Creepy Clowns vs Creepy Boobs: We Report, YOU DECIDE

Fun Fact: I can't stand horror movies, but I love - LOOOOVE - creepy cakes.

I'm not talking intentionally creepy stuff, like zombies or gore or "Baby Bump" cakes - no, I mean the ones that a baker finished, looked at, and thought, "Yeah, that's pretty cute."

I'm told this is some kind of clown.

I'm also told that a Hitler joke here will "get us in so much trouble are you freaking kidding me babe NOOOO." So never mind.

Kids can be creepy enough* as it is, bakers, so please, STOP HELPING:

[*True Story: One time John and I were meeting with a fan at a busy restaurant, and the table next to us parked their stroller - which had a beautiful little boy in it - right across from me. The toddler had ice blue eyes and a slack, deadpan expression, and proceeded to stare at me. The entire. Time. Then John and the reader left to get drinks, leaving me alone with Baby Demon Eyes, and I kept trying not to notice, but every time I glanced over he was STILL STARING, like he was trying to mind-control me into stealing everyone's souls and/or chocolate, and his parents were totally oblivious, and I started to freak out, and long story short, I only have a few dozen more hours of community service to go.]

Animal Safari Cake Claims Latest Victim:

Quick! Somebody throw the baby a rope! Unless he won't stop staring at you!

Speaking of staring:

Dang, Woody. You creepy.

But even that plastic menace is about to be eclipsed by the funky cake bazoongas of one not-quite-life-sized Dolly Parton cake:

I worry about her structural integrity, you guys. Like, she could topple over any second and smother you with her cakey fun bags. Which I guess is kind of like real life? Only more awkward, because in real life you probably wouldn't ever have to lick off Dolly Parton's boob smears, and wow did that go somewhere I didn't want to go fast.

[side eye]

[awkwardly sidles out of the room]

Thanks to Nisha T., Niki R., Paula, Tenley H., & Summer S., who agree we should all stop thinking about licking Dolly Parton's boobs now. Stop it. Stop it. STOP IT.

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A "Dreme" Come True

"Welcome back to round one of the National Wreck Bowl, folks. Our reigning champion, Pat Wüfflehausen, has filled his pastry bags and is ready to attempt a new world record.

"Greg, this is obviously a huge challenge for Wüffelshausen. What do you think he's feeling right now?

"Well, he ate the same lunch we did, Pete, so probably nauseous and constipated."

"Hey, I did warn you about those samosas, buddy. Aaaand here we go! Our champ is now in position. Looks like he's assessing the area...he's preparing to pipe...and...

"A-HA! Would you look at that? Right out of the gate, he has destroyed the first word!"

"Tell me, Greg, how many points would you say that misspelling is worth?"

"Oh, I have no idea."

"But if you had to take a shot in the dark?"

"Well, I'd probably spill it."

"No, no, I mean...Uh, tell you what, let's just move on to round two."

"YES!! Wüfflehausen just manages to knock out the second word! That was quite a close call, turning the 'I' into an 'E', don't you think, Greg?"

"Only when absolutely necessary, Pete."

"Haha, sounds good. Well, folks, this is it: the final round. And, uh-oh! Look what just got plunked down on the playing field!

"Greg, it's going to be pretty tough for Wüfflehausen to misspell "achieve" with that star stamp right next to him. Do you think he can pull it off?

"Well, sure! It's just a tiny plastic pick - probably doesn't weigh a thing."

"No, no, sorry, that was my fault there, Greg. I mean, do you think he can do it?"

"Do what?"

"Right, let's get back to the action! The crowd is hushed with anticipation, and you can almost feel the tension in the air, can't you, Greg?"

"Abso-lutely not!"

"And here we go...and, oh! Oh! It looks like he could...go...all..the...way!

"YES!! Do you believe in miracles?!?"

"Well, there was that time my mother-in-law fell down the stairs..."

"And that's a new World Record! To those of you at home, thanks for tuning in, and good night!"

Annie, I think I'd call this the "Hale Mary" of Wreckerating.

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