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have your cake and eat it

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It is a well documented fact that while The Queen has two birthdays a year and dogs have 7 birthdays a year (or however that works), I don’t have any birthdays at all. I gave them up in a bid to remain forever young and free of birthday remorse (a bit like buyer’s remorse but with more wrinkles) but I see it happen to others. To be honest I am just repulsed by the atrocity that is ‘the birthday cake’. There’s an old joke which theorises that birthday cake causes wrinkles; the more birthday cakes you eat, the older you become. You may laugh, but it’s solid logic and something the face cream purveyors would like to keep out of the public consciousness. An aversion to the aging process is not my only reason for bearing more than a disliking for the edible candle-topped treat, the reasons are many.
Most cakes are simply delicious, that is, they are simple and they are delicious. When I make a cake at home (HAHAHA oh god, I almost choked on my own kidneys from laughing then) when I buy a cake from the shop, I select one that has clearly been crafted to contain at least 80% cake, with a 20% allowance for filling, frosting, icing, kittens, whatever. This is the ideal ratio for a cake of such deliciousness that I want to buy it dinner and take it to the cinema to try getting its crumbs on my crotch in the back row. The birthday cake flouts this basic cakey ratio and instead, goes for outright style over substance abuse. The average birthday cake now bears little resemblance to a real cake. It is a grotesque beast of moist fondant sugar, containing more artificial colouring and sparkles than a chorus line, with a tiny dried out heart of crumbs. Statuesque it may be, cake it is not. Then there are the candles. I have nothing so much against candles, after all, every girl knows that candlelight is the most flattering glow there is, other than the post-coital variety. No, what it is about the blazing cake toppers is the method with which they are extinguished. Every time you blow from your mouth, lots of particles of spit and whatever else you keep in there (lunch, fag butts, loose change) comes spraying out to encase everything that lies in its path, in this case, the tasty treat you’re about to invite your nearest and dearest to share with you. Even porn films display a greater respect for hygiene and bodily fluids than the average birthday cake receives.
I think I’ll stick to the safe and healthy option and celebrate people’s birthdays by drinking my way through them .............far from mists of spittle.
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  1. SpoiledBrat's Avatar
    Yet another thing we have in common - we both bake cake in the exact same way

    Wonderfully entertaining as always PVT. :)
  2. CoolHeat's Avatar
    Jesus!..You two certainly have the cake experience down pat..dont you?

    Pvt..If Im anywhere near your place..Im gonna search your attic for a portrait..just to make sure your "cake and wrinkles" formula...isnt just all "mouth"...ya know?

    Funny as always
  3. SirGary's Avatar
    Twice in my life, my birthday came and went without even me noticing. The cake was, for those birthdays that were noticed, the easy part. I blew out the raging fire that was dripping wax on the frosting, thus spreading whatever contagious germs I had the spare, and shared a piece to all the people who brought presents of trinkets which I neither wanted or could use, instead of the case of alcohol which I dearly wanted.

    I am male so wrinkles are of no concern to me. If a cake causes them, them I must of sleep wakes a gaggle of times, roofing down cakes beyond imagination, because my wrinkles now have wrinkles.

    I envy my body because it has kept up with the time that has past during my lifetime. My mind, however, stopped maturing in my mid-twenties and never progressed any further.

    Recently, I hit on a, let's just say a very much younger woman, who promptly called me an old perv...I quickly apologized explaining I thought she was much older because she acted very mature and worldly, she instantly changed her tune and, I should add, made me some very tasty omelettes the next morning..

    Age is just a thing...a hangup for some, nothing but a thang for others...

    ...but I have to agree with PvtDancer....there is definitely something evil going on in the cake...
  4. Siren_Song's Avatar
    I have solved the birthday cake dilemma, and as a result my wrinkles have been in remission for years.
    I like birthday pie.
    I figure if one has to get crusty, then one should do it with lard and a fruity goodness.
    People are largely stumped when it come to pie Toppers opting for a single token candle as opposed to the conflagration of flaming wax a cake begs.
    The single candle, symbolic of my natal day, also does not give away my aging body with requests to yet prove lung capacity.
    If I have to do cake, because some dear friend insists on providing one, then I request Boston Cream Pie.
    That way well wishers are sated, and my resolve to have birthday pie is not forsaken.
    Of course, I am with you as to washing it all down with some tasty libation. Starting with a bottle of bubbly. I try drinking to my health in a day long celebration. On low attendance years, I call folks up and toast my self over the phone with them. That way no one can accuse me of having a drinking problem... well they can, but it's a birthday so out of courtesy they don't.
    So when you visit me, we will have birthday pie. It won't matter what day, and if you think Monday was not a good day we'll just work our way down the week until you find one a day and a pie you like.
    Trust me, you will never skip a birthday again...