Tag Archives: Chocolate

Cake Fuck-Ups: Part 1

7 Nov

I am not a professional cake decorator or baker, so I make a lot of mistakes. Because my professional reputation is not on the line, but mostly because I don’t give a shit, I feel no embarrassment in sharing my fails with people. If you pay attention, you might fuckin’ learn something.

Fail #1: Not paying attention to recommended temperatures.

I thought I had this baking shit down, but not too long ago I burnt a cake while teaching a friend how to bake. It taught her the valuable lesson of not having the temperature a 100 degrees over what’s recommended.

Don't let recommended temperatures tell you what to do! Unless, you don't want to burn your cake.

Don’t let recommended temperatures tell you what to do! Unless, you don’t want to burn your cake.

Fail #2: Scraping a wonderfully decorated cake against the side of a pan, like a fuckhead.

The first time I decorated a cake all fancy n’ shit, I scrapped it against the side of the pan, which fucked it up a bit. I should probably be more careful with this shit.

Oh well, your friends probably aren't professional cake decorators, so those fuckers will never notice, unless you put it up on the Interwebs and circle it in red. 

Oh well, your friends probably aren’t professional cake decorators, so those fuckers will never notice, unless you put it up on the Interwebs and circle it in red.

Fail #3: KILL ALL THE FRUIT FLIES!

Trying to bake in an apartment filled with fruit flies is pretty fuckin’ ridiculous. Those flying assholes are attracted to anything sweet, so they will fly right ontowhatever I’m mixing or baking. I’ve lost many good cookies and cakes to fruit flies, or rather pieces of cookies and cakes. I didn’t throw away the whole batch. I’m not fuckin’ wasteful, and, you know, starving kids in Africa and some junk.

Nommy! A fuckin' smashed fruit fly!

Nommy! A fuckin’ smashed fruit fly!

Cat fur in my baked goods is a whole different story, and a more frequent occurrence.

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Peanut Butter Bar For Peanut Day

13 Sep

Today is Peanut Day! Celebrate the day with peanut butter bars to help progress you and your friends’ diabeetus.

Background

I was going to make up some really cool story about a near-death experience that would have involved dragons, dick zombiesPenisaurus RexVagina Raptor, a unicorn, and a couple of lolcats, but that may have caused the Interwebs to throw up in its mouth.

The only car accident I’ve ever been in happened earlier this year. I hit some slippery ice, spun around in the middle of the Kansas turnpike, hit the middle concrete-divider-thing, and lightly landed just off the side of the road. My friend and I weren’t hurt, and somehow there was just a slight dent in her car. She’s still my friend and doesn’t try to make me feel like a bad person for crashing her car. Also, neither one of us shit our pants, so in my book that’s a win.

Risk you life and receive a dessert. Worth it!

Risk you life and receive a dessert. Worth it!

My friend had been wanting a peanut butter bar for nostalgia purposes for a little while, so I thought she deserved it after almost killing her. Life is short, eat peanut butter bars, and die a slow death by diabeetus.

FYFI: I used my own fucktacular recipe. I decorated with Icing Good Enough to Make Your Dick Sneeze.

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Don’t Let the Dark Side Ruin Your Nameday, Harry Potter.

31 Jul

Today is Harry Potter’s Name Day, but he’s dead, right? Instead, I will tell you about the time I was tasked with making a chocolate birthday cake for Professor McGonagall.

You are probably wondering why a powerful wizard of the Light Side would task a muggle with making a cake. The answer is: I have no fuckin’ clue. Prof McGonagall said she would give me a sock and not kill me if I made her a cake. I’m not sure why I would want a sock, but I didn’t want to die; therefore, I decided making her a cake would be in my best interest.

The Epic Adventure: Making a Cake

Very early in this epic adventure, I made the mistake of an apprentice baker: I burned the fuckin’ cake. This burnt cake was clearly the work of the Dark Side. I needed to call upon the help of a higher power, for the witch, McGonagall, would surely have my head if I presented her with a burnt cake.

To call upon the forces of good, I went outside and found the steepest cliff within miles of my oven. I whispered “Valar Morghulis” as I jumped off the cliff, but Falcor caught me on his back right before I splattered on the ground into a million muggle pieces. I told the luck dragon about my burnt cake dilemma, but he was on his way to help end a story that he thought, “would never fuckin’ end”. Falcor dropped me off with someone he thought could assist me: the Goblin King (AKA: David Bowie).

The Goblin King tried to entertain me with dance magic, while he played with a crystal ball, but this didn’t help with my problem. Just as I was starting to get really panicked about my imminent death, Eric Northman was in front of me holding the still-beating heart of the Goblin King.

After Eric consoled me with his sexy sex, he told me that if I held the Goblin King’s heart while chanting “Live long and prosper” I would not burn the cake again. With Eric’s wizard spell, I was able to successfully construct a chocolate cake for the she-wolf McGonagall. She was pleased with my offering and let me keep my life.

Check out the pun, bitches. Bitchy witches love puns.

