I promised you pics of the Care Bear Birthday party. And when I promise, I deliver. Let’s start with the decorations – let me preface this entire post by saying that only seven people were there (including myself, Ross, and Scarlett).
This doesn’t look like it’s that bad but that Care Bear banner was EVERYWHERE. I cut out like a gazillion of those little fucking bears. Then I hot glued them to the ribbon, burning several of my fingerprints off in the process. Then it fell off the table as I was knuckles deep in glue which tangled the shit out of it. I think I spent more time untangling the stupid thing than actually putting it together. We also had plates and napkins that I spent waaaaaaay too much money on for paper plates but they were cute as hell and I’m fine with it. Thanks hardtofindpartysupplies.com! Yes, that’s real thing. I might have a Rainbow Brite party for myself this July. I’m looking forward to buying over priced plates and cups for my 41st.
Also, I need to point his out because, for some reason, I really liked my rainbow fruit platter.
And yes, those are tiny marshmallows. They’re supposed to be clouds. Don’t judge.
Let’s move on to the cake which really impressed my dad and my father-in-law, not to mention Ross.
This wasn’t the hard part, the cake was really just mixing a bunch of food coloring for the six separate cakes. Here’s where it gets complicated. I iced the layers in a tower of six cakes then rolled it in sprinkles. That’s right, bitches, I rolled that fucker in sprinkles and hoped and prayed that the thing wouldn’t fall apart.
I tried to do clouds on top of the cake with icing but it looked like shit so I scraped it all off and then dropped a shit-ton of sprinkles on top too.
Now, you might think to yourself, this isn’t that bad. You’ve over hyped this thing. Perhaps. I would like to remind you that only four outside people came to this party and it was our parents soooooo, we could have gone with nothing and it still would have been okay. I have a problem but I do love a theme. I refuse to apologize for this. My crazy is my crazy and I own it. I’ll be honest with you, it stresses me out but I secretly love it.