My Other Blog

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

Adowable Widdle Wrecks

Sometimes I see cakes that are so undeniably Wrecky that I'm almost ashamed of myself for thinking they're cute. I'm not sure how such a thing is possible, either - are they flukes? Slips of the piping bags? The inevitable result of a million Wreckerators working on a million cupcakes? The world may never know. Or care.

Who's a cute widdle turd!?

Sure, it may look like a pile of poo on the banks of the Jungle Cruise*, but it's actually supposed to be a cat. Or maybe a lion. With a monkey tail. Regardless, see how the decorator compels us to overlook its blatant turdiness with his/her skillful application of eyes?

* Explanation for Non-Disney Geeks - See, the water on the Jungle Cruise ride at Disney is often dyed a shocking shade of blue-green. I think you have to be decontaminated if you fall in.**

**Follow-up from Jen: Puh-lease, "decontaminated"? It's just a little tetanus shot.

This next one makes use of the "two-cupcakes-drowning-in-icing-on-an-oversized-cakeboard" approach:

See? It's a cow. Or maybe ground beef. ("What do you call a cow with no legs, Alex?") Or Beef Stroganoff. ("A cow with noodles for legs?")

How can I tell it's a cow, and not a spotted dog with an awesome bouffant 'do sitting on a robot*? By reading the "moo" in the barren desert of cake board, that's how. [tapping temple] Skills. I gots 'em.

*Picture the nostrils as eyes for a minute - you'll see it. (Note: alcohol helps.)

Here's another one, fortified with rich, healthy irony:

An embarrassed skunk letting out a little toot, or a Wreckerator letting out a little workplace aggression? More importantly: which makes you hungrier?

Next is a real fluke; it's both the Wreckiest and the cutest cake for today:

A Wreckerator sets out to make a frog and ends up with a sloppy cross-eyed face with jowls, and yet it's still adorable? Now that's luck. (Dig the candle horns.)

And finally we have what appears to be a cross between a mutant rubber ducky and Angelina Jolie:

Sorry, sorry; I know that's kind of mean. I shouldn't malign rubber duckies like that.

Thanks to Wreckporters Tim, Megan, Kristi M., Leigh S., and Linden S.!

- Related Wreckage: Hello, Kitty?

TOUR REMINDER: Hey, Chicago! Come see Jen and John tonight at the Barnes & Noble in Skokie (the Old Orchard Cener) at 7:30PM. It'll be fun. Promise.


Sarcasm! Wow, That's ORIGINAL!

John (that's my husband, for you newbies) is an absolute master of sarcasm. This is not a good thing. Half the time even *I* can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not, which has led to more than one tiff around bathing suit season. ("Wow, your butt looks fantastic in that. No, really.")

I think the problem is he's too subtle. If you're going to be sarcastic, and you actually want people to know it, you have to give them some clue. You know, like this:

Is this person really glad you're "here"? No, of course not. Just look at the signs!

1) It's misspelled, thereby signifying "your" not worthy of spell check.

2) There is no exclamation point, since that might betray some small enthusiasm over the prospect of your presence. Can't have that, now, can we?

3) The gratuitous quotation marks positively reek of passive aggression. Visions of jilted dates and stranded little leaguers spring to mind.

All that, with only three little words! This baker is superb.

So, how can you, the consumer, incorporate a little sarcasm into your own cake orders? Here are a few handy tips:

1. Add quotation marks to everything you don't really mean.

"Quotation marks: allowing you to tell lies with a clear conscience since 1945."

2. Omit enthusiastic punctuation.

Just try to read this cake without sounding sarcastic. Yeah. Exactly.

3. Misspell their name. (Especially effective when combined with tip #1 or #2.)

Now this is what I like to call a "sarcasm score!" Present this at the after-game dinner and just watch all those mopey, dejected faces turn into bright red, angry ones in no time at all!

Mary Anne E., Angela M., Sarah C., & Janet R., you guys are absolutely "awesome."

- Related Wreckage: Say What?