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Tag Archives: Holidays

This Thanksgiving I’m Thankful for Dick (Cookies)

23 Nov

I’ve been making all sorts of new dishes, but it has been a while since I’ve decorated anything. The holiday season makes me feel all kinds of creative, especially with dick-shaped items.

The cookie blueprints are always the first step, as the ideas come to life when I draw them like a first-grader on paper.

Dick cookie blueprints are important shit. Also, that turkey is cute as fuck.

Dick cookie blueprints are important shit. Also, that turkey is cute as fuck.

After you have baked and cooled your cocks you can start decorating them.

If you need some help with baking and forming the penis cookies, see a few tips from previous posts:

As you can see, the holidays are a great time to make and distribute some fucktacular cockies (cock + cookies = cockies).

Decorating one cockie at a time is hard, so I usually do one color across all the cockies at once.

One shitty color at a time.

One shitty color at a time.

Then, add a couple more colors.

This shit is almost done!

This shit is almost done!

The fuckin’ guests have arrived!

All the mother fuckin' guests have arrived.

All the mother fuckin’ guests have arrived.

Here’s the artist’s (that’s me!) interpretation of the first Thanksgiving. Yes, I do imagine everyone as a dick. Yes, even you.

A pilgrim, a Native American, and a turkey have dinner together and nothing bled but their fuckin' hearts.

A pilgrim, a Native American, and a turkey have dinner together and nothing bled but their fuckin’ hearts.

There’s No Turkey On The Table. What The Fuck? 

For a long time I suffered like most ‘Muricans and ate turkey every Thanksgiving. I say “suffered” because I thought turkey tasted like shit, but I had to eat some or I couldn’t have any cookies. When I became an adult, I ate turkey because (1) everyone else did, (2) I didn’t want to hurt the cook’s feelings, and (3) I didn’t think much about the food I was putting in my mouth and where it came from. I rewarded myself with cookies before and after completion of this fowl task. (Get it? Fowl = foul! Yes, I hate myself a lil’ bit for that pun, and even more for explaining that shit.)

I gave up eating animals when I went vegan, but I honestly still did not care about birds like I do mammals. It is hard to shake a fuckin’ unfounded hatred of birds (or anything) when you’ve had it most of your life.

To try and break from my speciesist ways, I watch Interweb videos of animals I don’t like too much being cute as fuck. I found the following video of a woman who rescues a couple of turkeys every Thanksgiving.

I’m glad my HOA doesn’t allow for farm animals or I’d be two turkeys away from crazy town.

Well, I do have four cats, so I’m already in crazy town.

Fuck.

__________

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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.

 __________

Keep a Fuckin’ Resolution in 2014

2 Jan

Similar to a lot of people, I drank a lot last year on New Year’s Eve, which resulted in events on this cake. This year I resolved that the same thing would not happen, so I wrote it on a cookie cake and brought it with me to my party destination.

I was really hoping the party would be filled with familiar faces, so I could have puked in front of people I knew.

I was really hoping the party would be filled with familiar faces, so I could have puked in front of people I knew.

My favorite part of this cookie cake: The shittily overdone decorations.

FYFI: I started off trying to make this look genuinely fucktacular, but failed, obviously. The lesson: If you start decorating a cake without a plan your cake will probably look like a clumsy penisaurus rex decorated it. <INSERT JOKE ABOUT THE TIP. Because cake decorating involves tips and a cock has a tip. Get it?>

__________

Hey, cunts, check out some more cookie cakes I’ve made:

  1. Instructions to construct a dicktacular cookie cake that will give your friends diabeetus.
  2. Make a cookie cake for ‘MURICA!
  3. Divorced? Celebrate with a cookie cake.

__________

Happy Birthday ‘Murica!

4 Jul

Today is the birthday of the greatest nation on Earth: ‘Murica!

I made a cookie big enough to fuck up Lady Liberty’s blood glucose levels.

Ingredients

  • 2 giant cookies
  • 1 dash of fuckin’ justice
  • 4 1/2 teaspoons of misogyny
  • 3 asstons of Icing Good Enough to Make Your Dick Sneeze
  • 1 cup of liberty
  • 2 tablespoons of ethnocentrism
  • All the pride you can muster (which should be a fuckton, unless you are a foreigner)

Add all the ingredients together and you have the best fuckin’ birthday cake this nation, or any other nation, has ever laid eyes upon.

'Murica! Fuck Yeah!

‘Murica! Fuck Yeah!

I contemplated deep-frying the whole thing. Or topping it in deep-fried butter. Or both.

Instead, I just drew some butter and a Big Gulp in the eagle’s talons. Drawing the butter was easier than deep-frying butter or the whole cookie. I am an ‘Murican, therefore I am lazy.

Have some butter to wash down that giant soda.

Have some butter to wash down that giant soda.

Happy fuckin’ birthday, Murrica!

__________

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.”

Background

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?

Recipe

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!

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