so i saw this beautiful cake on the world wide web last week and emailed a picture to PerfectStepDaughter, who agreed that we should make this cake this weekend. being ever cautious in the kitchen, i thought it might just be easier to buy cake mixes and leave the fun part to the frosting and decorating. today was the day, but alas - PSD had something she had to do, so we;d wait till another time. but darn it, i wanted to make the cake...i could see the looks of awe on everyone's face as this beautiful cake was presented. what could be simpler? plus, i had about $60 worth of ingredients - including a can of frosting that came with 5 interchangeable tips that i was just dying to use. so i baked and did laundry, like a good housewife. soon, as the layers cooled, a furrow crossed my brow...Hey, I thought to myself...these cakes look waaaay too tall, and the cake itself waaaay too big to fit in my fridge. (i should know by now, after the famous birthday cake rodeo)but aaaaanyway. the cake is cooling, and i'm getting suspicious. and what is that i hear? Air 1. the sheriff dept helicopter flying over my house. for real. around and around. lights all over my house. and i'm thinking Betty Crocker must have called the damn police on me, that's what's happened here. and the cake is Ugly ugly ugly. and i try to slice it in half through the middle and parts fall all over and the strawberry layer cracks in half and the whole mess is just a mess. but maybe i can cover it with frosting. i have 2 kinds...whipped cream with strawberries folded in by hand (to secure the layers together), and cream cheese which has been tinted my favorite color pink. and the cream cheese just makes the top crumble up and the helicopter is flying over and the lady at 911 said to stay in but the dog really really has to pee and finally my husband comes home from the rehabber and i tell him what's going on, and as i turn to ask him to hold the chocolate layer, he's bolting upstairs to grab his holster and gun mofo hillbilly that he is and i'm running through the house with a layer of chocolate cake balanced in my hand and the cat ran in front of me and i'm yelling at the husband to put down his weapon and stay inside like 911 said and stop being a dork and help me make this cake. and his adrenaline is all jacked up and the dog has to pee. the cake is still ugly. i know the husband has to get past me with my mad on and knives handy, if he wants to get outside, so i am sure he's in for a while. i manage to construct the layers and by now, with the helicopter circling and the dog whining and the husband muttering about night vision goggles, i am just done with this cake, which i cannot even eat, being all sugar and whatnot. so, below, you will see the wretchedness of my attempt. scroll back up to see the pretty one...now...the fruits of my labor: is it any wonder i haven't slit my own wrists? update: it is dark o'clock monday morning. it appears no lottery win has saved me this weekend. i am exhausted. i am a hater, this morning, and would list the things i hate, but am too tired. the #1 thing is that i hate that i have to be awake this early today after listening to the helicopter and Rambo till 11:30, 12 o'clock last night, and then hear my alarm at 5am. maybe today i can rest my head on that gel thing that you rest your wrists on when typing. i will make every effort to find my real life soon. it is most likely under the pile of laundry that didn't get done in all the excitement. Linda