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Tag Archives: Mail

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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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.

__________