And eat it too

Been noticing America’s widespread love affair with cake? Seems like every couple of weeks a new television show about cake decorating appears, or a new cake blog or book comes out. And have you checked out the cake decorating section of your grocery store lately? (okay, me neither) In any case, cake is riding the fad tide, hanging out with the popular crowd and loving every minute of it.

However, there are still those of us living our lives largely without the involvement or assistance of cake; our face time with this dessert is usually and purposefully limited to one or two occurrences per year. I’m firmly in the “who’s eating all this cake?” camp, unable to comprehend the hoopla and frenzy. On the rare occasions that I make a cake at home, if both circles line up properly that’s a big deal. If there ends up being enough icing to cover all the cake without any show-through I’ve hit the heights. Didn’t your mom tell you not to play with your food? I just can’t get into this as an activity, but I don’t want to seem cake-uncool.

My way of coming to terms with this development: cake kits! They give me what my cakes lack: dimension, color, motion, and the appearance of being inedible. Then everyone’s happy. Meanwhile, I’m participating in a fad, and therefore vicariously acquire a sense of validation that often lasts for hours.

Best of all, now there are masculine-themed cake kits, because this craze isn’t just for the ladies.


















Here’s a perfect example. This Indiana Jones cake topper kit really makes my mouth water. And if I hit a lever, that big round boulder will roll across the cake! How cake-tastic can you get? Men love this.

















They also like the deer hunter cake kit, largely because they get to keep the plastic dolls. Er, action figures.












For that very special someone, we offer the Spiderman Classic Spin and Kick. You get a button to push (remotely!), which makes Spiderman whirl around the building, often with enough speed to blow out birthday candles. The manufacturer has even thrown in some “sugar srinkles,” which really set off any cake. It’s great to be alive during times like this!

Parts is parts

I’m heaving a massive sigh of relief, emphasis on the heaving, after spending a long weekend with my crazy, cat-loving Great-Aunt Gertrude. So glad we do this only once a year! Trudi, as she’s called by her closest personal friends (i.e. what she calls herself) is a kind and gentle soul, an animal lover and only child who tells hilarious stories about her childhood, wears dramatically mis-applied make-up, and can make even the dullest of events memorable, but not always in a good way. Her love for animals doesn’t diminish her craving for their flesh, which has led to some meals that I’ll simply refer to as unfortunate and regretful as I try to re-introduce real food to my system.

See, the problem is, the older Gertrude gets, the stranger her meat-replacements are becoming. On our first evening together she proudly set down what appeared to be a cheese-topped casserole. I hoped it was macaroni, and bravely took a bite. The texture, the flavor, the immediate unwillingness to swallow—I couldn’t even wait until she turned her head to make use of my napkin. “What are we eating?” I gasped, reaching for a water glass.


















“Tender bits,” she said brightly.

“Of what?” I asked, then quickly said, “Never mind!” because I truly didn’t want to know, remembering where I was. And when I saw the can in the garbage as I was helping clean up, I pushed it down as far as possible so as to resist the temptation to read the ingredient list.

On the second night things seemed initially more promising. Dinner seemed to consist of some breaded meat patties, mashed potatoes, and a vegetable. But this was clearly impossible; if you knew Gertrude, you’d realize that she’d never eat anything so pedestrian. I started picking at my potatoes and vegetable, hoping for the best. “Don’t forget to finish your choplets, or you won’t get dessert,” Trudi said curtly. “Clean plate club.”


















But I refrained from club membership and didn’t get any tofu pie that night. Aww.

For our final meal together I begged her to let me take her to a restaurant. “My treat!” I said, hungrily, unable to face another canned meat substitute. “Anywhere you like!” But she wanted none of it; she’d planned something special and couldn’t be dissuaded.

