At breakfast with a friend of ours on Saturday morning, the words Business and Venture and Sex and Move came together somehow. I am not sure who said them. My brain wants to say that I did, but I think it was the Palinode or our friend.
At any rate, I piped up: That sounds like a band name, "Business Venture Sex Move". Or maybe I did not pipe up.
I like the way Business Venture Sex Move sounds. I would like to be in that band, or at least watch them play.
I like to think I made them up myself, even though I probably did not.
Then, we went grocery shopping, and I fell in love with a tray of pink cupcakes.
I do not like the colour pink or things that are heart-shaped. My sweet tooth wore itself out in my early thirties. Foods that are too artificially coloured make me nervous. There the cupcakes were, though, being frighteningly pink and absorbing more colour into their mounds of icing from the hear-shaped sprinkles that had been thrown into the clear plastic tray with them.
They were miniature, like they were treats for people with little hands or those who pretend that miniature food will not make them fat.
Despite my finding them to be hideous and sickening, I wanted to buy them so I could take pictures of them in the evening light.
Can I buy those? I asked the Palinode, as if I were eight years old and had to ask permission.
Of course, but why? he asked back. His face was pulled into a grimace of disgust.
Because they are so pink! I said.
I carried the tray in my hands while we went through the checkout and while we took a taxi home and while we carried our groceries up to our apartment. I did not want anything to press the plastic carton in to wreck the swirls that were still perfect on half the cupcakes.
In the middle of my cupcake photo shoot, which took place on blue bristle board on a corner of the bed where the evening light shone long, the cats moved in to investigate. They upended the cupcake, leaving stains on the paper and pink icing on their nose leather. After that, they kept sneaking back to steal more icing. It is two days later, and they are still the only inhabitants of our apartment to eat that stuff.
I found a pair of tweezers in the carton yesterday. The pink cupcakes must have become insecure about the cat hair moustachios they were sprouting.
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