I like cake.

Yesterday, I became possessed. With a yellow-cake-with-white-frosting demon.

I started feeling as though I was in the mood for cake (at first, any kind of cake) right after dinner. A couple hours later, I couldn't shake it and had narrowed it down. It HAD to be yellow cake and white frosting.

My wonderful husband tried to convince me that an Oreo blizzard from Dairy Queen would be good, too. No, no, no. CAKE. It had to be cake.

As he walked out the door at 8:30 p.m. on a Friday night to find me cake, he yelled over his shoulder, "This better go on the blog!"

Now, in my defense, he also came back with beer for himself, so he did get something out of the deal (or perhaps my incessant cake talk had driven him to drink?).

He did manage to find the most perfect piece of yellow cake with white frosting. It was EXACTLY what I wanted, and as I dug in, he began to videotape me, unbeknownst to me. See the train wreck for yourself:

Yeah. (By the way, when he asked me if the cake was hitting the spot "a lot", what I said was, "huuuuge." Kind of hard to hear with all the cake in my mouth.)