What you’ve missed on the other blog.
In this brand new, ground breaking, and hard hitting series – that will occur when I can’t think of anything else to write about – we will discuss, “What I May Have Just Seen On The Internet.” It could be anything! Elves! Elvis! Dire squirrels!
Here are the rules:
- I can only catch a glimpse of the topic in a feed.
- I can’t click the link or read the article at all before I start weighing in. Which seems to be a widely accepted practice these days.
- Only after I write about what I think I saw do I actually investigate what I glimpsed.
- Then reveal it to you and figure out if I’m right or wrong.
Now, without further adieu…
There wasn’t too much that I felt like writing about. To be honest, I’ve been pretty lazy on the writing front lately. I guess it’s just that time of year. Anticipation for the holidays and a good lengthy vacation that can’t get here soon enough. I cannot wait!
It was during one of my classic “how am I going to spend all that time” day dreams that I came across an image in my facebook feed. No, it wasn’t someone’s less than attractive child. Although, what I saw has the ability to make unattractive children even less so. What did I see? Well for those who’ve missed the word twice already it was Piecakes or that is what I am calling them.
At first glance, piecakes may look like a chocolate cake with cherries in it. Maybe there is some sort of cream up in there. Who wouldn’t like that? Upon further inspection, potential diabetics will realize that those cherries are living inside of a pie and that pie is nestled in between two layers of chocolate cake! Hallelueah! Hosanna in the highest and angels on high it is truly the most wonderful time of the year. No wonder way Santa is such a fatty!
Sweet bearded Jesus I was right! Well, except that it’s called Piecaken, which is superior to the name, piecakes. While piecaken is a nod to Turducken – which contains three birds – piecaken is only pie and cake. Maybe someone should turn it into a pudding cake and call it Piecaking. Not complaining, just trying to make things better.
So, this exists and I couldn’t have been happier. I wish I would have left it there. I was trying to find a good image. Below is the best version of what I originally saw. I don’t know who decided to upload the world’s tiniest recipe photo and I don’t want to know the jackasses that blew it up to 1080p. What the hell is wrong with people? My euphoric state was beginning to wane.
Before I settled on the photo above I came across many other versions of piecaken. Deviations on the somewhat palatable cherry/chocolate combo. Three different pies inside of one cake! Pumpkin and rhubarb don’t belong on the same plate, much less shoved inside a cake with an apple pie. Lovecraftian abominations with no structural integrity were all I saw. All of them were oozing and collapsing on themselves. While some had berries, none had any respect.
Where do you side delicious or disgusting? Let us know!
As alway please like, share, and look both ways before crossing the streets. That’s the one way that I don’t want to lose readership.
My wife and I went out for dinner the other night. One of our favorite places. A place that was once visited by Seventhia. Thankfully, she nor her helicopter parents or their royal – pain in ass – entourage were there this time. We ate our meal and had great conversation. We didn’t get dessert. Although, my sweet tooth was acting up. We finished our tea, paid and left.
On our way home we walked the damp sidewalk hand and hand. My sweet tooth still beckoned between loving murmurs. Outside the dollar store, I spied a wrapper on the ground. My heart was a flutter, yet my brain denied that I was seeing what I was seeing. Yet it allowed me to start processing a plan for an impromptu trip into the dollar store to purchase what came in said wrapper.
What was it? Well for those of you who don’t like to read titles. It was a Hostess peach pie. One of my favorite treats as a child and as it just so happened, that for the past few days, I had been craving a fruit pie. No, not one of those things your grandma made. Not some circular tart that you, if you have self control, cut into wedges and eat off of a plate. I mean those things that you buy at 7-11 or for the rural folk, the gas station. They are kind of shaped like tacos, but are tightly fluted shut for lack of a better term. Their crust is dry and crumbly. The fruit was harvested back when Germany was one country, the first time and jam packed full of so much sugar that it will still taste fresh for years to come. As long as your definition of fresh is the coagulated syrupy sugar of a thousand soft drinks.
They also don’t seem to exist. Sure maybe the cherry and apple are able to be found and other brand names at that. But the peach pie is a rare delicacy in this day and age of frowning upon gluten, trans fat, monosodium glutamate and everything else that makes eating wonderful.
I have read, on the internet, that Hostess peach pies “are the best thing I have ever tasted,” and that “they are the closest thing to lambdas bread we have in our world.” To that I say, why aren’t elves fatter. Why aren’t there a bunch of fat fuck wood elves huffin and puffin in the forest, ripping their green tights and snapping tree branches?
Anyway, it wasn’t a peach pie wrapper. I don’t know what it was. Once I was actually close enough to read, there were tears of disappointment filling my eyes and the pains of a breaking heart in my chest. Which is actually better than the chest pains I would have eventually gotten from the pie.