a mission.
I made my own frosting which drew raver reviews than the actual cake. The cake wasn’t by the ocean, but it also wasn’t wretched; it just didn’t win any style points. I’ll take ugly cake over pretty broccoli 38 times out of 38.
They’ll rain no confetti on my head for this one.