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Tag Archives: Orange Tabby

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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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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