("Happy birthday, honey! ...sorry your cake looks like a homicidal maniac.")
A slight slip of the hand, the eyebrows go on crooked, and all of a sudden you'd got the most pissed off birthday cake ever. No amount of ice cream could hide that evil glare...all Raggedy Ann needed was something stabby in that pink hand and I'd probably still be having nightmares.
But I'm sure the cake was delicious - my mom's a terrific baker. And look! Party hats and noisemakers! My childhood was perfectly lovely, aside from a few buttercream mishaps.*
(And, yes, my mother will probably yell at me for posting this. I hope you all appreciate it.)
*the purpose of this post was to make you all go read Cake Wrecks, the funniest food blog on the web.