Barnorama All Fun In The Barn
Hopefully this isn’t foreshadowing for the honeymoon.
“Screw it, let’s just have pie instead.”
Eh, close enough.
Nailed it.
“Just buy a nice topper and no one will notice how shitty the cake-part is…”
“Our love is like a cone that’s slowly turning blue… or something.”
“I asked for a sand castle, not a dirty phallus covered in sea shells.”
Obviously this was the last attempt by the groom to trick his bride-to-be into admitting she isn’t a virgin.
“Do you have anything that says: we met while getting arrested for graffitiing a rubber duck factory?”
“Quick… how do I salvage this disaster?!”
Jabba the… what?
They left off the part about the pat-down and strip-search by the TSA.
This cake-maker didn’t even try.
“Love. Faith. Hope. Thrust. Love. Faith. Hope. Thrust….”
Nothing says “true love” like a pile of tires, I guess?
“I want a cake that looks like me, so you’ll know that’s the last piece of ass you’ll ever enjoy”
“I want something grander than all your other cakes combined”
Nothing like drawing your wedding cake inspiration from the Eye of Sauron.
Even Salvador Dali would find this a little disappointing.
What the hell is going on here…
“I want a cake depicting my new husband falling off a cliff to his death.”
The three frostingless fruitcakes of eternal devotion.
The empty Bud Light cans were a nice touch.
Everything was going so well for Patrick the Baker. But then the acid started to kick in…
I didn’t realize they made cakes for “shooting your husband so you can run off with a deer.”
“Ok so here’s what we want for our wedding: I want a cake that looks like an 8-year-old designed it, and then promptly sat on it.”
