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Handle With Fuckin’ Care: How to Mail Baked Goods to Your Hoes

4 Dec

It’s that time of the year again: The Fuckin’ Holidays. Time to show some hoes you care by sending them baked goods.

However, there are a lot of things to worry about when sending your hoes diabeetus:

  1. The dropping and subsequent destruction of your shitty baked goods.
  2. Spontaneous combustion.
  3. The mail-person rubbing their genitals on your box of baked goods. (You’ll know this took place when your hoes complains about a very peculiar stain and/or hole on the box.)
  4. Your package of baked goods being delivered to the wrong hoes.

How do you keep your hoes happy? Just follow the packing advice of Dis Hoe (that’s me, The Foul-Mouthed Baker), then you won’t have to worry about a mother fuckin’ thing, bitch.

1st Fuckin’ Step: Bake some shit. This time I made a fuckton of cookies: chai oatmeal raisin, the best fuckin’ chocolate chip cookies, spicy chocolate chip, and peanut butter blossoms.

2nd Fuckin’ Step: Put your cookies in freezer bags and seal dem bitches up tight. Hoes don’t like stale-ass cookies.

3rd Fuckin’ Step: Acquire some kind of packing material and place inside your box to cushion the bottom of your baked goods. Don’t spend a lot of money on this, since it is just for some hoes. I used plastic bags from the grocery store, which I usually use to dispose of my cats’ excrement.

Put your shit in the box.

Put your shit in the box.

4th Fuckin’ Step: Start putting the bags in the boxes. Yes, boxes. I have a lot of hoes that need their diabeetus fix.

Yo, Hoes! Look at all the shit in these boxes.

Yo, Hoes! Look at all the shit in these boxes.

TitTip: Be sure to use a Wal-Mart bag in every box. This way your hoes know you only used the finest fuckin’ ingredients.

I purchase only the finest fuckin' ingredients at the classiest establishments.

I purchase only the finest fuckin’ ingredients at the classiest establishments.

5th Fuckin’ Step: Put some more packing materials on the sides and top of the box to give the cookies some cushion because they are going to be pushed. I think I messed that line up, but the main idea is to protect your cookies from being fucked.

Looks like trash? That's because I sent it to trailer trash. Treat trash like trash. That should be a new proverb.

Looks like trash? That’s because I sent it to trailer trash. Treat trash like trash. That should be a new proverb.

BTFW: If you run out of plastic bags, or are a cheap mother fucker, you can usually find some local newspapers for free.

Crumbling up a Kansas newspaper made me feel a little better about living in Kansas.

Crumbling up a Kansas newspaper made me feel a little better about living in Kansas.

There are some shitty cookies located in the box of trash.

There are some shitty cookies located in the box of trash.

6th Fuckin’ Step: Properly label the box so it doesn’t get tousled around during transportation.

This shit is fragile, yo!

This shit is fragile, yo!

7th Fuckin’ Step: Be sure to address it to the right hoes. I wanted to make sure my package got to specific hoes: Dem Hoes.

Dem Hoes love cookies.

Dem Hoes love cookies.

FYFI: The best part of mailing this was when the lady at the post office pointed at “Dem Hoes” and asked if that was a name. She didn’t seem to understand what it meant, even after I told her it wasn’t a name. She wrote “Dem Hoes” on the tracking receipts. This was probably one of the most fucktacular moments of my life.

Look at all Dem Hoes!

Look at all Dem Hoes!

Don’t be a cunt, and send some diabeetus to your madre and padre. Titbit: Don’t address your parents as “Dem Hoes”. Some people think I don’t have a line to cross, but there it is. I won’t refer to my parents as hoes.

Respect your fuckin' parents.

Respect your fuckin’ parents.

8th Fuckin’ Step: Ward others from stealing your package by placing a warning label on it. This way no one will want to steal the shit you made for your shittacular hoes.

Watch out, Hoe! You might get contaminated.

Watch out, Hoe! You might get contaminated.

9th Fuckin’ Step: Marvel at your diabeetus and think about your soon-to-be-fat hoes.

My table collapsed under the weight of the diabeetus. RIP: Shitty table.

My table collapsed under the weight of the diabeetus. RIP: Shitty table.

Mailing small cookies is much easier than mailing a giant diabeetus cookie. Although this pussy was still pretty fuckin’ satisfied.

 __________

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