holy cupcakes, batman

Tayo turned three today and had a superhero-themed party (yeah it was totally my idea) for which I made the above Batman and X-Men themed cupcakes. Having exposed him to Spiderman since he was a baby and Batman for the past year or so, I decided it was time to introduce him to Wolverine and the X-Men so got him, as part of his present, the animated X-Men series that used to be on CBBC on Saturday mornings when I was a kid (and it's not like I got so excited about it I cracked the DVD open and watched an episode before I wrapped it up or anything...)

Midway through his party I saw him crouched on the floor staring intently at a Marvel Heroes napkin (we'd gone and got a bunch of Marvel Heroes party crap the night before - paper plates, cups etc). I went over to see he was okay and he asked me to tell him again (as per our conversation the evening before) who all the characters were, and explain how exactly it was Peter Parker became Spiderman and Tony Stark became Iron Man. I think he got it. It was cute to see he'd remembered our conversation from earlier and was really trying to commit the characters to memory. We'll make a comic book geek of him yet. Especially with me as his godmother, giving him X Men crap and Spiderman hoodies:

ooh baby baby

Magnolia-recipe cupcakes I made for Sam's baby shower - with enough sugar in them to make a sloth hyperactive. So much amazing food was provided: bakewell tarts and victoria sponge and chocolate crispies and cream cakes (blech) and Ferrero Rocher, but after being around so much sugar - and it's not like I was even sampling the mixture, the sugar was just hanging in a cloud above the kitchen - I couldn't handle anything sweet and sat at the party lamely munching on carrot sticks (and the odd jelly baby) half wishing I had volunteered to make something a little less sweet.

Quote of the afternoon courtesy of her very well-behaved and polite (and adorable) 2 1/2 year old nephew Henry, about whom she had been trying to convince us he was not at all a pretentious child, after she asked him what he was saying: "Oh I'm not saying anything; I'm singing in French." Pretentious, moi?

high culture, low culture

Spend the day running around - over to J&R [camera sale!], down to Abercrombie at Southstreet Seaport for my sister [I spend max. 2 mins walking through the store repeatedly thinking I fucking *hate* this shop then have to leave] and to Pier 17 where the view down the East River of the Brooklyn Bridge and beyond makes everything feel strangely fake.

Then it's back to Brooklyn, rest up for a few minutes, meet up with Dan then head up to the Met for some overdue culture. I've barely been to the Met - just one time on an MB organised trip that was ruuuuubbbbish - so I'm pysched to finally see it. The place is immense. We check out the mummies and the two exhibits and some photos and then spend a while trying to find a picture I want to see: "It's a number 5. It goes with that William Carlos Williams poem." "Okay. Who's it by?" "Ummmmm..." Figuring it's gonna be in the Modern Art section we head there and slowly but surely locate the painting I was talking about:*

By now we're both being old people and our feet are killing so we head home. I get in, text Lauren to see if she wants to get dinner in the 'hood instead of Union Sq - but apparently the party we're meant to be going to [that, truthfully, I was considering bailing out of 'cause I'm knackered] will have food. I sit down for five minutes, sugar up on Nerds, then have to head back out again to go meet Lauren.

We head to Shallon's book party just off Union Sq. We're like the first people there. We have the open bar and the snacks alllll to ourselves. Awesome. We hover by the chips-n-dip after pouring generous vodka-Frescas for ourselves until people we know turn up. Rob Hitt, Sarah H, Alex Sarti, other Crush Mgmt peeps... We're hanging out by the cupcake table - cupcakes with letters on them that, originally, spelled out 'Congratulations on the book Shallon'. Only after a fair few drinks...




All the free alcohol means things descend even further...



...until some of us decide to split. Lauren, Sarah, Sarti and I leave and, for lack of decision of what else to do, head to Beauty Bar where Omri is spinning. While there I also run into Jenny, the Lula photo ed., who I haven't yet seen in NY, which is pretty cool. We take a seat and argue about what to do next... Annex... Guns 'N Roses afterparty ["It's in midtown? Ewww."]... no decision seems to be reached but we head out anyway, waiting while Lauren runs into KFC to use their bathroom. There's a rat out front of the restaurant, just hanging out. It's kinda gross.

Standing outside the KFC, we all realise we're tired and a wee bit drunk perhaps, so - more old people antics - decide to head home. Lauren and I wait for the L and as it pulls in I notice Andrew and Alex Littl'an, and LaRue already on the train so we jump in their car and say hi. I entrust Lauren to them at Lorimer and stumble to the G to get back to Carroll Gardens...


*the painting is by Charles Demuth
**I stole most of these photos from Lauren

mmm cupcakes

One of my oldest friends – actually, the oldest, she’s a week older than me and I’ve known her since birth – has been back in the Smoke this week from Oop North, after ending a relationship after six and a half years. The other night was “cheer L up” night; along with another friend [with whom we formed an inseparable trio at primary school] we decided to bake cupcakes, as when they’d visited me in NY I’d taken them to Sugar Sweet Sunshine where, over mouth-wateringly amazing cupcakes, we’d discussed how we’d bring the cupcake revolution to London someday.

So back to present day, and we’re in A’s new apartment [that she’s just bought], in the process of trying to induce sugar comas by making Magnolia-recipe cupcakes and frosting [with a liberal “some frosting for the cake, some straight in my mouth” policy]. And I’m thinking, here we are, mid-20s, dealing with two adult topics – mortgages and buying a place [A], and the most significant relationship in L’s adult life ending. The kind of things Adults talk about. But then we’re also playing around with food colouring and discussing how the new Smarties look rubbish and being messy – and generally acting pretty similar to how we did when we were 8, let’s face it.

And by the time the cupcakes are actually finally done, cooked, cooled, frosted and decorated, we all felt so roundly sick from picking at the frosting and Smarties lying around that no one could even stomach one. So we left A. to try and fob them off on her roommate, while we took some back for our families, relishing the walk home over the bridge to try and burn off some of the sugar. Not that it actually worked of course, and I got home at 11:30pm with a sugar-high like 5 year old let loose in a sweet shop.