Check out the pun, bitches. Bitchy witches love puns.

I will never forget what I learned during my epic journey, which can be summed up in one epic quote:

My favorite part of this movie was when Bill Compton put on the sorting hat.

My favorite part of this movie was when Bill Compton put on the sorting hat.

Epilogue

After Falcor finished off that really long story he came back to chill with me. However, he was soon summoned to take care of another problem: white walkers. Falcor and I slayed all of the white walkers, restored peace to the realm, and stole a super shiny ring from some hobo-like creature that referred to the ring as “my precious”. We pawned the ring for booze money and got wasted. It was the bestest day ever.

FYFI: Luck dragons need a fuckton of booze to get wasted.

This is the greatest work of Harry Potter fan-fiction ever. Tell your friends.

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Holy Fuck! Lollipops Have a Day of Their Own?

20 Jul

Candy is awesome, and food on a stick is totally tits. One magical day some awesome person declared, “Let’s put this shit on a stick!” That person was George Washington Carver. That dude made a lot of awesome shit.

To celebrate this shittacular day, I made some lollipops of my own. Writing words backwards is hard, but I figured out a way to do it. I’m a fuckin’ genius.

"REDRUM" backwards is "MURDER".

“REDRUM” backwards is “MURDER”.

Writing inappropriate words normally makes for a great afternoon, but writing them backwards is fuckin’ lame.

George Washington Carver would be proud of how far the lollipop has come since he invented it in 1989.

George Washington Carver would be proud of how far the lollipop has come since he invented it in 1989.

Pedo-Pops

I wanted to make a few extra special lollipops for a friend. She likes Rilakkuma, which is a cute bear with an improper past time. The literal translation of Rilakkuma from Japanese to English is “bear who fucks kids”. Seriously. “Kuma” means “bear” , and “rilak” means “sexual with children”. You are probably wondering why the Japanese have a word for such a strange creature. All creatures need a name, even sick, fucked-up creatures that shouldn’t exist.

I used a Pedo Bear candy mold to make some lollipops with the child-loving bear on it. These lollipops were immediately coined “Pedo-Pops” by another friend of mine. (If you are counting, this means that I have, at least, two friends: one who likes Pedo Bear and another who was so excited by the existence of Pedo-Pops she fizzed herself.)

These are about the size of a child's head. The perfect Pedo Bear size.

These are about the size of a child’s head. The perfect Pedo Bear size.

Learning is Fun!

This is actually Pedo Bear, and Rilakkuma means “relax bear”. It’s fun to fuck with people who like Rilakkuma, and say he is Pedo Bear. Also, stop believing everything you read on the Interwebs, twat.

One more thing: George Washington Carver probably didn’t invent the lollipop. However, I did use some peanut butter to make these, so he was with me in spirit when I was making Pedo-Pops.

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Pussy and Cakes: My Badass Life as a Baker

11 Jul

The Interwebs already loves cats and diabeetus. I happen to be in a great position to satisfy the needs of the Interwebs, since I enjoy baking and I have a few cats.

Here are a few things I’ve noticed about cats and baking:

1. Cats don’t give a flying fuck about baking. 

Unless you are making a cake composed of yarn, cat nip, and ribbons, cats couldn’t give any less fucks about baking.

This is Stinky, and she doesn't give a fuck about mini cupcakes.

This is Stinky, and she doesn’t give a fuck about mini cupcakes.

2. Cats are great at passing judgement on a horrible confection.

I tried to make some diabeetus-free fudge for my father, but it turned out to be super disgusting. It may have been the worst thing I’ve ever made. The cats were sure to let me know with disapproving stares, turned backs, and gazes that scream “WTF”.

All the cats came out to tell me that I'm a failure as a baker. I'm glad I always have their support.

All the cats came out to tell me I’m a failure as a baker. I’m glad I always have their support.

3. Cats will want your undying attention while you are baking.

Of course, as soon as you give them your attention they will immediately run off and take a nap. Cats are cunty like that.

Bear was trying to get my attention while I was making an ice cream cake, I told her to fuck off, and she retaliated.

Bear was trying to get my attention while I was making an ice cream cake, I told her to fuck off, and she retaliated.

4. Even through all their cuntiness, cats are inspirations to baking.

All that cunty behavior gets me in the mood to bake something fucktacularly creative.

Seriously, there is cat fur in everything I make.

Seriously, there is cat fur in everything I make.

5. Cats provide the secret ingredient willingly.

Everyone had a good laugh at the previous cake’s message, but there’s always a bit of truth in every good joke.

Too much fur in your cupcakes and everyone would catch on to their game. Cats are sly lil' fuckers. 

Too much fur in the cupcake and people would catch on to their game. Cats are sly, lil’ fuckers.

Side Note: I can very easily tell which cat’s fur I’ve  just pulled from my mouth. After I find the culprit, I walk over to the cat, present the fur to them, we knowingly smile at each other, and part ways.

Take Away Message for Fellow Bakers

If you are a baker, you better have a cat or four. If you don’t have a cat, your baking probably sucks.

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