She spent the afternoon in the kitchen, humming loudly amidst the sound of the electric can opener, ignoring the smoke alarm’s repeated bleats. Later she came out of the kitchen a little unsteadily, bearing a large, steaming platter. All her cats came near the table and meowed demandingly. I kept trying to slip them parts of my meal under the table, but Trudi got all hawk-eyed on me and finally said, “If you don’t want the hostess cuts, fine, but don’t give it to the cats. It gives them the runs.”

Turns out I didn’t want the hostess cuts. In fact, I spent about an hour afterwards in the bathroom trying to brush that hostess cut flavor out of my mouth, while Gertrude prepared me a little doggie bag of leftovers to bring home to better half, along with her love. Even the raccoons won’t touch it.

You can look, but you better not touch

Now that Thanksgiving’s over we’ve all taken the dreaded plunge into holiday season, which means the seasonable, yet unreasonable, requests have already been pouring in. Could I bring something to the office party, the church bake sale, the kids’ celebration at school, the “get over here and buy a candle” event that my boss forces us all to attend, the neighborhood pot-luck, and the get-together my reading club thinks I’ll be attending? Absolutely not – what do I look like, Suzy Homemaker over here? Aren’t I going to have enough hassle just getting a few basic decorations in place and maybe a present or two purchased for immediate family members without also having to feed the hungry holiday crowd? Besides, I’m kind of in an enforced period of cutting back on pretty much everything, which means providing party trays and large amounts of sweets and baked goods just isn’t going to be feasible.

However, since I like to at least appear to be participating, I purchased a few party trays featuring incredible inedibles. As I rush in with my (chilled and Saran-wrapped) plates, I’ll look like I was busily cutting cheese and vegetables, and folding meat with the best of ‘em. Then I’ll beat a hasty retreat, hoping no one really noticed who brought what, because these trays don’t contain real food. The good thing is, they’re expensive and realistic, so with a little dusting off I should be able to pawn these off on well-meaning holiday party attendees for years to come; I’m considering them investment pieces. And, as is the case with my foody erasers, I fully expect to find teeth marks on at least one or two items, which I shall chisel off before next year.

This can be opened

I wuz ridin’ home
Just a-mindin’ my own
When a gol’ darn fool
Almost made me eat chrome.
But, bein’ a man
I just opened me a can
Of Whoop Ass Peanuts
‘Twas the end of his sedan.

(insert cowboy-like theme song and product logo here)

Wonder of wonders

I’m practically beside myself with excitement, because today I learned about miracle fruit. It turns sour to sweet! “Lemons become lemonade!” trumpets the ad copy, then whispers, “Sound too good to be true? An internet search will confirm that this is for real.” Lo and behold, they’re telling the truth! Wikipedia even informs us that the fruit may work by distorting the shape of sweetness receptors on our tongues…for up to 60 minutes! This is going to be life-altering. I can’t believe no one ever told me about these beneficent berries.

What size is your life?

I’ve got a paternal birthday looming, and I think my dad’s amply worthy of this gift basket...well, more of a gift bucket, isn’t it? This one’s for the “living large dad,” and I’d say my dad is living about as large as he can these days. Included: a special “proformance” drink, which I believe may be the product with the Jim Beam label in this picture. There’s also some junk food, and man-gear in one of its most popular varietals (BBQ equipment). Everything’s been lovingly hand-arranged in a manner appreciated by those enjoying super-sized living, but you probably already knew that, eh, big guy?

Up to here

I’ve ushered a new era into my life, and it feels good. After decades of putting up, it was time to do something about all the blowhards, phonies, hypocrites, liars and the horses they rode in on. Got myself a universal bullshit detector watch and I’ve been using it with abandon. There’s a special button on the side; push it and the watch goes about its detecting…and (no surprise here) nine out of ten individuals encountered will tend to be spouting at least a mild yet steady stream of bullshit. And they don’t like being called out by a watch, let me tell you! The indignant looks and responses aren’t for the faint-hearted. I’ve almost had my face slapped by one particularly bullshit-laden individual.

When they get all snotty and haughty, I offer them one of my You Smell Like Bullsht mints before walking away. The truth might hurt, but at least I’ve candy coated it.

