Spent my birthday at the dojo (where else??). However, there was an ice cream cake when I got home. I don't like to eat that sort of stuff in the middle of the week, but I didn't have a lot of wiggle room, so I scarfed down two pieces. When I was done I looked at the blur of strawberry ice cream, whipped cream, red velvet cake crumbs, and green icing. I kept looking for a metaphor. Finger painting? Not quite. Psychedelic trip? The colors were too bright. They were vivid, they smiled in that way that all the elements of a birthday cake should. That didn't leave me with a lot of options.
It's settled then, my birthday slop was a metaphor for birthday slop. Where's my Pulitzer?
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