Hey, THEY Said It, Not Me

Calling all "Qualified" Cake "Decorators"!

Er...

Sure, it's a tough job, but someone's gotta poo it.

Though it does require you give a flying crap:

And be a regular person:

You know, no weirdos.

If that's you, then this job could be yours in a pinch!

A heaping pile o' fun!

Just remember to go with the flow:

But(t) not that much.

(Ooh, looks like the bride finally managed to get... a turd in edgewise.)
(AH THANK YOU, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.)

And thanks also to Anneke D., Patricia S., Amy K., Firas, Gail W., Cheyenne B., & Britani O. for passing on... the excitement.

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Scout It Out

I was an honorary cub scout around age 6, because A) my brother was an actual cub scout, B) our mom was troop leader, and C) we didn't have a babysitter. My only clear memory of that time was making salt dough pretzels with the boys, though, which tasted terrible. The pretzels, I mean. I didn't taste the WHOA THIS GOT DIRTY FAST.

Er, my point is, I don't remember cake at any of our troop meetings, but maybe that was for the best:

 These are the extra tiny Cub Scouts. From the future.

Dangit, Michael, not again!

This month was the 107th birthday of the Boy Scouts, so naturally:

The only thing missing is U.

Or a bad Scottish accent. ("Ach! Me wee bairns!"*)

[*Sorry, that's from all the Star Trek books I read as a child. Scotty said it all the time, but I have no idea what it means. If it's something dirty, please accept my apologies/knowing looks & elbow jabs.]

And finally, bakers, why don't you give us the 411?

Or, sure, that works.

(SO CLOSE.)

Thanks to Colleen R., Miranda E., Robert W., & Amy H. for always being prepared... with their phone cameras.

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