Wasted Cakes

If there's one thing I've learned from this blog, it's that there's a cake for everything. Vasectomies, divorces, fecal triumphs - bakeries come through where even Hallmark is left speechless. So for those of you reading this through squinted, blood-shot eyes, nursing a killer migraine, and wondering if God was actually paying attention to your 4AM porcelain-throne confessional this morning: cheer up; there's a cake for that.

Binky here is part of the new "scare 'em sober" line of cake kits. Nothing says "drink in moderation" quite like a deceased flattened clown with charred lumps for feet, right? "And that's why it's important to remember "stop, drop and roll" when doing flaming shots, boys and girls!"


Look familiar? I hope not; anyone who keeps a big mass of string cheese in their bathroom has serious hygiene issues. I'm glad the guy is labeled a "Party Animal", though: otherwise you might think this was celebrating the flu or food poisoning.

(Bonus Side Tangent Competition: Who can be the first to find me an actual cake celebrating the flu or food poisoning? C'mon; you know they're out there!)

And then there's Charlie, who shows us once and for all that you're never too old to party:

Charlie apparently likes to rock the Casbah with a couple of redskin potatoes shoved down the back of his pants. He also has a gargantuan toilet with a joystick on the seat, which he doesn't like to talk about.

[whispers] Shhh. He's sleeping. That pink shag rug and the smell of 2000 Flushes gets him every time. Aren't they just the cutest when they're dreaming?

(Yes, it's "professional". What, don't you trust me?)

Well, Happy New Year, everyone! Here's to a Wrecktastic 2009.

Thanks to Sarah N., and Stefani H.!