With Sugar On Top

Tonight was the first tuesday of six that I will be spending three hours knee deep in frosting.

I'm signed up for a cake decorating class at the local bakery supply store about five blocks from my house. It's a beginner course and it only cost $45 so I thought, what the hell.

I thought that once you got older the age old stereotypes in classrooms defuse into one cohesive group of people that just all happened to want to learn about the same thing.

WOW, was I wrong.

I can go down the line of the other nine women in the class and they all fit nicely into their respective stereotypes.

First there is the "I have a masters degree" woman. You know the type.. every sentence starts with "well after I got my masters" or "when I was getting my masters" or "before I got my masters". All time has now become relative to at which time they became a new person.. which inevitably is when they received their piece of paper from whatever institution of learning deamed them dumbasses for spending MORE time in school. (hehe... yea, I'll probably get one too... so don't send hate mail!)

Then there is the "wallflower" ... whispers her name, blends in, can't remember anything specifically outstanding about her. I think she was even wearing white to match her blandness.

Next is the chick who wants everyone to know she's getting married. I call these women the "milk the marriage" girls. Every sentence begins with a story about there Fiance which they say with that little fianceeeeee inflection. "I wanted to take this class so I can hopefully be the uber-bride and make my own wedding cake... fiance, fiance, fiance". Yea yea....you're getting married, we got the point.

Then the "I'm with the girl who's getting married chick". She's just along for the ride so the "milk the marriage" girl can have someone to talk about color schemes and floral bouquets with. Usually the maid of honor or bridesmaid of some sort.

Next in line at the table was the "sorry I'm late, I have kids" mom. She looked frazzled and apologetic that she was 20 minutes late for the first class but began saying something about sick kids and then just gave up on her excuse and sat down. She has two little girls 4 and 2.. frankly I don't blame her. AND, I might add, if the instructor started needling ME about why I was late in front of the whole class and I had two sick little girls at home... I woulda told her to FUCK RIGHT OFF cause I'm paying HER to be there.

Two more non-descript women followed.

Then there was the too extremely older women with exceedingly noticeable blue eyeshadow from eyebrow to eyeliner. One with a cane the other very overweight. But they were sweet and were really there to get out of the house I think.

My favorite in the whole class who was of course sitting next to me, because I'm always just that damn lucky was "senora smarty pants". Hair cut in a precise bob with bangs wearing all denim even down to her ked's. Perfect penmenship and elaborate note taking proceedure. At one point she actually GRABBED my hand and pulled it away from my notes and said "I'm copying off your notes could you move your hand." She also was the type to try and catch the instructor in any contradiction she could possibly sniff out. Mention rather point blank that "no one touches my baking things because I live alone!" she said this proudly, not in an ashamed or aside manner. Good for her... but really, who gives a shit.

Then there is me... who I trust me I have no notions of grandeur about myself. I know I talk to much, too loud, am a class clown who tries for the perfect little pun or funny comment at all times. I usually get a laugh... and did quite a bit tonight. However, I'm not under any false pretenses .. and I know all those women are definitely blogging about me tonight saying, "and then there was the 'loud girl' who wouldn't shut up." FINE BY ME! :D

I'm not too keen on my instructor. I think she's taking this a bit too seriously. After the description of my fellow classmates you get the feeling we're all a bit low key about this. Yea, we want to learn, but it ain't college and NO, I'm not going to "call ahead" if I won't be there. I'm sure you'll all do fine without me.

The instructor might be a bit OCD too. She mentioned more than once that we were not allowed to call the towels R-A-G's. Yes, she actually spelled it with a disgusted face and a wrinkled nose. She also said that there was a washing sink, rinsing sink, and drying sink. NO MIXING SINKS! NO washing your couplers, tips or anything but your hands in the sinks!!! yada yada yada. She's a freak, but oh well, all I care is that she can make a rose and teach me in the process.

Mr. M will be home in three more sleeps, so I'm gonna get this one over with right now.

What do you think of the idea of bringing him daisies or iris' when he gets off the plane? (his two favorite flowers). Too girly? Too predictable?

Maybe I'll just make him a cake, with my new MAD SKILZ!