I should have worn water proof mascara . . .

I know I need to blog about New York, and I will do it soon, promise.

Sunday is Steph's birthday, so she's having a party tonight.  I was in charge of making the cake, which was a very bad idea. I let Megan choose what to make her, and she decided on Sponge Bob.  Not too difficult, or so I thought. 

Things didn't go well from the start. It was really hot in the kitchen, so the fondant was extra soft, and it was kinda melting.  His body was made of four cakes (cooked in bread pans) stacked on one another.  They slowly kept tilting backwards, making it extremely hard to get the fondant to stick to the back.  We moved everything to the basement where it was cooler, but it didn't help at all.  Nothing would stick to the cake, and he kept leaning backward even more.  It was super lumpy and not smooth at all. I was so frustrated! Nothing was making it look better, and then I ran out of white fondant, and we didn't have any more powdered sugar.  I went to the bathroom, and when I came back, the top three cakes had tipped over competely. I tried to tell myself to laugh at the situation, because really it was hilarious looking, but I couldn't. I started to bawl. Crying over a cake, pathetic, I know. So there I was, laying under a table in the basement crying over a cake, with my mom telling me I need to finish it, and Megan telling me everything was going to be fine. How sad is it when your eight-year-old sister is trying to get you to stop crying?

You know when you start crying and then you can't stop? Yeah, it's one of those lovely times.  Seriously, it's just a cake, but it's for Steph. Steph's cakes are always beautiful and awesome, and so I wanted hers to be awesome too.  Also, tons of people are coming over, and they'll all see the horrorendous cake that I made. It's just embarassing, really. I told my mom we weren't giving it to her, but she's making me. I sat there holding Bindi while she finished it. I haven't even seen the finished product, but there's no way to make it look decent.

So now people will be here any minute, and I'm sitting on my floor with no make up on, looking like crap, and I can't breathe out of my stuffy nose. In my defense, I think the cake was just the tipping point. I've been stressed out with what to do in the fall, and with something else, and I think the cake just pushed my emotions over the edge.  The doorbell just rang, awesome. I really don't even want to leave my room. I suppose I should try to make myself look presentable. Hopefully I can keep from crying again the rest of the nigh. Well shoot!