Don't Dip Your Junk in Chocolate

Let me tell you a little story about what could have been.

 

I may have mentioned this before in passing, but in case you didn't know, I love to bake. More specifically, I bake the shit out of cupcakes/cake-related products. 

Bonjour, Cupcake

When I first started this blog, it was supposed to be a baking blog. (I use the term ‘started’ loosely. In other words, I wrote maybe 2 posts last spring, and then they just sat lonely and untouched for months… kind of like me. Just kidding. Maybe.)  I was all geared up and enthused to write about my adventures in baking, including pictures of my triumphs and fails. Woohoo! Everyone loves a good baking blog, right!?

… But then it dawned on me: baking is fucking expensive.

I have always baked here and there, for special occasions or just for fun, but never on a regular basis. To keep a blog afloat, one needs to post often enough to keep readers coming back. I wasn’t prepared to start spending half of my paychecks on butter, sugar and chocolate, and I certainly wasn’t going to opt for cheaper, less awesome ingredients. So there my blog sat, shivering in its cold, dark corner of the blogosphere, with abandoned pictures of cakes and cookies.  My baking blog dream had come to an end and it was time for a drink. Or six. Or twelve…

I'm sorry, cake, but you never stood a chance.

After months of neglect, it occurred on me that cursing and random story telling was much more my speed and this badboy was born.

But, despite my inability to blog about what I bake, I still like to throw around the flour from time to time. I spend an embarrassing amount of time perfecting what I’ve baked, and in my more ambitious moments, have even considered making my own sprinkles and confetti for cakes. 

Gluing confetti to cake pops with corn syrup isn't as fun as you'd think it would be.

I take that shit seriously, yo.

Anyone who’s been in the kitchen with me while I’m baking can tell you that I don’t play nice. (That’s MY spatula! I’ll whisk how I WANT to whisk! Back the fuck off, motherfucker. I will dip MY balls* into MY chocolate. *stomps feet* ) They would also tell you that I get myself worked up into a tizzy when I think the final product won’t be the masterpiece I had envisioned… and that when things finally start falling into place, I get this crazed look in my eye and resemble one of those fanatical mothers from Toddlers & Tiaras. 

*I’m talking about cake balls, you sick fuck. 

There's something twinkling in those eyes... might just be drag queen glitter.

The trouble with baking is that although it’s super delish, it’s also very fattening. While some people may try to cater their baked goods to the more health-conscious crowd (See:  Mrs. Dingleblat’s Debbie-Downer treats), I refuse to demolish the whole institution of baking with applesauce substitutes. That’s just disgraceful.

Once I have finished baking, the next step is finding people to eat it.   I’ve come to learn that when you work in an office, people will eat just about anything when it’s free (even if it probably should have been introduced to Mr. Garbagecan upon exiting the oven). Last night, my girlfriend and I attempted to make soft pretzels. With a slight mis-measurement of the flour content (I’m not pointing any fingers…*cough*) they turned out extremely doughy. As a result, they had to stay in the oven far longer than intended, and the outside got… slightly overcooked. Nevertheless, I cut them up, threw them in a cookie tin and low and behold, they were gone in under an hour. (I know what you’re thinking… but people came back for second and third helpings. The ‘pretzels’ weren’t just eaten out of sympathy for my efforts. And screw you for thinking such things! I’m never making pretzels for you. Not even if you beg. Asshole.)

So, even though my blog became an unexpected slur of grand fuckery (which, by the way, I adore, thanks to my wonderful followers/commenters/friends), from time to time I may throw some baking into the mix. Ohhhhh a baking pun!! You’re welcome!! (I probably won’t actually ever blog about baking… but now I don’t want to delete that pun... Eff my life is *so* complicated sometimes.)

All of this is to say: this is not a baking blog…but it was supposed to be… but it’s not.

Yep.

 

There's Nothing Sexual About Hungry Hippos (or Justin Bieber)

Holy gluttony, batman.

The only real way I can justify my recent absenteeism is by explaining the quantity of food I have consumed over the past five days. I may as well have strapped a feeding bag to my face and called it a weekend.

I noticed an ongoing theme when it came to eating this holiday season. Never have I ever been encouraged to eat things quite so ...forcibly.  While I was  eating the odd sweet here and there, in moderation they might say, I came to learn (pretty quickly) that when it came to being offered goodies and treats, no one wanted to take no for an answer. “It’s Christmas!” would often be the dessert-pusher’s argument of choice.  It’s challenging to dispute this, as their point is both accurate and seasonably poignant.  More often than not, I found myself taking a second look at the tray of treats, then back at the tray holder, and ultimately my hand would make the reach to grab yet another buttery treat of delicious delight.

The worst thing is when you finally do give in, and you bite down on what you thought was chocolatey fudgey somethingdelishandmelty and it ends up being made with raisins, or dates, or minced meat. Who the fuck invited Mrs. Dingleblat to the party with her bowel-friendly treats for diabetics? They’re the worst.  My entire justification for having consumed something fatty has been flushed down the toilet… so to speak.

I made these candy cane red velvet cake balls... They're everything I look for in a dessert: chocolate and possible heart failure.

While I have done several non-eating related activities over the past few days, most of them involved a pre or post drink and/or meal. And the problem with overeating is that it stretches out your stomach and your appetite gets enormous. The constant chain of consumables over a five day stretch has left me hungrier than a dishonest kid’s hippo in a game of Hungry Hungry Hippos when the kid keeps tilting the board so all the marbles go in his hippo’s mouth. That’s how hungry I have been… Except for food, not marbles. Those things hurt my teeth.  That’s probably not the best analogy to have chosen… but I’m leaving it there because I love that game and it doesn’t get referenced enough.

On Christmas night I got so drunk on wine that I enthusiastically participated in a caroling session that Santa Claus himself would have chortled at.  You know it’s time to lay off the vino when you start adlibbing between verses and throwing in the Christina Aguilera/Mariah Carey oooOoooOooooos.

I can feel the Christmas album in my near future. Look out JBiebs, I’m about to deck yer halls. (Nothing sexual, guys. That’s just not cool.)

I think that’s a wrap for me.

Oh ho ho… see what I did there?  Christmas puns never get old.

Okay, they might get a little old. Let’s change the subject.

Did anybody get anything hilarious and/or amazing for the holidays?