I have to admit a crime of the worst nature. I took journalistic license (read: journalistic lies) with a photo.
The cake pictured in the entry preceding this one was not my actual birthday cake. Rather, it was a cake I swiped off the Internet. I liked it because it was portrait Americana, with poofy buttercream-frosting flowers and presumably set on a foil-wrapped piece of cardboard (more journalistic license). And it looked like it was on fire with all those candles.
I'll rationalize my crime by saying, "Hey, it was my birthday."
My own birthday goodie was a fine work of culinary art: guava chiffon cake from King's Hawaiian Bakery & Restaurant, a gift from my friends J & M. Onolisicious! Much to my delight, it was pink inside, and it had real whipped cream as frosting.
It did send me into pangs to hear M spent TWO HOURS in pursuit of my cake, from the drive to King's to the wait for the cake to the drive home. Rather than saying "thank you" to M, I told him it was well worth two hours of his life for my partygoers and me to enjoy that cake. I'll rationalize that bad behavior away by restating: It was very good cake.
Here were the remains of the cake last night:
And here's what was left after breakfast this morning:
Heeheehee. Happy Birthday to me, indeed.