Tidings of comfort and almond joy

The edible Christmas ornament holiday favor napkin ring has astounded us with its multi-tasking skills. This clever bloom is capable of being fully functional throughout a Christmas party, unlike most of your guests. First it’s hanging on the tree, coordinating beautifully with the other ornaments. Then it’s on the table, keeping the elaborately folded napkins in place with an elegant floral accent. And when everyone’s done with the meal they can break open its petals to find five succulent yet unexpected jordan almonds waiting to be savored. (The flowers are assembled upon order, so you’ll never end up with stale candy swept from movie house floors or left over from badly catered events.) At evening’s end be sure to remind your guests to take their depleted decorations home with them as favors. It’s fabulous to see a product giving of itself so fully during this special time of year.

Get me to the church on time

He’s not here! In fact, I think he’s out playing golf with some of his buddies, and screwing up the best and most important day in my life. 99% of my energy for the past six months has gone into organizing this wedding and daydreaming about what it’s going to be like, and let me tell you what: standing here next to these giant balls isn’t the way it was supposed to go at all. I am one exasperated bride.


















But if I have to take things into my own hands, I will, buster. This is my special day, and no one’s going to take that away from me. If you value your health, you’ll stand up like a man right now, and get in that church so I can walk down the aisle properly. Don’t make me drag you, because I’ll do it.

And after the reception, I plan on giving you the ass-kicking of a lifetime. Do not exasperate a bride!

Partner, let me upgrade you

There are upgrades and then there are upgrades. The 3-day 2-person food & water upgrade allows you to boost a three-day survival kit, yielding a total of six days of survival. This is a much better concept than purchasing two of the original three-day kits; enhancement invariably trumps more of the same. And who wouldn’t want to survive those extra days? You know you’d be extremely pleased and grateful if, in a disaster situation, your companion whipped this out. So pretend you’re the thoughtful one for a change and order now. One of these days you’ll be elated that you upgraded.

I don't really like talking about my flair

Infants are extra-large these days, like just about everyone else, and you can inflict some major damage to yourself trying to get one of them fed or bathed. Occasions like these call for some assistance, which is readily provided by the Boon Flair Pedestal High Chair. Equipped with a pneumatic lift, it will allow you to continue over-feeding that child even if he or she is already too heavy for your spindly arms. And don’t worry that there’s a 50 pound weight limit, because at that point your child can choose from a wide variety of other pneumatic lift chairs and devices, which are predicted to grow in popularity along with the population. The possibilities are limitless, but will probably include car seats, toilets, beds, and shoe horns. Pneumatics: because you’re never too young for childhood obesity.

Making a list

Get out your long checklist of holiday preparations, because now that it’s December you’re already running slightly behind schedule, and there’s so much to do before the 25th. We’re about to enter that wonderful time of year when our focus becomes even more consumer-oriented than usual…we become slightly short of breath just thinking about it. In order to keep oneself relatively sane and solvent during this intense period, list-keeping is a must. And that’s just the first step. Just think of all the things you need to get done in the next few weeks and try not to cry.

We usually find that even a brief span of time spent on holiday planning and list-making coincidentally coincides with the annual emergence of our

edible candy cane shot glasses. A sip here, a sip there, and the list almost appears to fill itself out. Hours later, bottle emptied and chore completed, the glasses deliver a satisfying minty crunch, and we’re as ready as we can be to usher in another holiday season. If you can’t read the last few entries on the list the following day, just cross them out, because making a to-do list shorter lightens the load, which will give you more time to acquire that holiday spirit everyone's always talking about.

Meat me

The tanky meaty gives, and then gives some more. It’s eight solid ounces of knucklebone packaged in a lovely keepsake bushel basket. There is nothing like ripping into a cuppa beef knuckle; ask your dog, who will assure you that this is one of very few irrefutable truths.

