Cakewrecks

I adore the literalism of this


Cakewrecks killed a good half of yesterday for me.

I love google-image-searching cakes. Trust there to be a whole blog about it.

When I was in Year Nine I took an elective class for one semester, cake decorating. I do not know why. It was with Miz Clee, the least liked home ec teacher. It was pretty awful, still I learnt a lot about marzipan. I made an ugly ugly cake with lots of pastel flowers on it. No sense of imagination or humour.

Perhaps I should just be a clock repairer. I think I'd be good at something like that ('what're the hours?')

keep playing those word games

Saw a show today that involved a video featuring repeated singing of the phrase 'old grey mashy aint what she used to be, aint what she used to be, aint what she used to be'.

Now, you and I both know it's mare.

But does the artist? Of course he does. It fits in ... 'whoops! I got it "wrong"'

Things that challenge my self-righteousness are possibly healthy. Likely.

Now I have 'great green globs of greasy grimy gopher guts' stuck in my head. When will this world of pain come to an end!