The waitress put this sandwich consisting of Nutella, Marshmallow Fluff and bananas in front of me and I accidentally bit her hand!!

A funfetti cupcake is successful both aesthetically and deliciously. Upon tearing off a moist, frosting covered chunk with the incisors, one is then presented with a particularly jubilant interior. A porous and fluffy affair sparkling with the bright, melted residue of the sprinkles that once hibernated inside of it. It's incredible. I'm sure you know.

Move B*tch Get Out The Way

Nothing is capable of imploding my moral foundation like a box of Dunkin Donuts. I will trample a sea of elderlies and pregnants to sink my fangs into these frosted delights. Obviously I didn't craft the box above, as you can see by the wack ass selection it contains. Although the Christmas ones were quite nice. When I was captain of my high school hockey team I would set a good example for my fellow skaters by eating a dozen munchkins and drinking a hot chocolate minutes before stepping onto the ice. Whatever works, ya know?

Pleased to Meat You

My waiter at Uncle Jack's was like a combination of Christopher Walken, Jack Nicholson after he goes insane in The Shining and a human bag of cocaine. His wide-eyed, ravenous gaze and persona of an impending bloodbath made for a terrifying experience as he recited the list of specials like someone that just drank the mercury out of a thermometer. He made everyone at the table amused and uncomfortable, but the service was quite good.

I ordered the gorgeous hunk of carnage pictured above – a 35 day dry aged ribeye. Dry aging is when God sits down at a table and blows on a piece of meat until it's time to be served. It tasted exactly like it looks. It's spotlit because the flash setting on my camera is set to "blindness".

Already filled to the brim with chewed meat, I felt like it would be a smart idea to order a slice of pecan pie. I ate it while drinking a Maker's Mark manhattan, and upon completion went brain dead and lost the ability to see and hear. For the rest of the night the extent of my communicating was limited to slow, circular movements of my bottom jaw – like a cow with a mouthful of grass. Totally worth it.

Frosting, I Surrender

Oh, a tower of cupcakes. Each ones' moist, vanilla body attired in an elegant dress of chocolate frosting. Once more, my mother is the culprit here - her culinary gusto leading to the caloric deluge that threatens to overtake me on a regular basis. These were produced this past weekend, during the "hurricane". If my math is correct, and I ate one each time I walked by them, I consumed roughly 325 cupcakes.

F for Effort, or How I Can't Not Eat Something

So my mother made this carrot cake and pretty much ruined my day because I had to eat most of it. Honestly, I don't deal well with a cake just sitting there like some delicious, frosting covered tramp. I'm not one for resistance.

Hey, Good Lookin'

My mother makes cakes. I don't recall what constituted the interior of this one because it was a while ago but the outside is vanilla frosting, crystallized funfetti sprinkles, and appears to be about two feet high.

I presumably looked like Bruce Bogtrotter from Matilda while I was eating it.