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

Entries in Beyond Bizarre (197)


Paper Reams

There are very, VERY few non-wrecky uses for edible photo paper, my friends. So if you're going to make your guests gum their way through all that ink and extra fiber, at least make sure it looks cool. 

You know, (not) like this:

I can just imagine the baker showing these off in his/her portfolio:

  "As you can see, I pioneered the 'wet blanket' decorating technique. I also specialize in printer jams and making your poop sparkle."


 Or this:

Granted, this doesn't look as much like edible paper as it does a thin plastic table cloth. Maybe it comes with a pair of scissors for serving? (Only let's hope the scissors come on the outside this time.)

And I love how they wrapped the (presumably) iced cake in "paper," then added more icing, and then topped it with (more?) plastic. It's like a Dagwood sandwich of choking hazards.


My favorite, though, is what Angela N. got when she ordered Avengers themed cupcakes from a national chain store bakery which I am *this* close to outing, because omigosh are you kidding me:




Thank you.


Thanks to Andrew C., Jaymie P., and Angela N. for actually making me look forward to the day when print is dead.


Bunny Poo Poo Wild

All those Easter cakes last week reminded me of something:

See, when John and I were young and idealistic, we briefly had a pet angora rabbit named George.

He looked almost, but not entirely, exactly unlike this.

 Like most rabbits, George had the intelligence of a box of sand, but there were some people - let's call them "liars" - who assured us that rabbits could be litter box trained.

Now, maybe it's semantics, but unless "litter box trained" means "nonstop pooping while hopping," then we never quite reached that point with George.

And during the few moments when George stopped pooping, we knew with certainty and dread that he was probably peeing:

Thanks, George.

On the plus side, George was an idiot, so he never took it to heart when we ran after his adorable little hopping, pooping, peeing self screaming obscenities.

[poop] "What?" [poop]


It wasn't long before we found another sucker loving home to take George, who bid us adieu with a blank-eyed leg kick and a final handful of poo pellets.

I like to think George and his new owner found every happiness together, and that he never drove the sweet little lady to bunny-cide by carrot:


Probably best not to ask what she did with the rest of his face.



Thanks to Ashby, Tiffany K., Kimberly L., Sadeye M., & Stefanie G. for the crappy hop down memory lane.