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I usually love her stuff but somehow all I can do with that one is feel for her mother. This is probably because I too am the parent of a wonderful if occasionally rather trying (see tactful understatement!) ADHD kid and oh lord, when they fixate they fixate.
Between this H&AH post and the one about the birthday party, I really feel terrible for Allie Brosh's mom. I hope that when she gets really famous she buys her mom a house or something.
I'm still that way about cake. I like cake. A LOT. You know how a TV screen is magnetic for some people? If they're in a room where a TV is on, their eye will go to over and over again, even if whatever's being broadcast is dull?
I'm like that with cake. If there's a cake in the room, I'm looking at it. If we're watching a film and a cake appears in the background, I'm looking at it. If someone walks down the street with a box that looks like it contains a cake, my eye follows them.
It doesn't even have to be good cake. Last night, The Fella surprised me by bringing home Hostess cupcakes, the kind that come in a two-pack. I opened it up and reached over so he could take one... and he looked both confused and suspicious at the offer. That says a lot about my relationship with cake.
I insisted he take one, and I told him "Cake is for sharing." That's not the hardest sentence I've ever said, but it's up there.
The only reason Earth is still spinning is because we have cake in the house. You really don't want to know what would have happened if there hadn't been.