Described by a comedic legend as a six-foot-high cinnamon swirl cake made for one sad, fat man. Tub of jizzy hot syrup not included. Reel in the good times with your very own airborne F.F.T
When she was too lazy to bake her own cupcakes, your mom bought the supermarket monstrosities so stale they could be carbon dated. The icing was so sharp it could be registered as a deadly weapon.