I just ate a piece of my homemade chocolate cake. I don't mean to sound conceited, but I make the best chocolate cake ever. Nothing tastes better then a piece of warm chocolate cake dripping with thick frosting. It warms my soul. Here is a picture of the piece of cake that I just ate:
Maybe I should not have included a picture, because the picture doesn't look as god as the cake actually tasted. However, it does provide proof that I actually had a piece of cake in my possession, in case you were thinking that I was so desperate for things to write about that I had to make up stories about chocolate cake. In fact I did more today then eat cake. I went to church, practiced my French horn and washed the walls in my Dad's rental house. I also did my laundry. Actually, my laundry is not done yet, it is still in the dryer, and I am not actually doing it. I just stuff it in the washing machine with some soap and go downstairs and eat cake and say that I am "doing my laundry." Then after a while I have to make the long trek back upstairs and put my wet laundry in the dryer and wait some more, i.e. eat some more cake. When the dryer stops I have the option of taking all my laundry out and folding it and putting it away, but I will probably put it in a heap on the floor and fold it later. After all, I can't eat cake and fold my laundry at the same time.
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