My mom is crazy. Just, like, totally nuts.
I don’t know if she’s always been crazy, or if I’m just noticing it more now. It’s possible that she was just as crazy as she is now when I was younger but I was too self-involved to notice. Either way, she’s fucking crazy, you can trust me when I say that. And she reads this blog, so please know that I mean that in the best possible way, Ma.
It’s always something. Every time we head back home for a family thing or a holiday there’s some new strain of craziness that’s making its way around. It’s usually harmless though. Just some run-of-the-mill everyday insanity that we can all have a good chuckle about. Like the time she thought her eyesight had drastically worsened overnight, but then realized that the dog had just chewed the lenses out of her glasses. Or the time she thought that “bobody” was a word. That time she punched the neighbour’s lights out, with an admittedly precise uppercut. And who could forget the slew of wildly inappropriate jokes she’s always got handy for the telling. Seriously, a couple of weeks ago she told me this joke about a woman who masturbated with a Chiquita banana and insisted that it was just a “cute little joke”.
It’s just part of the deal I guess. You go back home, you have some craziness, and then you have to leave so all the crazy can start regenerating again for your next visit.
We went home for a belated Thanksgiving dinner last weekend and the craziness was in full force, let me tell you. There was that mothering intensity over my fracture, mom wanting to dope me up with all kinds of old pills she had leftover from her accident a few years ago. Which is sweet, that she’s so concerned. But really, I’m not just going to start taking a bunch of dusty old pills because a) who the hell knows what will happen to me if I do and b) I’m not insane. Then she pulled out some weird plastic contraption, from who the hell knows where, that supposedly helps you make your own ribbons and bows. It’s a technological revolution, I tells ya! Inevitably, the insistence that she needed help figuring out how it works followed. But that turned out to be a reasonable enough request once I opened the instruction manual and immediately noticed no less than ten typos. Again, where did this ridiculous thing even come from? Doesn’t matter anyway does it? You know the end result will be the same. We did our best with it, but damn did that plastic piece of shit ever cause a world of unnecessary frustration. Then there was also the bartering of her crocheting skills in return for a 50 lb bag of potatoes from a relative. And there was family and neighbourhood gossip peppered in for good measure, because let’s be real here, everyone is crazy and it wouldn’t be the holidays if we didn’t make time to swap all of our respective stories on the continual craziness that colours our collective lives.
And then, of course, there was the Thanksgiving dessert.
Normal families would just have pumpkin or apple pie and call it a day. But not us, oh no. Mom decided to be creative this year and try something different…
It’s different alright.
I took one look at that lump of frosting and wondered if maybe my mom had started dropping acid on her days off. Probably not, but a cake like that does bring up a lot of questions.
It’s two pumpkin cakes that were made in bundt pans and then stacked and iced to look like a pumpkin. For decorative flair there’s also a black liquorice stump and some candied leaves on his head, and a delightfully retarded little face. But that’s not all! Inside the pumpkin cake awaited another strange surprise…
Might be a little tough to see, but the fugly pumpkin cake’s head was filled with little pumpkin candies. So when we sliced it open it felt like we were all working together to perform a risky and delicate brain surgery. Or, you know, committing a really fucked up murder.
The cake itself was actually really good. Moist, light, and sweet. Covered all the bases in terms of what you’d want from a cake. We always used to love helping my mom with her baking when we were little. It was fun. She made a lot of carrot cakes, which I always loved. But they’d usually just have a nice light dusting of icing sugar on top. And banana bread. Oh hells yes, my ma could make the best banana bread you ever had the pleasure of eating. But the homemade baked goods of my youth were much more modest in appearance than my mom’s current day creations.
I’m not sure which I prefer.
On the one hand, I see a cake like that fugly little pumpkin one and I worry that a couple more of mom’s screws have tumbled loose. On the other hand, I kind of enjoy the zany, if not slightly affected, manner her cakes have recently adopted. Not a lot of people can say that they got to eat a cake that had a lazy eye.
And I suppose that’s kind of special. Like my Ma.
She’s crazy, most assuredly crazy, but in a very special way. It’s okay though. I dig it, Ma. After a bit of consideration I think you should keep the weird little cakes coming. They’re fun, and they’re offbeat. Just like you.
THIS IS THE GREATEST CAKE OF ALL TIME SMASH, LIKE, IM STILL LAUGHING – IT IS SO GLORIOUS. I wish I had a cake like this to call my own. You’re so right, its very special 🙂
LikeLike
This cake definitely has a character all of its own, lol. I’m glad it was able to bring some laughter into the world in his very brief time with us.
