For Some Reason, I'm Remembering The People Who Made Fun of Me When I Got My First Period. It's their Screams I Remember Most. Good Times, Good Times
In December I went to the Bazaar Bizarre craft show in Los Angeles. My favorite thing there was the cakewalk, which featured a number of beautiful and odd cakes. Shown here: the Carrie cake.
And if someone could make a Linda Blair Soft Ice Cream Machine that spat pistachio ice cream out of the nozzle of its spinning head, while a recording played that part from the movie where she screams, "Your mother cooks socks in Hell (or something to that effect)," I would totally get one.
Who doesn't like cake and ice cream?
posted by Biff Loman at 10:49 PM
3 Comments:
That's a really cool looking cake, in an appalling sort of way.
And of course. . . everyone screams for ice cream.
Cool cake, however once upon a time long ago and faraway, my fellow bakers and I became so drunk we made a giant penis cake, for real.
We were drunk by noon, worked all day on making Christmas cookies, sobered up and were drunk again by 6:00pm.
After a while we called reinforcements, and they got drunk too and one of the bakers in particular, molested the guy who lived there in the house.
It wasn't me, I was sobering up in the Jacuzzi with a bottle of wine.
Don't you love the holiday season?
I'd love the holiday season if it meant getting molested by drunk women with penis cake.
No, for me, the season means charity work -- helping the poor realize their dreams of owning homes; reading stories to the blind, Braille-illiterate orphans; and training helper monkeys to change the diapers of the old and incontinent. But that's because i didn't know it could mean something else, and now I am kicking myself.
I missed out on perversion.
And cake.
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