quasify

In a break from our long and somewhat bizarre tradition, I didn’t have a skittle cake this year. It seemed odd to make one for myself, odder yet to eat it alone. But then this confection showed up at my house last night, completely unexpectedly, courtesy of the enemy of the people. This is just about the most presciently perfect skittle cake replacement that I could imagine. She did good eh? It’s almost too perfect to eat.

UPDATE: Enemy of the people prefers we not call her that. So for now we’ll tentatively rebrand as BABP (bad-ass bridgie-pooh).