LikeLike
Good work Mama Smash.
LikeLike
She’ll be so pleased with your compliment! 🙂
LikeLike
Being crazy, fun and off beat is a survival skill for staying sane.
LikeLike
And for fighting off boredom! Thanks for reading 🙂
LikeLike
Bobody: (noun) A man who has a body like Bo Duke from ‘The Dukes of Hazzard’. As in, “Hey, did you see that guy Marcie hooked up with last night? He’s a real bobody!”
LikeLike
Well done my friend! I stand corrected. Bobody is indeed a very fine word 🙂
LikeLike
What are you talking about! That looks EXACTLY like a pumpkin!
😀
LikeLike
A pumpkin from Altair-4 maybe? LOL
LikeLike
HAHA! Ah now it just looks creepy. D:
LikeLike
That’s a very special cake 😀
LikeLike
I will say this for the little guy, he was as delicious as he was special.
LikeLike
😀 Love it!
LikeLike
Thanks Zoë!
LikeLike
I’m going to paint this cake. What is his name?
LikeLike
I think this cake would make for an excellent painting, and I am honoured that he has inspired you. I don’t think we gave him a name. But he kind of looks like a Franklin to me.Or maybe a Petey. What do you think?
LikeLike
Pete Franklin, pumpkin cake and Geico telemarketer.
LikeLike
Nailed it!
LikeLike
This is a beautiful post and a beautiful cake. Did you bring enough for everyone??? Huh?? Huh??? HUH????
LikeLike
Thank you!
Lol, sad to say that there aren’t any leftovers. We bashed this little guy’s head in and gobbled him all up!
LikeLike
I’m not sure I appreciate this lack of generosity.
LikeLike
You could always use these very helpful photos and try to recreate it. I’d love to see that!
LikeLike
If there’s one thing I cannot do it’s bake. I can saute and broil and make a mean salad dressing but I can’t bake.
LikeLike
Oh my gosh that is the most amazing cake ever. What a pinstrosity– I give your Mom mad credit for that. Also you get credit for proper and effective use of the word “fugly.” Credit all around!
LikeLike
Ooo Pinstrosity! I love the sound of that word. Thanks for reading 🙂
LikeLike
Dude, that fucking cake! It’s so crazy. I actually laughed out loud when I saw it again tonight. I can’t even begin to imagine finding that in the fridge. You should probably print a photo and frame it. I know you’re always looking for stuff to hang on your walls….
LikeLike
Yeah this one is way better than the banana bread birthday loaf with “Happy Bithday Ashley” on it that I got for my 25th birthday. Note of course that birthday was spelled without the letter ‘r’ lol.
LikeLike
Hey my brain child, love your scoop and laughed at mineown goofiness for all to see, but laughter keeps us young, right? love ya Ma
LikeLike
Did you read the comments, mom? Everyone is loving your cake! They think it’s awesome. So now you’re going to have to come up with something even crazier for the next holiday. And I can’t wait to see it! Love you too.
LikeLike
Your mom rules!
LikeLike
She is pretty cool. She never really tried to be a “cool” parent when I was growing up, she just kind of let life run its course. Which ultimately made her all the more cool, because she never reeked of trying too hard.
LikeLike
My mom reeked of gin and gunpowder.
LikeLike
Hmm, that seems fitting.
LikeLike
Hi Ash, er I mean SMASH, I copied this story and took it to work for a retired doc to read and he quite enjoyed it, said it was well written and was wondering what exactly fugly meant. He thought it would be good to use in scrabble. I didn’t say to him that I thought you made it up and was a cross tween Fucked up and ugly? Please clarify as I have not checked dictionary as yet. Luv Ya PS Thanks to other commenters for not being harsh with their views of a masterpiece!
LikeLike
Yeah… he probably shouldn’t use that one for scrabble. That’s a pretty good guess, but it’s actually a slang term for “fucking ugly”. So you won’t find that one in the regular dictionary.
LikeLike
Hahaha! That cake is awesome! At least she can bake a yummy cake. 🙂 Mine can’t! Mine is crazy but with no skills. 😉
LikeLike
That’s true. At least the craziness comes with delicious baked goods!
LikeLike
It may be fugly but I’d still eat the hell out of it! 🙂
LikeLike
That’s the important thing about this cake. It may be strange looking, but by no means is that reflective of how it tasted.
LikeLike
Pingback: Another Fugly Cake | Smashing Through Life!