UPDATED: I Must be a Princess. Or Maybe, a Horse

After work today, they gave me a crown.

Not work, what are you thinking?  There aren't crowns of any kind at work. The dentist. The dentist gave me a crown.  I told everyone at work I had to leave on time for my coronation.  They found it funny.  I was in a mild state of panic.

My poor teeth.

This is crown number three. Like a Triple Crown, only without running the Derby. Or, you know, being an actual horse.  Probably. Or maybe being a princess horse, I don't know.

This is the third crown out of seven that I need.

I keep asking myself what the hell I did to deserve this.  I brush my teeth.  I floss. Occasionally.  I don't drink a six pack of Mountain Dew every day like I did in high school.  But my teeth are like chalk.

I would like to blame years of poverty.  Maybe genetics.  It could even be aliens.

It has nothing to do with my incredible desire for sweets, and excuses to eat them.

For example... Wednesday was Groundhog's Day.  Awesome holiday.  It is probably awesome because I don't live in Punxsutawne, PA.

That, and Groundhog's Day, the movie with Bill Murray, which is one of those funny, yet deeply philosophical movies that I try to watch at least once a year.

We have a party to eat pizza, drink beer, and watch it with friends.  I never miss it. Except for the time I had to go to Texas for work that week, or the years I lived in New Orleans.

Some years back, my dad and I decided we should make a Groundhog's Day cake to celebrate.  This involves a box of red velvet cake and some creative cutting.  Every year since it's inception, I decide after I make the cake that next year, next year I will learn more about cake sculpting and make a truly magnificent groundhog cake.

And every year, I forget about it until Groundhog's Day Eve, and I have to rush to the store to buy a box of cake mix and some frosting.

This year, instead of having him lay down like some sad roadkill, Dad and I decided to try to figure out how to make him stand up.

We "succeeded".

Front view of the "Groundhog Cake".

Of course, there were some problems.

The cake mix I used was really soft.  When I bake, even out of a box, my cakes end up light and fluffy and beautiful.  And structurally unsound.

We added some wooden skewers to help it keep it's shape.  And it sort of worked.  Except that they look like fangs or something.

The cake was so soft that the frosting would rip large chunks of the red velvet cake out.  So we nuked the frosting into liquid in the microwave and drizzled it.

The little white things are breath mints, if you're wondering.

I decided it looked more like an alien disguised as a groundhog based on a poor, secondhand description from a psychotic four year old than a groundhog.

Before we put it in the outside fridge, it was already listing. 

We decided that the "groundhog" needed some scale, so I found my toy pirate, and some skulls to make it more realistic.

Note the skulls in the foreground.

But yeah.  He was delicious, and looked appropriately like roadkill when served up.

I made sure I had a big knife, and the red velvet cake spurted like blood.  I said "Who wants a leg?" and equally ridiculous things while carving him up.  He was glorious.

But anyway, what I was saying is that this is NOT the reason I have bad teeth.  I have bad teeth because aliens experimenting on my enamel and it has nothing to do with sugar.

But it might be why I am a princess.


UPDATE: Something I forgot to mention was my unbelievable embarrassment when I sat up after receiving my crown, and realized I had a huge booger hanging out that the poor dental assistant was probably staring at the whole time.   Princesses get boogers, too, you know.

UPDATE 2:  After a number of requests and the obviousness of the thing, I have managed to get some pictures of the cake after and while we "carved" it.  Thanks, Shannon and Dave...

Me and Dad with our creation.

Have knife, will use.

So.  Appetizing.