Fans, there are many perks of being one of my friendpersons. You get to Walk down the Street Next to me, answer my frantic phone calls, feel neglected when I don’t call you back when YOU are frantic, be forced to see my plays. AND you get custom made Bekah cakes shaped like assorted inside jokes for your jilted or current lovers.
The latest installment, c’est fini!
The steak cake not only thrives in my freezer as we speak, but is also my emo myspace friend. Sometimes, we hang out. That looks like this:
The steakcake is pretty unjudgemental as a friend. Loyal; yummy. It sees beyond my greasy, frosting-ridden hair, my unemployment, right to the very heart and meat of who I am: generous, scattered. Perhaps, as a token of gratitude, I will make it a cake. It will be a small version of itself. Perhaps a piece of Bologna. They will be friends in the freezer.