Fresh from my oven, Amish Friendship Cake, the same stuff I gave to Incubus. It’s a damn good thing they didn’t taste it (which I’m sure they didn’t), because they’d still be fighting over which one gets to marry me. Well, okay, it’s true - the cake wasn’t enough to save my own marriage, but to this day, whenever my ex-husband comes over here, the first words out of his mouth are, “Is there any Amish cake?”
This one, I’m afraid, is reserved for a certain sexual deviant I’ve been blogging about, and struggling with, whose birthday is tomorrow. It’s already been established he’s not into vanilla. Let’s see how he feels about cinnamon sugar. Either way, my apologies to the Amish.