The only drawback, as you may or may not know, is that meaty treats slathered with faux-barbecue sheen (delicious as it may be) leave some major stains on the carpets and rugs. If you care about things like that and still want to get a little something special for yourself or your dog, go au naturel with

porky jerky pumpers. They may appear to be the same color, but this is a natural color, and will stain only the inside of one’s mouth and intestines. This is a real pork heart…tastiness incarnate. Just look at all those tempting flavor-filled nooks and crannies. As much as dogs enjoy tanky meaty, almost nothing gets them going like the seductive scrumptiousness of porky jerky pumpers. You’ll see.

Top choice

This is the premium selection, the best of the best, that which stands apart from the crowd and is truly peerless. We guarantee you’ll enjoy it and the warm glow of self-satisfaction that comes from knowing you’ve looked through all the options and culled something unquestionably superior. Make a premium selection today and you won’t regret it tomorrow. We’re not talking about meat.

We're all wasted

Expand your carbon footprint by purchasing a cup holder for your juice box, bag or can, which was already doing a relatively okay job of containing that corn syrup and dye. It even comes with an extra straw, which you can insert inside the straw that came with the juice container for even more landfill points. When you’re finished, throw everything away. You probably also use paper plates, wastrel. How about avoiding the middleman and just pouring some juice in a cup? Or, conversely, try going somewhere without a beverage in hand. Just once.

Salt of the earth and then some

Remember when everyone’s kitchen had the blue Morton salt container with the umbrella girl, and salt was just salt? Me, too, but salt hired a really good P.R. team and within the past few years it’s done a condimendible transformation. Every cook recommends a different salt and turns up his or her nose at all the other sub-standard salts, whereas some of us in the tastebud-deprived category feel bewildered and left out, unable to distinguish between the salt hierarchy. Never admit that you might belong to this group.

With chardonnay smoked fleur de sel, you’ll taste and feel the difference. The salt is smoked over oak barrels formerly used to age wine, imparting a flavor so refined, so superior to anything you thought salt could be, it must be tasted to be believed. It’s absolutely…saline.

Keeping up with the Joneses now involves being vaguely snobby about pretty much everything, not just the big ticket consumer items, so get with the program and make sure you’ve got superior salt before the neighbors start talking.

Finally, truth in advertising

Telling the truth is probably what makes this product so wildly popular. Also, many people enjoy products that come in pellet-dispensers. Lycopodium Clavatum = “bloated abdomen improved by passing gas.” If anyone out there knows of a better method of improving bloated abdomen (a method that doesn’t involve taking some kind of pre-meal gas-minimizer, or being in any way responsible or practical about what to ingest), I’m all ears. In fact, everyone's listening once you’ve taken your Lycopodium Clavatum.

Until mine shows up I guess I’ll have to resort to improving my bloated abdomen by passing gas without any homeopathic assistance. Good thing I’ve pretty much got the hang of it by now.

Stick-to-it-iveness

Fruit Stickles Tropical Flavored Skewers allow you to add tropical flavor to anything you opt to stick them into, presumably fruit, although we beg you not to limit yourself in any way. Tropical combines well with many other flavors, such as natural, ocean, and “not cat box.” Made of natural ingredients and tocopherols, they contain no calories, but loads of flavor. Also wood, one assumes. Mostly wood.

Their companion, Seasoned Skewers, flavors meat from the inside out, and is available in irresistible combinations such as Honey Bourbon and Mexican Fiesta. Marinating meat is like giving it a cold, flavorful bath, but nothing adds flavor the way puncturing, piercing, pricking, perforating and penetrating all the way to the core does. These skewers are 100% natural, largely because they’re made of wood with some spice on it.

Coming soon, before the end of the year, there will also be flavored sticks for your coffee, tea and cocktails, called Minglirs.

I like to think of all of them as oversized flavored toothpicks, allowing me to combine the sensory pleasures of food consumption with the dental benefits of tooth-picking (and wood gnawing). And since they’re all natural and fat-free, there’s no guilt involved. In the morning, I’m a stickler for Fruit Stickles (with pickles). Later in the day, there’s nothing truer than a Seasoned Skewer to make me a chewer (with a small shot of Dewar’s). And before bedtime, make me a tingler by handing me a Minglir (and maybe some Pringles). You are what you eat, and I’m feeling good with all this wood.

