On Monday I celebrated my 200th blog post. By myself. And I sang that Celine Dion song "All By Myself" really badly and really offkey. And I drank too much wine and drunk dialed an old boyfriend.
You all too busy to give me a little love over here on blogspot.com? I work my fingers to the bones to give you stupid crap to read and you go and let my 200th post just go by like its some regular ol' post. And to be clear, it was just some regular ol' post but come on people!
Bestie Kim? You have been with me from the start. Where was the love? Lori DeBacker? This flippin' blog was your idea. You are like my agent and where were you? Oh, finding out what the gender of what your new grandbaby is going to be? Puh-lease. Paula Deen? You know I love and worship you and not even you could bake me a Gooey Butter cake from pauladeen.com to commemorate the day? You could have had Jamie and Bobby make it; I would have known it was coming from your heart.
I love cake. Cake makes me happy. Really happy. When I was pregnant with the midgets and had gestational diabetes I couldn't eat sweets and I used to dream about cake every night. Chocolate cake, yellow cake, wedding cake...doesn't matter. Just love cake. I would have loved one of you to make me a cake in the shape of a "200" just like they do for sitcoms when they tape their 200th episode. We could have stood around it and taken pictures and then posted them on here. We would have also posted the recipe for the cake because I'm sure it would have been delicious and everyone would have been asking for it.
To ease my pain I found this cake on the internet and I'll pretend that one of my readers in the South made it for me but just couldn't logistically be here with me to celebrate. And I don't know who in the heck that old guy is but I'm sure he's lovely and well deserving of having his face on my 200th blog post celebration cake.