cake!

hey duders,
sometimes it's important to get molto fresh on a wet tuesday.
i mean,
i shoveled a slogging sh!t-soup slop off of my whole entire driveway.
it weighed, like, a billionteen pounds, and it was splashing and
sliding, and spreading in every direction.
no jokes, jerks,
it took two of the heaviest, longest, cold, wet, rainy hours of my day
to shovel-fight my way up and over, across, and through the crappy
coating of sleety water-ice so that i wouldn't go full berserker on the
rest of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
that's a thing, neighbors.
for serious.
y'ever get so ferociously fired up and furious that nearly all sense and reason
flee from the inside of your head,
replaced with hot fire and lightning and stormswept savage barbarian brutality?
no?
weird.
it happens to me all the time.
and when the conversation takes a turn towards activated indifference
and unaccountability, with a side order of weak sauce and nancypantsery?
the number one solution is to flip the F* out.
...hard.
which is great for wrecking the whole mother-b!tchin' joint.
and also great for running up the home-improvement tab on repairing the
wrecking ball of wrath's swath of holy terrorizing.
therefore,
the measure of a truly wise warrior of interactive participation is how
they channel the forces of blind rage and dead hearts into something
at once equally destructive and productive.
like a squeaky clean driveway, and a swampy flooded iceberg bog in my front yard.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
one defiling crisis of crucial catastrophic calamity averted,
with a shovel and some boots and some sweat, snot, water, and work.
*
what's the reward for such tiresome toil and foiled roiling rage?
c'mon.
treats!
you know it.
check the apple spiced teleport:

word up, y'all.
streusel goes on top of coffee cake,
and coffee cake goes on top of apple pie blops.
and apple pie blops go on top of cinnamon oats,
and all of it goes in the oven,
and comes out swinging with a cinnamon stick or two.
the oatmeal coconut nobbles and baubles on top are so thick that just a teeny
little itty bitty baby bit of cake shows through.
too much, ninjas, is just right.
and there's too much turbo hottness in this fluffy and moist crumb coffee cake,
and too much syrupy sweetness in those sloppy macintosh goobieblops.
is it good?
what are you?
an A*-hole?
of course it's good.
super good, even.
and it's the only way to fend off exhaustion and disappointment after a day
of drudgery and doo-doo buttery cold wet weather.
the upshot?
the cucch is back,
and stinky stumps and warm woolen socks are on the schedule.
tonight is the night, ninjas.
and that means today is finally over.
just in time;
never quiet, never soft.....