cake bandit and tiki ghost
These are rather unusual rounds– not my typical cakebarring ventures– but sometimes I manage to remember that I make up the rules of this dating baking sugar-centric sport as I go, and offering cake up is still offering cake up. That being said, Round 35 occurred at a Halloween party full of strangers, and no outside party was offered cake during Round 36. Here we go:
After an invigorating viewing of The Craft at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery last weekend, our amazing visiting friend Sarah was determined to come cakebarring with me, having fallen asleep for Round 34. We thought about walking down the street to somewhere nearby, but the lure of the (live) Disney music coming from our apartment’s garage was just too appealing to resist: we decided to take the cake to the fete already in full swing outside, and offer it to a bunch of party guests we didn’t know.
is it just me, or do you look like tiger lily?
Sarah and I threw together costumes in about 70 seconds– she a Tiki Ghost, and I a Cake Bandit. I took the 60% of a leftover coconut birthday cake I had made and put it on a serving plate, and off we went, masked and unfamiliar into this party full of masked and unfamiliar people. “Would you like some cake?” we asked, like hired caterers for the event, (which some people surely thought we were). We met a friendly mad scientist named Nathan, some smoking nuns, a light up stick figure man, and a lot of scantily clad girls hoping to win big in the party’s sexiest costume contest. A friendly graphic designer in a Superman costume guessed immediately that I was a Cake Bandit, which was kind of a magical miracle. Then there was the Australian lifeguard, who insisted I take a picture in his inflatable pool while he blew his whistle. We met a Peter Pan and Pocahontas couple, which was confusing because she looked more like Tiger Lily, who is the assumed counterpart of Peter Pan should there be no Wendy present. Sarah was an excellent PR rep, insisting I tuck business cards into my bra (no pockets), and tactfully mentioning my blog to most of our cake eaters. Pocahontas said, “Oh. Did you guys know anyone here?”
“Yes,” I said. “We were invited,” I affirmed, pushing my sudden and unwelcome middle-school era feelings of exclusion to the bottom of some emotional drain pipe. “Can we take your picture?”**
The funniest moments happened when Sarah and I approached single guys with cake, and girlfriends quickly and eerily materialized, tugging at their boyfriends and holding them sideways. It was way strange, making me realize just how spoiled I am that all my girlfriends must be of some rare and trusting tribe where they don’t hang over the people they’re romantically involved with. Maybe it was just touching that these girls felt the need to get territorial after spotting a masked (fully clothed) bandit and a second androgynous person wearing a white sheet offering sweets to their men.
full frontal cakes
Thanks for inviting us, Rob!
And then came actual Halloween, for which Chrissy has been planning our cake costumes for many weeks. She found this idea on Subtle Revelry and translated it for our adult bodies (and child minds). After many trips to crafting stores and a lot of hot glue gunning injuries, we had a lavender, pink, and mint cake made up for Katy, Chrissy, and me, with LCD birthday candles tucked in for top tiers.
If you haven’t been to the West Hollywood Halloween parade before, all you need to picture is something akin to World War Z: more people than you’ve ever seen on blocks and blocks of closed-off streets, frightening, previously unseen levels of traffic, and unheard of parking difficulties. Everyone wears costumes, and for someone who doesn’t love crowds, I somehow really enjoy it.
Hard to miss on our trek up to the parade in our bright and wide costumes, we were honked at, waved to, and serenaded with the happy birthday song about seventeen times, prompting me to call us “happy birthday cakes,” as opposed to just regular ones. We were super delighted to pose for pictures for about 50 people, including a sweet Asian man who had us pose with his parents. Another photographer wanted a picture for his baker friend, and I managed to give him a business card should his friend ever want a business partner.
After an hour of parading, we swung home to grab the pumpkin cake I had made, and crammed back into the car with all our cake pieces. We headed to the West Third Street bars, and it was there that we were defeated. There was no one in 3rd Street Station. Goal Bar was closed. And when it looked like we could finally make it into El Carmen, the doorman told us we wouldn’t be allowed to eat our cake inside. “That’s it,” I said. We had walked miles in our cake costumes, aerobically balancing our cake tier hats on our heads, so patiently enduring parking troubles. It was 12:30am on a school night. And we had tried three different bars. “We’re taking this home and eating it. It still counts.”
I’m about to embark on a cakebarring flurry, determined to finish the 50 cake mark by the end of the year, so I don’t feel in any way discouraged or set back by this lack of third party cake consumption. It doesn’t matter that no one ate the cake but us on Halloween. As I keep preaching to people who are probably sorry they asked– it just matters that we’re trying.
**I had been invited to the party, by the way, by my building manager. This was not cake crashing. Hashtag notraisedbywolves.
mad scientist cake