Carrot Cake for the Drunken Hearted

31 May

Background

So there I was, drunk off my ass at a friend’s house on New Year’s Eve, when suddenly, I had to puke. Someone was in the bathroom, and it was way too fuckin’ cold outside to even consider puking in the dark away from judgmental eyes. I puked in the only place that made any God-damned sense: the kitchen sink in front of a bunch of strangers. After that I was carried to an empty bedroom where I promptly puked in a trashcan handed to me by the owner of this lovely cake.

I don’t make a habit out of this super classy behavior, but I did think this friend was super cool about my awesome behavior. Although, in his defense, he was totally wasted too. I’m not really sure if that is defending him or not.

Always Thoughtful

This friend said he didn’t like cake. Who the fuck doesn’t like delicious cake? The answer: a soulless jackoff. I picked carrot cake for him, since he likes to walk around our workplace eating giant fuckin’ carrots. I know, only someone as fuckin’ thoughtful as me could come up with this shit.

The Cake

Look at that carrot fortress guarding that carrot cake of motherfuckin’ solitude!

Look at that carrot fortress guarding that carrot cake of motherfuckin’ solitude!

Here’s the completed product. Pretty fuckin’ amazing, right?

Here’s the completed product. Pretty fuckin’ amazing, right?

Note: Yes, I know this shit is hard to read. This was my first month of trying to write fuckin’ messages on cakes, so the green was a little too light. I don’t see you apologizing to people about your cunty behavior with a delicious, thoughtful dessert. You should be fuckin’ ashamed of your judgy self. Go die in a fire!

Recipe and Construction

Some people said this was the best carrot cake they ever had. How fuckin’ flattering. Check out the recipe.

I hand shredded all the fuckin’ carrots in this recipe by myself. That was probably over ambitious of me, but I think that helped in making it fuckin’ amazing and super moist.

The recipe didn’t call for a fortress of carrots, so you can figure out how many of those fuckers you need to put around the cake yourself. Seriously, don’t worry about leftover carrots. If you have leftover carrots you should probably eat them, Fatty.

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Dicktacular Cookie Cake

31 May

Background

My BFF (AKA: Fatty) really loves my chocolate chip cookies. Seriously, he’s been the cookie’s number one fan for years (sometimes I think he is only my friend in the hopes that I will bring him more cookies), so I decided to make him a giant fuckin’ cookie cake for his birthday.  A couple of things you should know about Fatty that might make this cookie cake more amusing for you:

  1. I call him “Fatty” because, well, he’s fat. Why else would you call someone “Fatty”? I care about his health and want him to change, and I know no other way to promote a healthy lifestyle than shaming him into one.
  2. This was actually for his 29th birthday. I was hoping to freak him out by making him think he was a year older than he really was. The reason he was a year older was because his wifey was pregnant, and everyone knows a pregnant wife ages you one year. (He’s totally getting a “Happy 40th B-day, Fatty!” cake next year.)
  3. He LOVES the cock. Seriously….he’s always drawing penii everywhere, or talking about penii, or just whipping his dick out in public. I think he has a condition, and, yes, I have advised him to seek help. I’d hope reading it here would help him see how sick he is, but he’ll probably just stare at his dick instead of reading this.

Cookie Cake Development

First, you make the best chocolate chip cookie dough in the motherfuckin’ world! (I may post the recipe one day.) Then, you grab a big ass hunk of that dough, pat it down in a circle, and bake it until it is done. It should be light brown on the edge, and in my oven on a pizza pan it took about 10 minutes per layer.

Repeat, so you can get two cookies. Keep repeating if you want, I don’t give a flying fuck what you do. I guess, how many layers you make will depend on how  fast you want to get DIABEETUS.

Then, let that shit cool. Warm cookies are totally tits, but the icing will melt off of a warm cookie. Heed my words of wisdom!

After you let that shit cool, spread a shitload of icing on it. I prefer Icing Good Enough to Make Your Dick Sneeze, but do whatever you want. You could try some chocolate buttercream icing. I bet that would be amazing!

I spread icing on a giant cookie. Bitches love icing.

I spread icing on a giant cookie. Bitches love icing.

Then, you can put the other cookie on top to make a giant fuckin’ cookie cake.

If you can eat this in one sitting you get a prize. The prize is DIABEETUS. Congrats!

If you can eat this in one sitting you get a prize. The prize is DIABEETUS. Congrats!

Write a sentimental message on the cookie (see picture below for example). You could also try these festive messages for turning 30:

  1. You’re 30? Blame Obama.
  2. Our elderly population is growing everyday, and you are not helping it any. Please die now and help save the planet.
  3. I’m sorry, should I have written this louder for you, old fucker?
  4. Bet you never thought you’d live to see 30 after that failed suicide attempt last year.
  5. You’re 30? Great! Lemon parties are at your place from now on!
I just knew that something was missing. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but I could put a whole hand on it and stroke it.

I just knew that something was missing. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but I could put a whole hand on it and stroke it.

