Surprise Cake Rage

What is a pseudonymous blog for if not to express rage when people don't do things exactly as I've planned?

So my thirtieth birthday is coming up, and I'm visiting my father.  He and his almost-wife have just bought a motel, so this is the first time I've ever seen it.  There's a restaurant and stuff.

I kind of expected there to be a surprise birthday cake.  I've been going down to the restaurant every evening dressed presentably so that just in case there was a cake, I'd look okay when everyone in the rooms' eyes were on me.

Until last night, when I let my guard down.

The night before, we'd gone out to another, much nicer restaurant, for dinner.  I thought for sure if there was going to be surprise cake, it would happen there.  So I got all dressed up and I did look incredibly hot if I do say so myself. 

But no, there was no surprise and I thought that perhaps I was off the hook.  Or maybe they were saving cake for lunch time, when I didn't have to worry about anybody seeing me.

So last night, I turned up to dinner wearing daggy jeans and a daggy t-shirt with holes in the bottom, thinking I was safe.  And my hair! It was an horrific mess.  In fact, I could just about have handled daggy clothes if I hadn't known how my hair looked.

And that was when they decided to spring surprise cake on me.  Which I wouldn't have minded from people who hadn't just spent an evening hearing about how I was glad to get away from my home city because my aunt would doubtless have insisted on surprise cake and I hate surprises.

SERIOUSLY WHAT IS IT WITH PEOPLE?