Parties Mean Cake!

So, last week hubby asked if I wanted to go to a retirement party. Its at that point that I stopped listening and have no idea where, for who, or really what the party is all about, because the moment he got to “party” my brain took over and began to think of all of the usual wonderful foods served at parties, to include cake. I said yes, mainly because of the whole cake concept.

So yesterday I looked at my calendar and realized that the party was today... free cake day, oh yeah, I’m so totally there, and was thankful that the calendar invite included the address and time of the place, otherwise I’d have no idea where to go for my free cake. I vaguely recall hearing that the “dress code” for the party (where I would get free cake) was business professional. This threw a slight monkey wrench into things, as my company has a dress code of “business professional”, but I typically “forget” to follow it and usually wear whatever I feel like throwing on (aka: clean clothes in closet, versus balled up fur covered clothes in hamper) and a lot of times I don’t even match, so I had to really think back and figure out what would actually be “business professional” appropriate and match. I dug out a dress I bought at Costco, found some leggings and matching dressy shoes, and prepared myself for free cake.

It was after showering that I looked in the mirror and discovered this:

Its Godzitta, right there on my face, plain as day, and very angry. This meant the liberal application of basecoat makeup that’s also a moisturizer, which will invariable cause Godzitta to breed like feeding a Gremlin after midnight... but I would get free cake, so it was worth the risk. Note how I’m blaming the basecoat makeup and not the fact that I would be gorging myself on free cake that would be the cause of more Godzitta.

To prepare for the free cake, I decided not to eat all day. This would ensure that I would consume maximum cakeability when it was served. This also meant that by the time I left at 12:30, I was ravenously starving to death. Barely able to steer the car. To make matters worse, I was driving behind one of those Giant grocery store Pea Pod delivery trucks that had pictures of lasagna and other foodables on the back. I drooled a little on the cute dress and my stomach growled so loud I had to turn up the radio. The sign on the back of the truck announced that the driver did not carry cash, but he did carry cashews... hahaha, um, at this point the driver’s life would be threatened for said cashews, and the frozen foods he carried, screw the cash. Please note that the Dragon Dictation program correctly transcribed it when I said that I was F*cking starving... to include adding the little *, because apparently Dragon Dictation is politically correct.

I sorta, kinda knew the way to the Hotel where the party (with free cake) would be, as my company had a party there once and they served sushi. Remembering that made me drool some more. I had the GPS on just to make sure it was the same place, but right off the bat, the GPS snarky bitch wanted me to go one way, I wanted to go another way, an argument ensued, and from starvation induced psychosis, I nearly threw the GPS out the window when snarky woman voice insisted I keep turning right when I wanted to go straight. This is the same snarky woman that pompously announces that there’s “traffic ahead” after I’ve been sitting in a traffic jam for 15 minutes.

I had left early because I a.) needed gas, and b.) wanted to stop off at Starbucks for a latte to help coat my stomach and cake does go well with latte, but hubby texted me to say that he was already there. SONOFA... so I drive to the hotel (which is the one I thought it was). Parked and met hubby near the back entrance. We greeted each other with growling stomachs. He hadn’t eaten either. Unfortunately he had scouted out the area, and pronounced that while the conference on something or other in the suite next to the retirement party was having a sumptuous buffet... there was no food in sight for the retirement party.

SERIOUSLY? What about cake?

No cake to be seen.

SERIOUSLY??? gurgle

We go inside the room where the retirement shindig is suppose to be, and I’m horribly dismayed to find that its a NAVY retirement ceremony! OHMYGAH!!!!! Don’t get me wrong, I love all things military, having served in the Air Force, I respect and honor all members of the military, past, present, and future, but if there’s one thing I know, its that any ceremony that involves the military means a lot of speeches, and presentations, and honoring traditions and doing things that take for FREAKIN EVER, which means that if there was even cake at the end (and at this point there was no evidence of any cakeability) it would be hours of sitting through a ceremony before we even got any.

We spotted some ice water and glasses and headed for that, filled up a few times to take the edge off our stomachs, which were now trying to eat other organs to keep from dying. I did grab some free hotel pens, and also gazed longingly at the little tiny bottle of ketchup that was sitting next to the water. Ketchup is a vegetable, after all, but for the life of us, we couldn’t figure out why it was sitting there, nor did we want to chug it down for fear that it was some sort of important prop in the Navy Retirement tradition.

We found some seats when the ceremony was about to begin and look with dismay at the extensive and LONG ceremony schedule of events. Hubby leaned over and asked if I had any gum. I didn’t. But I did have some Zyrtec, and well, Zyrtec sorta looks like tic tacs, so I figured... why not and popped a few in my mouth. While Zyrtec may sorta look like tic tacs, they certainly don’t taste like tic tacs and I’m pretty sure you aren’t suppose to suck on a few of them, but I was desperate.

At one point the speaker was listing the possible reasons why everyone was attending the ceremony; some attending because they were family, some attending because they wanted to honor the retiring Navy guy, some attending because... and my inner monologue said “... we wanted free cake”, but from the looks I got from hubby and a few people sitting around me, sucking on zyrtec disconnected my inner monologue and I must have said it aloud... probably LOUDLY aloud. To my credit, I managed to be a lot quieter when I told hubby that I was very interested in watching the “Passing of the Flag” ceremony, as that must be not only very interesting, but potentially very painful.

Being former Air Force, I should know my ranks, but the Navy ranks always threw me off because they wear their stuff on their sleeve with little golden lines and splurgly blobs and stuff. About the only thing I knew was that if a Navy guy was wearing a white hat, you saluted. Of course, hubby, being former Marine, gets on my case about calling it a “hat” its really a “cover”, and he calls it a “head” and not a bathroom. This “head” thing always cracked me up, and at one point when he was stationed at a Marine Corps base in North Carolina I had the opportunity to go to the “Ladies Head”, and the sign on the door actually said “Ladies Head” and I further embarrassed him by shrieking with laughter and calling out to him from across the room “HOLY CRAP you actually do call it that” In my head, this is what I always thought when I had to use the “Ladies Head”.

Ok, back to the ceremony thing. It was very nice, and I got weepy a bit with the whole patriotic thing and all, but that could also be because I was now toxic on sucking Zyrtec, so something like this MAY have happened, but I’m not saying.

Then it was all over... we ran for the door, stood in line to shake the retired guy’s hand, then raced to Ruby Tuesday to gorge on all you can eat salad bar and appetizers.