For an added treat, draw dicks on that cookie that are big enough to intimidate Ron Jeremy. If you don’t think Ron Jeremy would feel inferior next to your penii drawings, then you are doing it wrong.

If you did it wrong, eat that cookie cake and start over. Repeat until you get that shit right. If you never get it right, please don’t tell people you got the idea on my blog and drag my good name in the dirt. I have worked pretty fuckin’ hard to be taken seriously as a baker, and I won’t have you ruining it with your shitty cookie.

Look at those beautiful penii!

Look at those beautiful penii!

Delivery

I made the cake for Fatty, but he lived about 750 miles away. After reading a lot about how to ship dainty desserts far away, I adhered to the directions and tips I felt like adhering to. I’m a fuckin’ adult, so don’t tell me how to ship my DIABEETUS!

I froze it in a pizza box, wrapped it in a fuckton of newspaper, and wrote “Fuckin’ Fragile”, “Do NOT shake me like your baby”, and “Handle me like you would tits: With care” all over it.

As you can see in the below picture, all my warnings to the USPS did me no good. It was broken in half, some of the wording was smashed, and delivered to a fuckin’ pussy.

Seriously, that fuckin’ pussy texted me pictures of him eating the cookie cake everyday for a week. Then, he texted me the pictures of him vomiting it up later.

Seriously, that fuckin’ pussy texted me pictures of him eating the cookie cake everyday for a week. Then, he texted me the pictures of him vomiting it up later.

TitTip 

If friends don’t love and respect you enough to live in the same city as you, then they don’t deserve a fuckin’ cake. Don’t send cakes (or giant cookies) in the mail. The result is heartache and sexts of cat vomit.

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Sportsball World Tri-Series-Athon 2013

30 May

Background

I am a HUGE sportsball fan! Okay, you got me. I haven’t watched sportsball in years and don’t keep up with any teams or players. However, I used to play basketball in high school and my father owned a sports card and paraphernalia shop for many years, so I do know a decent amount about sports and many give me no credit for my knowledge in the area. In their defense, I make fun of sportsball almost every chance I get.

I was invited to a Super Bowl party earlier this year, since that’s when the Super Bowl takes place. I hardily laughed at the Facebook invite, but before I could make a comment mocking everyone about the Super Bowl, someone announced that they were bringing something fuckin’ delicious and wrapped in bacon (AKA: heaven). “Holy fuck!” I thought. I almost forgot that Sportsball is usually accompanied with delicious, unhealthy food. I changed my mind and decided to go. What would I bring to a Sportsball showdown? Brownies seemed like the kind of desserst appropriate for sportsball.

Construction

I got this recipe from my old lady cook book, so if you want it you should go buy a cook book from an old lady. Be sure to tell the old lady that you are going to veganize all the recipes in the cookbook. This will make her think you are cool as fuck, and she will probably want to adopt you.

I doubled the recipe because I thought it was too small. However, after I added the icing this shit was super rich, like fudge, so you may only need to make one. I don’t ever regret making too much, especially since I needed an extra large canvas for my art.

Check out the big ass brownie!

Check out the big ass brownie!

After letting this shit cool, you should add some fuckin’ shiny icing! This is the icing recipe I used. This can easily be made vegan by using a non-cow (or non-other animal milk), vegan butter, and vegan chocolate chips.

This icing was like motherfuckin’ fudge, which means it was amazing. However, many people complain about stuff being too sweet. To them I say, “Shut the fuck up! Also, you might try a lighter glaze or no icing at all.”

Look at all that beautiful fuckin' icing.

Look at all that beautiful fuckin’ icing.

After applying the icing, you need to let it sit for a bit. Then, you can ponder what you want to write on it. I knew I was going to say something about it being the Super Bowl, without actually saying Super Bowl. That’s when I decided I could cram together a bunch of different championship-type sportsball events. That is how “Sportsball World Tri-Series-Athon 2013!” was born.

The words didn’t really cover jackshit on the brownie, so I needed more. I really wanted to get a field goal on the true nature of sportsball. (Field goal was the right sportsball term, right?) I pondered on the true essence of sportsball for some time, like a couple of minutes, or something.

I had a shittacular idea! I would cram as many of the sportsballs on this brownie that I possibly could. I hope you can fuckin’ see because I don’t feel like telling you how I fucked up all the different sportsballs.

TitTip: Stick figures are really versatile and get to the point.

I am a motherfuckin' artist!

I am a motherfuckin’ artist!

Afterward

I posted the finished product on Facebook to share with my friends, and the people who attended my friend’s Sportsball World Tri-Series-Athon got to see and taste this.

The brownie  ended up being interpretative art. The big dick-like thing in the stick figure’s hand was meant to be a baseball bat, but I fucked up the colors and most people thought it was a sword. I was fine with this interpretation, since sportsball would be, not only bearable, but awesome with swords. Dragons too.

I thought it would be fun to make up a sportsball of my very own, which is what in the other hand of the figure. Many thought it was a fried egg, which would also make sportsball more interesting for me. Quick! Someone invent this new sportsball! I think everyone involved in this new sportsball would be a winner.

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