Tag Archives: Fudge

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.



Diabeetus-Free Fudge for my Father on Fudge Day

16 Jun

Say that shit three times fast: “Diabeetus-Free Fudge for my Father on Fudge Day. Diabeetus Fuck Fudge for my Father on Fuck Day. Diabeetus for my Father on the Day we Fudge. Fuck.”


Hey, it’s Fudge Day! We should all take a moment to think about all the fuckin’ amazing things fudge has done for us and all the wonderful times we’ve had. Let’s see….there was that stomach ache, well, lots of stomach aches, a fuckton of toothaches, followed by a couple of cavities, and finally diabeetus. Thanks, Fudge!

Wait… you are kind of a fuckstick, Fudge, but I forgive you because you are delicious.

Today also happens to be Father’s Day, which, I guess, is important too. My father loves fudge, so I decided to make him fudge for Fudge Day, err, I mean, Father’s Day.  Unfortunately, my father already has diabeetus, so I needed to make him some diabeetus-free fudge.

Impossible you say? If you want that diabeetus-free fudge to taste good the answer is: Yes, it is impossible. If you don’t care how the fudge tastes then the answer is: Sure, why the fuck not?


Here is the fudge recipe I picked out. This recipe wasn’t good at all, it barely resembled diabeetus-filled-fudge. I fizz for fudge. However, this shit made me want to eat something lame, like a vegetable or nothing, since I wasn’t hungry.

Veganize this shit: You could make this vegan, but it will taste horrible either way. I only posted this to document a fail, but I will have to make my own healthy-ish fudge one day. It will be vegan. And it will be amazing.

Usually as I am making cakes, cookies, or other confections, they look fuckin’ amazing throughout the whole process. However, as I was making this fudge, there was never a point in time that it ever appeared appetizing. I started off  melting some fuckin’ bricks of chocolate down to something resembling soggy manure or what you might find in a clogged toilet. After the chocolate was completely melted, I mixed some peanut butter into the mixture and it looked like the contents of a stinky baby’s diaper. Adding the peanuts did this mixture no favors.

There has never existed more unappetizing fudge before. 

There has never existed more unappetizing fudge before.

Because I stick with ideas until the bitter end, I still wanted to write something on this fudge (since that’s what I do). I used a sugar-free icing to write on the diabeetus-free fudge. It was also fuckin’ disgusting, so there’s no need to share the recipe.

Looks like a sick dick sneezed in my mixing bowl.

Looks like a sick dick sneezed in my mixing bowl.

Thoughts on this Confection

If you visit the page for this fudge recipe you will see that it got four stars. How in holy fuck did it get four stars?

Even after I refrigerated this fudge for hours, it never made it to a fudge-like consistency (e.g. it fell apart in my hand and some chocolate smeared on my fingers after only touching it for a few seconds). I guess, when you have diabeetus you have different standards for fudge. Wait….Fudge is supposed to be delicious. Sugar-free fudge must be just the beginning of a larger government conspiracy. Thanks, OBAMA!

I bet you are wondering how one man can do so much damage to, not only ‘Murrica, but also to such delicious treats. Well, there is more than one Obama, and obviously this is the work of Michelle. I get it, Michelle. Obesity is a big (in more ways than one) problem in ‘Murrica, but leave fudge out of this War on Obesity. You will abandon the Battle on Fudge, or you will have made a powerful enemy. (FYI: that powerful enemy is me, and I am crazy fuckin’ powerful. You have been warned.)

Final Product

Thanks, Obama!

Thanks, Obama!

I was going to mail this to my father, since he lives far away. However, since this fudge didn’t turn out like real, sturdy fudge, it was un-mail-able. The fudge would have arrived as a mass of shitty peanut chocolate.

Thanks, for the worst Fudge Day ever, Obama!

Fuck, I mean, worst Father’s Day ever!