Make it go away

A li’l fast food eraser set! Don’t you want to pick up each item?, because I sure do. I also want to try erasing something with a burger or a hot dog. (or that yummy-looking sponge, tomato and algae sandwich—what fast food item is that supposed to be?) If you buy these, you won’t let people use ‘em, not even yourself. You’ll put the tray of erasers somewhere prominent on your desk, probably at work, and enjoy when others exclaim about the cute little fries and pretend to sip the cola.

Try to notice which co-worker seems most drawn to them, because one day you’ll come back from your lunch break and find teeth marks on that straw, possibly even a bite taken out of the hot dog or the burger (bet they leave the yellow sandwich alone, though). Some people are weird that way. If something looks like food, they’re incapable of resisting the urge to take a bite. I’ve seen it happen countless times with food-shaped candles, food-themed jigsaw puzzles and bowls of wax fruit. Once you’ve identified the guilty party you can have hours of workplace fun, tempting this person with other fake food disguised as erasers, such as the















dessert eraser set. Mighty tempting! There are many other desserts available, including cupcakes and ice cream bars. Or how about












the banana eraser, for the health conscious? In fact, there’s a whole bevy of fruit erasers:




Irresistible, for the most part. The peach is really drawing me in, unlike what I’m assuming must be a kiwi (but is actually a cantaloupe), although wouldn’t it be nice if fruit came with handles?

Another option that’s always well-received by those with a more dignified palate: Dim Sum erasers, sure to be riddled with teeth marks by the end of the work day. Too bad these erasers don’t come with a scratch-n-sniff feature.

Now that's service!

I had an eye-opening experience the other day when I went shopping for a silver wedding anniversary present. In fact, it’s a good thing the couple I was shopping for has been married only sixteen years, because I might need a while to make this decision.

I went to a store (a silver store) and approached the saleslady confidently, saying I wanted a “silver server.” She said, “For what type of food?”

“Does it matter?” I responded. I’d been picturing something like a fancy cake-slicer or maybe a large, embellished spoon. The woman behind the counter strained to reign in her disapproval of my ignorance.

“See, with silver, the food makes a difference,” she explained, talking as if I were a child. “Do you want a fruit or vegetable server?” She then whipped out:

the ornately confusing asparagus server

the oh-so-tempting pea server, with its sweet countenance and just the right amount of shallow depth















the “I’m not sure this’ll work” tomato server

the intriguingly bent-edged cranberry server (I tried to picture cranberries rolling from this little shelf, not sure why it was distinguished in this way from the tomato server, but afraid to reveal even more of my stupidity).

I said no, I didn’t think I wanted any of those, as attractive as they were.

“A pasta server, maybe?” she suggested, opening another display case. I was ready for something resembling the black plastic device I use as a pasta server:

a nice, all-around basic, but most people have one of these, don’t they?

yet I was somehow unprepared for

the no-nonsense utility of the lasagna server, which looked suspiciously like a spatula, but I held my tongue

or the unexpected asymmetrical beauty of the macaroni server, although it looked like it might rough up the macaroni, or expect too much attention

or the pleasing appropriateness of the shell server. I was seriously thinking about buying this one, about ready to leave.

But she wasn’t finished.

“Something from the sea?” she asked, cradling

the sardine server, which I found very pleasing to look at, but how often does anyone serve sardines? So I passed on it as well.

Her impatience was growing, but her list of silver serving devices was still quite large. Eventually we returned to the idea of fruits and vegetables, having exhausted many other options. And I think I’ve settled on this little beauty:

The scalloped potato server. But I didn’t buy it yet. I still need to see about 20 other selections, according to my saleslady, and the store was closing by this time, so I’m still undecided.