Another year, another birthday that isn’t your Czarina’s. I haven’t had a birthday since my 29th.

What?

Not having birthdays doesn’t stop me from asking for birthday presents, though…usually in the form of something from Mulberry. But we’re not talking about my contorted and highly rule-intensive birthday construct for myself. We’re talking about the Czar’s birthday, and the distinct WTFery that danced on the periphery. It’s going to be a weird year.

Follow up:

Usually we celebrate the Czar’s birthday on New Year’s Eve. His birthday is in January, and as I’ve said in other posts, we blow out NYE. Well, this year, we neither blew it out, nor celebrated his birthday on that day. We chose not to spend much money this year because we want to be prudent. Well, HE wants to be prudent. I know I should be but it’s hard.

Another reason we didn’t go all out is that we wanted to give our New Year’s business to a local restaurant instead of a place that is relatively safe, like Avenues. We went to Cafe Absinthe and it was very nice and relaxing, except for the twentysomething Uma Thurman look-alike totally ignoring her date while texting someone else. Hey, honey? You’re not fooling anyone because, while you think you’re being sneaky holding your Sidekick in your lap, unless your face naturally glows blue, we know what you’re up to. I hope you paid for your half and didn’t expect that poor schnook to pay it all. Which he probably did, because you look like Uma.

Anyway.

So the Czar’s birthday got lost in all of that and I had to make it up to him. We chose to celebrate the Czar’s birthday dinner with friends of ours at Veerasway:

Veerasway is a modern Indian restaurant with an upscale yet casual atmosphere that features fresh and approachable Indian Food. We separate ourselves from traditional Indian restaurants by providing a modern approach to everything from the food to the décor.

We had eaten at Veerasway once before, mostly because it is right next to Sushi Wabi, and we didn’t feel like waiting to get into our usual place. Turns out it’s owned by the same folks. Our friends had never been there and they like to try new places, so hey. Why not?

And because I’m such a crafty biatch, I decided to surprise the Czar with a theme cake from The Bleeding Heart Bakery. I’ve seen Miss Michelle on a couple of Food Network Challenges, and I like how she stresses the organic and I greatly respect her niche of plying vegans with baked goods. I can tell you from experience that baking for vegans is no small feat, especially when you worship at the Temple of Lard, like your Czarina does.

So, I ordered a cake, and after a couple of back and forth emails on work computers and iPhones, we settled on the Czar in a gi (we’re both into mixed martial arts) and one Palace Dog. The cake was lemon and the filling was raspberry. So all that was set, and the cake, with delivery, for about 10 people was about $150.

I then confirmed with Veerasway that this cake was to be delivered.

Twice.

I’ll bet you can see where this is going, can’t you?

We get to the restaurant and the woman who is functioning as the hostess that evening pulls me aside to tell me the cake hasn’t come. I just stare at her, because I had just gotten an confirming email from BHB that it had been delivered. Finally, and not very stylishly at all, I blurt out, “You are f&^%&ing kidding me.” The hostess looks shocked – shocked! Then she says, “well, I’ll ask the chef, maybe I’m wrong.” We walk over to the chef’s window (meanwhile I’m trying to make this look casual as the Czar strolls in with our friend from parking the car). She asks the chef if the cake came and he gives her this weird look, and says, “Of course, it’s in the refrigerator!” She snaps back, “well, no one told me.”

So, relieved, I say, “Great, fine, just please bring it by for dessert.” And I toddle back to the table.

The food is really, really good. I love the street food, especially the banana peppers (monsoon mirchi), the samosas, and the vindaloo pork ribs. We got most of the available appetizers and just passed everything around and shared. A good time was had by all, until dessert.

So the waitress brings the dessert menus. I am confused but think maybe they’re being cheerfully misleading or something. The waitress comes back to take orders. Finally I have to assert myself.

Me: Um, we already have dessert planned.
Waitress: Oh. You’re going someplace else?
Me: *facepalm* Nooo….we have already decided on dessert.
Waitress: *blank look*.
Me: *headdesk* We have dessert. In back. In the fridge.
Waitress: Um. Hold on a minute. *stares into space, and then walks crookedly to the kitchen*
Czar and friends: *cracking up*.
Friend 1: Well, even I got that after the last one.
Me: *grouchy* Shut up.

Finally the waitress returns, followed by the hostess with the cake. The waitress apologizes, and apparently the hostess didn’t tell her (!) that we had a cake. I said that I guessed they didn’t do this much, but the hostess insisted they do get deliveries for parties all the time.

The chef didn’t want to stick a candle in the cake and ruin it, which was very nice, because it was an awesome cake, and the staff seemed very impressed with what BHB was able to accomplish. The waitress kept apologizing and asked if she ruined the Czar’s birthday. Of course she didn’t, because she wasn’t responsible for Veerasway’s communication snafus, she was merely swept up in it. So no grudges here.

Then, our digital camera was found to be dead, so we couldn’t get pics of the cake in non-violated form. So we just ate some of it. It was too big for all of us to eat and I decided to take it to work the next day, when I could get a picture of it and share it with my intrepid coworkers.

Behold, a pic:

Aside from how awesome the wood floor is, I think what I like best about it is how the Czar suddenly is a black belt. We’re pathetic noobs in our dojo in reality, but CAKE isn’t about reality.

I was very interested to see what my discerning co-workers made of my cake. And by co-workers I mean hangers-on in my office, including wandering maintainance people that seem to seek out the food on our floor and random visitors. And by discerning, I mean they eat just about anything. Especially Finance. *shudder*

Just keep your hands and feet away from their mouths.

The cake was placed and ready to go at 8 am. It was gone by 10:30 am. I am not kidding. It probably would have been gone even faster than that, but I had to write a note explaining that it was indeed edible – some people had never seen a cake covered in fondant before.

After the cake was gone I asked people what they thought about the insides, and they agreed with me about two points. One was that the cake was a bit dry (it was the night before as well), and two, that the raspberry was a bit too sweet. These slight problems were not enough to dislike the cake, but it kept me and everyone else from raving about the taste. The decoration was another matter, and many people asked where I got it because, apparently, there are tons of pending children’s parties that need organic fondant Elmos.

I figured that was that. So I go about my business.

I come back in the afternoon, and the Czar is decapitated. The body was lying on top of the cake, limbs askew.

Someone ATE HIS HEAD.

And the dog was missing.

SOMEONE ATE MY HUSBAND’S HEAD AND OUR DOG.

I knew my co-workers were strange sometimes but…man.

As I was contemplating this, the Director of Billing walked by. I pointed this out to him, and, having a bizarre sense of humor, he dipped his finger in the raspberry filling and spread it on the figure’s neck so it looked like he was bleeding. “There,” he said, “that’s better.” And he walked off, whistling.

WTF.

I paid $150, and what I got was a good looking cake, that tasted only okay, that was alternatively feted over and forgotten about, and that finally met its demise in all kinds of sadistic ways.

I am having trouble coming up with the moral to this story, an Aesopian guideline for 2009. I think ultimately it just speaks to the random nature of communication messes and how we’re invisibly living Lord of the Fliesevery day.

All we need is a conch and we’re all set.