Having leftover butter cake with whipped frosting in my fridge is akin to:
a. Tossing Woody Harrelson into a room full of weed + locking the door.
b. Allowing a 6 year old boy to run free in Party City.
c. Putting a butt in front of a dog’s nose.
d. All of the above.
(If you selected “d”, go dig a gold star sticker from your junk drawer and adhere it to your forehead…I can wait…)
I just can’t help myself. I keep helping myself.
Its sitting in there, all 2-layered yumliciousness, waiting for me.
You’d think I’d have my fill. Seeing that:
– I sampled one of the 18 cupcakes I sent to Mr. T’s school yesterday for his bday.
– we had this cake last night after dinner for our family celebration
– in 1.25 hours I will walk next door for a bday party and there will be cupcakes
– tomorrow I am making 3 dozen cupcakes for Mr. T’s big bday party
But no. I am insatiable and cannot leave it alone. I must cut a thick slab, zap it in the microwave for 30 seconds, and dip every bite of soft cake into drippy warm melty frosting.
Last night the kids each had a slice, I ate 2.
Then I had it for breakfast.
And I just had another slice for snack.
I need a Cake-ervention. Its so, so good but its going to make me a great big fat person if I don’t walk away.
I just don’t know if I have the strength to step away from the cake.