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What's a Wreck?

A Cake Wreck is any cake that is unintentionally sad, silly, creepy, inappropriate - you name it. A Wreck is not necessarily a poorly-made cake; it's simply one I find funny, for any of a number of reasons. Anyone who has ever smeared frosting on a baked good has made a Wreck at one time or another, so I'm not here to vilify decorators: Cake Wrecks is just about finding the funny in unexpected, sugar-filled places.

Now, don't you have a photo you want to send me? ;)

- Jen
Friday
Aug102012

The Miracle of Birth, With a Side of Raspberry Jam

It all started with the first censored Cake Wreck:

Remember when I first posted this four years ago? How shocking it was back then?

Ahh, those were the days.

Unfortunately, wreckerators thought edible birth scenes were a BRILLIANT idea, and suddenly there were fondant babies popping out of raspberry jam-smeared vajay jays everywhere. And for some odd reason, I can't help but feel just a teensy bit responsible.

I am become death, the destroyer of wombs.

 

You might think the more cartoonish versions would be less traumatizing, but only if you've never seen the amount of pubic hair sprinkles that I have. Yeah, you heard me: PUBIC HAIR SPRINKLES. If I have to see it, the least you can do is imagine it.

Do you see the size of that censor box? DO YOU?

 Let's just say there are five people at that shower who will never eat chocolate sprinkles again.

 And the sixth will never kiss the top of her kids' heads again.

 You'll also note that the pubic hair sprinkles are shedding/spreading down mom's legs. You will note this, because I won't let you not note it, and also because I'm really enjoying typing "pubic hair sprinkles."

 

 Question: Where are this poor woman's arms?

And why does she have two pumpkins on her chest? And should we be happy the baby is smeared in white icing instead of raspberry jam? 

Which reminds me of a:

TRUE STORY I COULD NOT POSSIBLY MAKE UP: I've attended one birth in my life (beside my own, of course, but the view that time was terrible), and the baby was a "cheesecake baby." Nurses, feel free to explain that in the comments. Everyone else, good luck not remembering this the next time you're eating cheesecake.

 

I'd really hoped this kind of insanity was contained to just the U.S., but no.

I'm not sure what's coming out of that woman, but it looks like the volleyball head from Castaway floating in intestines. (The censor bar says, "You're welcome.")

 

And speaking of censor bars, this final cake was so explicit that it was actually impossible to make a censor bar large enough, so we've done the reverse: covered everything except a small circle. Even that is pretty graphic, though, so scroll with caution - and don't say I didn't warn you. ;)

 

 

 

 

You guys, I never thought I'd say this, but... I miss belly cakes.

 (You know it's bad when a C-section cake is less traumatizing, am I right?)

 

Thanks to Tessa L., Ginn, Christina T., Karen H., and Amanda N., and an extra big and bloody thanks to Laura of Mamma Jamma Cakes, the baker of the most explicitly realistic birth cake I've ever had the misfortune of seeing in all its uncensored glory.

Laura actually sent me the cake herself, explaining that even though she managed to gross herself out with it, she's still especially proud of the "skin tone and blemishes." If your morbid curiosity is compelling you to see the full, uncensored version - and I know it is - then you can see it HERE. (EXTREMELY NSFW. You have been warned!)

Thursday
Aug092012

Cut, Print, That's A Wrap!

If you thought yesterday's picture-of-a-cake-on-a-cake was bad, then wait'll you get a papery bite of these

These are printed leopard-print fingerprint cupcakes, which makes about as much sense as a leopard having fingerprints, leaving them on cupcakes, and someone wanting to eat them.

Also, printing your leopard-print fingerprints is for cheetahs. Just sayin'.

 

Maybe that's not wrecky enough for you, though.
Maybe this blog has left you cynical and jaded.
In which case, A) we should totally hang out, and B) how about this?

Take a moment. Take it allll in. 

("Why, Y? Why, why, why??")

 

You know, since edible images really are the cheaters' way out (yeah, I SAID IT) I don't think it's too much to ask for Lazy McLazersins to know which way is UP on their big ol' cheat sheet cakes:

"Oooh, what a feeling! When you're holding up the ceiling!"

 

And what about this one?

It's like the choose-your-own-adventure of cake decals!

 At first I thought the bakery was supposed to just circle the right numbers - or maybe you do that yourself with a Sharpie at home? - but the spacing and orientation is all wrong. Then I saw this one from another store, and I finally realized:  

...that sheet is meant to be cut up, so each number and phrase can be placed individually. But instead, bakeries are just cramming the entire master sheet on the cakes. 


The bakeries of America, everybody! Take a bow!

 

I'm not sure that's enough paper on our cakes, though. Really, bakers, don't you think you should be gift-wrapping the entire cake with the stuff?

Oh, you already are?

My bad.

 

Still, call me old-fashioned, but I think edible images should be used the way Wilton intended: to stick our friends' faces on male stripper torsos.

(If you want nightmares, just try to imagine it without the paper face.)

 Hey, at least the leopard print undies aren't printed!

 

Thanks to Jennifer T., Jessica C., Jennifer J., Heather D., Ashley M., Shelley T., & Carrie C. for reminding me of that time I got a paper cut on my tongue. Plus that other time I dreamed the gingerbread man from Shrek had abs and two nipple rings.