Acceptance, Rejection & the Shittlebury Cake

On Sunday, we went over to my cousin's house for dinner. We love them, but this visit was tinged with sadness because my niece (2nd cousin? cousin once removed?) had just gotten a rejection letter from Middlebury, her first choice. I have many nieces and nephews in the college application age bracket, so normally I'd chalk it up to competition and move on. But this Middlebury thing got my knickers in a knot.

My niece, Ally, is that rare person who is super smart, talented, charitable and wonderfully cynical. (So you don't have to loathe her.) She asked me to edit her college essays and one of them literally brought me to tears (KC got misty too). She got a full ride to St. Lawrence.  The YMCA gave her an award for being kickass.

So my question is this: if Middlebury didn't accept Ally, who got in? I can only imagine the collection of do-gooder-prima-ballerina-found-a-cure-for-cancer-on-the-side-half-cherokee-tight-assed pollyannas that will make up the Freshman class. I knew one person who went to Middlebury when I was in college, and she was a lock-jawed, vanilla, anally impaled by large stick biznatch. Good riddance, I say!

Anyway, I was responsible for bringing dessert. To show my solidarity, I baked the Shittlebury Cake...

Sooooooo tasty.