So George's birthday was last week. My parents had us over Friday for a home-cooked meal, a different take on birthday cake, carb-free ice cream, & gifts for my hubby. The stuffed pork chops were excellent, as was the Boston cream pie that mom picked up in lieu of a birthday cake, as a nod to George's home town. Mom told of how she had to literally fight with the bakery clerk at Publix to have 'Happy Birthday George' written on the pie, because Bakery Psycho was working today. Here is how what should have been the simple process of having words written on a cake went terribly awry:

Bakery Psycho: "That's NOT the kind of cake you write on, lady!"

Gracie's Mom: "Sure it is."

Bakery Psycho: "But...it's a PIE!"

Gracie's Mom: "So?"

Bakery Psycho: "You don't WRITE on PIES, lady."

Gracie's Mom: "Why not?"

Bakery Psycho: "Because you just don't."

Gracie's Mom: "Well that's what I want, so would you please just do it?"

Bakery Psycho: *sighs heavily* "It's a PIE, it won't look right."

Gracie's Mom: "Trust me. It'll be fine. Can you just do it please? "

Bakery Psycho: "But...but it has this PLASTIC thing around the edges! We won't be able to do the confetti!!"

Gracie's Mom: "Then don't do the confetti. Jesus. Just write 'Happy Birthday George' and we'll be done."

Bakery Psycho: *Sighs even heavier than before* "FINE!!"

10 minutes later my mother had her requested Boston cream pie with 'Happy Birthday George' written on it, and the woman's rage was quite evident in her work. She made a mess of it by doing the confetti anyway, all over the plastic. The text was even worse. It was all jagged and frightening. It was hideous looking. An Angry Arteeest working at Publix, gettin' no respect for her CRAFT. What a riot.

The best part (or worst, depending on your take) of the evening was when George opened the card from my parents, and it was a bit risqué. It was very funny, but not the type of card you'd buy at a grocery store, or even Hallmark. No, no. THIS card was bought 'elsewhere'. It was bought at a dirty shop called Inserection. Note the name of this store, as will be important in a moment.

Here is how the conversation went as the card was opened:

Gracie's Mom: "Guess where we got it?"

Gracie: *regrettably* "Where?"

Gracie's Mom: "That dirty store on Roswell road."

Gracie: *Unable to speak due to image of parents in dirty store on Roswell road'*

Gracie's Mom: "Yep, we went to INSURGENCE!"

Gracie: *rolls laughing* "You mean Inserection?"

Gracie's Mom: "Yeah, whatever. That store."

Gracie: "Oh. My. God. I cannot believe my parents went to a porn store. A porn store apparently called 'Insurgence.'

George: "Insurgence. It seems an awfully appropriate name for a porn shop, don't you think?"

Gracie: "I'm so impressed! And, a little disturbed, I gotta tell ya. Dad, I cannot beLIEVE you talked her into this!"

Gracie's Dad: "Oh no, missy, it wasn't me. Your mother forced me to go!"

Gracie: "No. Uh-uh."

Gracie's Dad: "Oh yes. I didn't want go, but she made me."

Gracie: "And did you have fun?"

Gracie's Dad: "I don't think so. There were pierced people in there. VERY pierced people. There was one guy that worked there and he's apparently a bull. He had a ring through his nose that was HUGE. WHY would you need this?"

Gracie: "I haven't the slightest idea, dad."

Gracie's Dad: "I can only IMAGINE what else he had pierced."

*Collective shudder runs through the room*

Gracie's Dad: "The worst was the old lady

Gracie's Mom: "Ohhh, she was, like, a hundred years old!"

Gracie: "Gross!"

Gracie's Mom: "I know! And she was buying a fist!"

Gracie: "WHAT?"

Gracie's Mom: "Yep, a big old fist."

Gracie: "Oh god. Make it stop."

Gracie's Mom: "Did you know that they had muffin tins? They do! Of penises and breasts! How great is THAT?"

*parents discuss going back and buying them, making Atkins-friendly muffins, and inviting some friends over to see how long it would take them to notice*

Gracie: "You guys are sick."

Gracie's Mom: "Hey, I am not the one who was checking out the Travel Pussies."

Gracie's Head: *Travel pussy. My mom just said travel pussy. Oohhh I'm going to need a LOT of therapy*

Gracie's Mom: "They also had Travel Asses. A Travel. Ass. I just cannot imagine an instance where I would need a travel ass."

Please send donations for therapy to Gracie's paypal account.

Someone Arrived Here Searching For: little brother needs pee [Is there actually a fund for this?]

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