...and eat it.

I saw on Twitter this morning that it was "cake and cunnilingus day". I didn't even know that existed, but I suppose it's some sort of alternative to steak-and-a-blowjob day earlier on in the year. I prefer both aspects of today though, to be honest. You know, if it actually is C&C day. I haven't seen it mentioned anywhere else on Twitter and I'm too lazy to Google. But I don't care whether it is or not. It gave me an excuse to up my questionable thought process.

I love cunnilingus. Love it. Love love love it. And I really want to lick a girl out. Really really really. I want to make her scream. I love the whole process - the licking, the sucking, the breath, the taste. Everything about it. Love it.

But anyway, yeah, so I haven't licked any girls out for a few months and it's not likely to start happening now, no matter how many times I offer my services. So that only leaves...

"Mother?"
"Yes?"
"How long does it take to bake a cake?"
"Depends on what..."
"Victoria Sponge."
"About an hour, beginning to end? Baking for about twenty minutes? Why?"
"Can I bake some?"
"Well, I suppose you can, if..."
"Thanks!"
I ran back into the kitchen, where I'd already got all the ingredients out.

Now, as you may be aware, I'm trying to lose weight at the moment and I'm actually making a pretty good attempt at it, even though it's not at all apparent. So I in fact halved the recipe for Victoria Sponge Cake and made one tin's worth. None of this fancy sandwich stuff. I also used lighter Lurpak spread as an alternative to butter. I also beat it thoroughly... very thoroughly. Although I was using a blender, so maybe that's a cheat. I don't care, it's cake. Into the oven it went, and started baking nicely. I was so pleased with myself that I'd been narrating my progress as a sort of Cooking with ILB programme-in-my-head.

I acquiesced and actually used real butter for the buttercream icing, because my mother insisted.

"What are you making?" asked my sister, barging in from wherever it is that she's been today.
"What does it look like I'm making, my dear?" I asked, gesticulating with my wooden spoon. "Buttercream icing. Pass the vanilla."
She passed the vanilla. "Why are you making it?"
"Well, there's cake too," I said, needlessly pointing to the oven.
"Why are you making cake?"
I leaned forwards, whispering into her ear so the parents, who were talking about something so mundane I don't even remember the fact that they were there, couldn't hear. "It's cake and cunnilingus day, and as I'm single, I'm going for the cake."
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," interjected my sister. She then paused and grinned. "Save me some."

I began to clean up when the oven pinged. And here it is.


I've managed, it seems, to invent the incredible self-disintegrating cake. Well, you've certainly got to admit it's light.

And, I'm happy to say, that like cunnilingus... it tastes great.