It's time again to plumb the depths of that most bizarre and inexplicable place:
The mind... OF A CAKE DECORATOR.
Buckle up, it's going to be a wrecky ride.
I can't decide if these are supposed to be teeth, eyeballs, or mini-marshmallows:
...but whatever they are, they are definitely bleeding out.
When you need to put on just enough fondant to call it a "fondant cake":
Not since the great Target Cookie Mountain of last June has something made me squint at my monitor this hard:
It looks like layers of canned whipped cream between sugar wafers? With Stay Puft knows what in the middle?
I left the label showing for all of you rushing out the door to go buy one. TRAITORS. Enjoy your soggy sugar wafers.
Look, there's no denying this next cake is lovely. The piping is exquisite, the writing is legible, and the pink fuzzy balls have never looked pinker or fuzzier:
But... why? WHYYYYYY
"OK, so we need it to look like a spinal cord, set inside stretched open skin, only make it with flowers."
[alien screeching and popping noises, followed by a loud hissing roar]
And finally, I probably shouldn't include this next one, because something about it screams "homemade" to me:
It could be the ripped-off doll's head. Or the store-bought candles. Or the actual screaming.
Anyway, if I ever make it to 113 or 114, please don't serve this.
I'll take the pink fuzzy balls instead.
Thanks to Jodee R., Joe V., Lisa W., Ann R., Rebekah R., Grace G., Kait C., & Missy D. for getting a head in the wreckage game.
And from my other blog, Epbot: