The Words Get in the Way

My friends, there's an epidemic sweeping our nation's bakeries that I think you should know about: SPATIAL AWARENESS DISORDER.

And believe me, it's SAD.

It starts innocently enough.

First you might notice a few odd gaps in their writing:


Then they run out of room:

Then they decide to just keep going:

The next thing you know, the bakery's sense of scale is swinging wildly from one extreme to another, ranging from the microscopic:

To the titanic:

"We had to bake three more cakes to fit it all in, but we made it!"

Occasionally a wreckerator might recognize that s/he's made a mistake:

Thereby making it worse.

In its final stages, the SAD affect can get doubly bizarre:

Bakers lose all sense of gravity, distance, and direction...

...and even more disturbing: appropriate word placement.

To this day, Nanny still can't look the mall Santa in the eye.

Thanks to Chris S., Rebecca M., Marina C., Rachel P., Cindy E., Marc, Trish M., & Alison for finally exposing the third rail of cake decorating.

No Accounting For Taste

Hey, did you know that the income tax deadline here in the U.S. has been pushed back 'til Monday?

(I'll pause here to allow those of you whooping for joy to catch your breath.)

Well, if you're like me, this means you might want to get started on your taxes sometime today, or this weekend, or maybe even Monday morning. After all, as a wise man once said, "[remember to insert procrastination quote before post goes up]!"

So, in our eternal quest to help you readers in the most sincere way possible using funny cakes, here is a complete, comprehensive guide for doing your taxes.

Step 1. Mix 2 ounces ea. of vodka, tequila, rum and gin - with a splash of Coke - and drink immediately.

Repeat until thoroughly snockered.
(Note: if a poo-shaped fountain explodes from drink, you're doing it right)

Step 2. Pull shoebox of receipts from laundry hamper and take wild guess as to how much you spent last year.

(Be sure to deduct the sale price of those "Guccis.")

Now add a zero.

This is your Adjusted Gross Expenditure Allowance Total Income Bracket, Article 1. Write this number down somewhere. Preferably on something that won't run off.

Step 3. Calculate the number of dependents in your household.

This can include children, imaginary friends, other people's children, other people's imaginary friends' children, pets, favorite CDs, and certain plants. Refer to Article J, Paragraph 42, Section 3.14159 on "Ficus Financials," for more information.


Step 4. Write down all information in a legible manner:

If you're not sure about one of your figures, just put it in quotes:

This shows the IRS you're just "guess-timating." They're totally cool with that.

Step 5. Go to the nearest ATM and empty your checking account, savings account, and pockets. This is what you owe.

It's always a good idea to send your payment in cash, and stuck to a cupcake. The IRS enjoys playful pranks like this, and will doubtless credit your account several hundred dollars in exchange for the laugh.

Well, we hope you've enjoyed our comprehensive tax guide. Now, if you need us, we'll just be vacationing somewhere you've never heard of outside U.S. jurisdiction.

A big thanks to Jacob L., Kelli, Anne B., Heather, Emily and Becky L., for their taxing treats.

Babel Fish Needed

You know that optical illusion that looks like an old woman one way, and a young girl the other?

Well, this cake is almost, but not quite, entirely unlike that.

So far I've assembled a list of 42 different words that this might be, including "@Loehoe," "Soekuc,"and "Slartibartfast." And yes, so far as I know, this is supposed to be "English."

Anyway, I've given up.

In fact, I can't help but be impressed by this individual's cryptography skills. Hey NSA, I've got your next Enigma machine right here! Think about it: for the cost of a piping bag and some chocolate, you'll never have to fear Wikileaks again. Eh?

So long, Jackie W., and thanks for all the fish.


Achtung!!! Es tut mir leid; Ich bin eine Sachertorte! Fahrvergnügen! Neenër neenër!

Bake a Cake, Diss A Vow

Words are a vital part of the wedding ceremony. With them you promise to love and cherish one another, declare your commitment publicly, and tell Uncle Randall to ease up on the Jägerbombs. Or at least stop dancing.

So, it's no wonder that some couples want to incorporate words on their wedding cake. And it's also no wonder - at least to me, heh - when those words spell disaster.

Or misspell it, as the case may be.

Note that the baker used the classic Wilton letter press on the first tier, but then gave up and free-handed the rest. And how "forword" is misspelled. And that "for worse" is left off. Now note the spacing. And the colors. And the...oh, are you ready to move on?


I'm told one or two of those words are misspelled, but frankly I was too distracted by the heaps of soggy seaweed to notice. Maybe that's the point?

No. Just...no.


Jessica wanted the writing on her cake to match the font of their invitations, so she brought in this handy reference picture:

She also asked that the roses be made of icing.


Drum roll, please!

I especially like the roses. Classy.

I think this one's my favorite, though:

Give it a minute.

Let it all sink in. Or line up. Or whatever.

Now, at first I thought the baker had stacked these in the wrong order, since it kind of looks like the top tier connects with the bottom one. When I saw the back, though, I realized:

I actually have no idea what is going on with this cake.


And finally, a tip for all your wedding wreckage:

The uglier it is, the more you should emphasize the word "beautiful."

Perfect.

Thanks to our wedding wreckporters Leslie F., Meagan R., Joe D., Jessica S., Angela C., & HickBride, who are all da bomb. But not Jägerbombs. 'Cuz that'd be weird.

D-Scripted

It's National Handwriting Day! That's right, it's time again to take a moment to appreciate the handcrafted artistry that is personal penmanship.

Or...not.

Hey, three 'P's for effort!

Hmmm. Ok, so maybe you Wreckerators could use a few tips. Nothing major, of course; just a few simple techniques that even a trained possum could perform to make your piped penmanship a ptad prettier. (Of course, pastry possums are hard to come by these days, so you'll just have to do.)

- Try, try again.

If your first attempt is less than stellar, just go over it again with a darker color.

Of course, only go over those areas that really need it.

- Turn it around.

Everything looks neater upside down.

- Hide it.

Using an identical background color will effectively camouflage any snafoo.

- Keep 'em guessing.

Is that thing a butterfly, a flower, a shamrock, or something else entirely? Who knows? The important thing is your clients will be too preoccupied guessing to notice your wrecked up writing.


- Move to an earthquake-prone region.

This provides handy excuses in a pinch.

And finally,

- Quit while you're ahead.

Or just quit, as the case may be.

Thanks to Andrea B., Raymond P., Megan R., Tanya R., Jessica, Westly W., Kelley B., Zachary S., and Julie B., who know that quitting is the better part of valor. Or something.