I'm always the guy who gets roped into doing something I totally don't want to do. Somehow, people can smell that I'm a complete patsy and they dump shit on me that everyone else has weaseled out of. Constantly. Especially when it comes to the kids' schools.
Last year, I got corralled into making this mosaic table for Mr. Z's class' silent auction and that was a royal pain in my buttock. I had to go into the class, have each kid paint a picture on a tile, go get said tiles fired at the fucking kiln place, then find a goddamn table, buy a shitload of little tiles and some grout, put the whole fucking thing together, go to the auction and then watch as NO ONE placed a goddamn bid on the thing. (And it looked pretty sweet, mind you.) I mean, I did learn how to do mosaics and all... but that's beside the point! I was corralled, dammit!
Well, it happened again. The Room Mother in Mr. Z's class (and that's a whole 'nother post right there... fucking room mothers) called last week and asked if we could "help out" with the end of the year party. I figured, she probably wants me to throw a little cash her way, right? Wants me to buy some streamers, maybe some ding-dongs or some zebra cakes. "No problem, room lady, I'm in." So she says:
ROOM LADY: Great! The party is a Hawaiian theme, so it would be great if you could make a pineapple upside-down cake.
Pineapple upside-down cake?! I didn't even realize those were real -- I thought it was something Ralph and Norton would take to one of their meetings at the Racoon Lodge on "The Honeymooners" or something. What the shit?! Corralled, once again!!
But I'm a man of my word, so I decided to make the fucking cake. I found a recipe (again, in my incredible "Baking Illustrated" cookbook), got the ingreediments together, and actually started to get fired up. Of course, it called for some odd-sized cake pan that I didn't have, so I dragged Miss O around with me to find one. Kroger? Nope. Target? Nope. Marshall Fields? Nope. Bed, Bath & Beyond? Nope, Nope & Nope. Finally, as Miss O was about to either die of exhaustion or murder me, we found one that was close at fucking Younkers, of all places. Younkers?! Do people even go there?!
Anywhom, got back home, whisked shit, blended shit, whipped shit, sliced shit and baked shit until I came up with this:
Pretty snazzy, huh? And I even used the mosaic skills I learned last year to cement the pineapple in there. It looked a little barren, so I cut up that green construction paper to make a nice little grassy hula skirt thing around it. Sure, I haven't tasted it -- it may well taste like Pine-ASS-le POOPside-Down FAKE, but it looks fucking awesome, doesn't it? I'll just drop it off at the party and then bolt before anyone attempts to choke it down.
No one's going to fucking eat it, anyway. Just like that table that no one bid on. Bastards.