What Can I Say, Except, "You're Welcome"?

I’ll be honest, minions: after all these years, I may still be slightly obsessed with Moana? The constant singing, the aggressive YOU'RE WELCOME-ing, the unrequited mooning over a cross-eyed rooster.

Yeah.

SLIGHTLY.

So check this out:

Brandy ordered this Moana cake for her 9-year old, and I think we can all agree it was a wise move. Not only because MOANA, but because it's a printed edible image. That means no guesswork! No drawing! No instructions to fowl up! (HEY HEY ROOSTER SHOUT-OUT)

And yet, as it turns out,

Every turn we take
Every trail we track
Every ordered cake
Every road leads back
to a place we know:

Specifically, the place where a baker insists this is exactly what you ordered and you should totally pay for it.

My thoughts exactly.

Thanks to Brandy L. for providing all the wreckage that's fit to print.

*****

P.S. See the line where the sky meets the sea? IT'S THIS CUTE WHALE DISH:

Whale Ceramic Butter Dish

D'awww. It calls me.
::singing:: And no one knooo-ows, how far it bloooo-ows.

Eh?

******

And from my other blog, Epbot:

The All-Male Wreck Review

[Note: Mildly risque jokes & images ahead. And one banana hammock.]

We all live in fear of an embarrassing photo popping up on Facebook, but it turns out there's an even WORSE place for those best-forgotten candids to turn up:

Your birthday cake.

(And, ok, yeah -  then on an internationally-known blog about bad cakes, but still.)

I used to think edible photos were the worst invention since the Steering Wheel Desk, but that was before I realized their true purpose:

Humiliating drunk guys who take their clothes off.

 Yep, edible images are the best thing to happen to passive-aggression since the Post-It note. How else can you get back at the guy who showed up early, drank all the Zima, and then passed out in your mom's favorite arm chair and peed himself?

Remember, revenge is a dish best served iced - and there is a lot of icing...IN CAKE.

I would comment on the misspellings, but it's hard to concentrate with big nipples staring you in the face.

Which I guess explains why employers block so much of the Internet at work, huh? 

(HEYO.)

 Of course, not all guys need alcohol to get a little frisky in front of the camera:

Must. Not. Make. "Horny." Joke...

And once you hit your ninety-something-th birthday, I know exactly what you want to see:

Not bad, not bad...but can we get some kind of a wild cat in here? And maybe a mullet?

Purrrfect.

I feel like we're straying off the drunken path, though. See, what we *really* need is something with a clown wig, a little Crisco, and a HUGE...

...oh. Rats.

Ok, never mind.

Thanks to Angie B., Kimberly E., Julie C., Christy M., Stacey H., Sarah T., Katherine M. & Aaron for the full Monte Crisco. It was delicious.

******

And from my other blog, Epbot: