I may not have a dime, but I've got street savoir faire...

Nice day.
Got up at a sensible-ish time, sorted out a hotel for going to smirnoff_ryuu's party, wrote down my brainwave from last night (it's a good 'un :P), did some writing, etc.
This afternoon I was seized by an urge to make a cake. So I made a victoria sponge, with jam and buttercream in the middle and buttercream on top. It was jolly nice if I say so myself. I'm rubbish at making proper meals, but I'm pretty good at cakes. Ooh, and it had sprinkles on the top in the shape of little animals. Which was fun.
We dug in pretty quick, and everyone said it was nice. Rich had a slight constructive criticism to make about the sickliness, but it was a fair point, so I'm not cross with him for it.
However, later on, he did throw a football in my face. So yes, bit cross about that. But it was sort of an accident, if not entirely. But it still hurts quite a bit. So I'm wavering.
Maybe I could forgive him if he let me plait his hair. Rich, if you're reading this, can I plait your hair?