Friday, July 2, 2010

All Frosting and No Cake

I was having a bit of leftover birthday cake for dinner tonight because the kids are gone and...who cares.  Anyway, as I started scooping out cake from under a balloon of frosting I realized, "I really don't go crazy over frosting."  I mean, I remember being desperate to get the piece with Holly Hobby's whole basket of flowers on my 7th birthday but I'm sure I didn't eat it all.  At least not without becoming extremely sick afterward.  And I'd never drool over the corner piece of cake.  ever.  Too much sugar.  nauseating.  I'd rather have good cake.  Cheesecake especially.  That doesn't even need frosting.

Also, this cupcake craze that's happening now irritates me more than I would like to admit. Because when did cupcakes turn into OMG! CUPCAKES!  *SQUEEEEE!!!!*  ouch.  you're hurting my ears.  And these things have more frosting than actual cupcake.  I know this because my middle sister Jan Brady gave me one for my birthday last year and I pushed the candle all the way down in the frosting and only the wick stuck out.  That was weird.  (but it was a nice peace offering.  Thanks Jan Brady)  But anyway, they're just damn cupcakes for cryin' out loud.  They're cute and all but good grief shut up.

So today, all three of us Brady sisters were down at the beach with the kids.  Jan also invited a friend; she's a woman I've met a few times, nice enough, couple of kids appropriate playmate age, whatever.  Cindy brought a novel to read and Jan and friend chimed in and started talking about books.  I sat trying to angle myself like a human sundial to maximize getting a late start to the beach day.  "Oh, I love her!  I've read the whole series!  Have you gotten to the part where...?"  I glanced at the spine of the book.  Less than an inch thick.  I closed my eyes and tried to tune out author recommendations I would never use. 

Jan Brady attempted a segue to involve me in the conversation.  "Silver, you like vampire fiction..."  I opened one eye.  "Stacy reads Twilight!  Have you read those?"  I opened both eyes.  Stacy looked at me expectantly with words aching to leave her mouth about this.  I looked at Jan.  Then back to Stacy.  "Uh.  No.  I'm not really into the Twilight thing."
"Oh!  You should really read those!  My girlfriend and I? haven't seen the latest one yet? but we went on opening night to the last one? blah blah bought a t-shirt! etc. etc. Team Jacob!" and they looked for my reaction.  It's moments like that I wish I had a poker face.
"Yeah.  No.  I like my vampires with more sex and death and gore.  I can't get into Twilight."

Apparently Stacy also likes novels with [whispers] "s-e-x" in them too.  Period pieces.  Historical romance novels.  something about time travel?  Stacy is also a lover of Nicholas Sparks.  I know to the bottom of my feet Stacy would have been on the fanwagon with Bridges of Madison County if this were 15 years ago.  Now, that's a book I actually read when it came out because I could not figure out why all these women were going ape over this swoon Greatest Love Story Ever in the Whole World!  swoon. 

It was one of the most godawful pieces of schlock I have ever forced my eyes across.  Even at 22 when I read it I thought that if I got to be 40 years old and viewed that abominable pile of shit as the greatest love story of anything, somewhere my life had taken a very wrong turn.  Bland to the point of barely breathing.  No way was I going to let my adult self be captivated by crap like that. 

Now, I have plenty of women I consider friends, at least by facebook standards, who geek over this Twilight and Nicholas Sparks stuff.  They are the ones who have bunco parties to which I am not invited.  And Pampered Chef parties.  And book club.  And monthly, couples, themed dinner parties.  And beach week in Hatteras with the girls where the edgiest thing they might do is sing Love Shack at karaoke (as a group of course) after a few mangotinis and maybe if they're feeling super badass they'll all get matching butterfly tattoos on the top of their feet or something.  On one level I like these women.  On many, many other levels the bore the living shit out of me.

Jan Brady and I talked about this in the car on the way home. 
Jan: I like her.
Me: What's not to like about her?  She's incredibly nice.
Jan: But I can't get a read on her.
Me:  That's because there's nothing to read.
Jan:  She organizes playdates and all those parties and she reads...
Me:  Yeah, but that's it.  There's nothing more to her than that.  No other levels.  No guts.  It's like she's a house without a basement.

Which is kind of dumb to say because none of the houses in Pleasant Valley have basements because we're below sea level but you know what I mean, right?  There's no fire.  No passion.  No point.  Women like that do whatever they do because Oprah said so, or the mom in the carpool line, or that commercial on TV with the catchy music.  I mean, to whisper-spell the word Sex in adult company?  What the fuck is that about?

It's like they're all frosting and no cake. 


diane said...

amen on the shlock pieces of poop books. Really, what CAN you say when someone who is otherwise nice goes on about how you should read them. I try not to be too judgmental, but . . . I consider it a complete waste of time reading those books. So, I bite my tongue to keep from blurting out "I'ld rather poke my eyes out!"

Silver said...

There is no antonym to the verb "judge"...kinda sucks. I just accept that's who she is and she's probably not someone I'll be spending a whole lot of time with. ever. :)