Blah blah blah. Blah blah blah, blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah. Blah? Blah blah blah.
Blah blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah. Blah, blah blah blah blah blah blah. Blah blah, blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah.
Why do I feel compelled to review this in any natural way? It’s a limited edition Friendly’s “Spumoni Roll,” but you can see that. What am I supposed to add? It’s not like people won’t notice that the words were just disguising a Spumoni Roll picture gallery as an “article.”
Photo, two paragraphs, photo, two paragraphs. So many words and nothing really to them.
I refuse to do that today. I did it yesterday and I’ll do it tomorrow, but I won’t do it today. Not to the Spumoni Roll.
Its unabashed Christmas glee inspires me to use this site the way it should be used, without holding to archaic concepts that benefit no one, least of all Friendly’s cofounder Curtis Blake.
I wonder if he’s still alive?
That’s what I want to do.
It has to beat a normal review, right? It’s better for me, better for us all. X-E shouldn’t be a chore to construct, and it certainly shouldn’t be a chore to read. People come here for smiles, not because they need someone to tell them what ice cream to buy.
You’d rather see me turn the cake into a monster.
I’d rather turn the cake into a monster, too.
My canvas is fucking gorgeous.
I curse because I’m edgy.
I write dark things because they will trick you into believing that my cake reviews are nothing like the forty thousand other cake reviews you wouldn’t be caught dead fucking reading.
That’s also why I’m going to give this bitch cherry eyeballs.
I bought all of the candy shown above, plus more, for “regular review” purposes. Problem is, since X-E has been covering Christmas since the age of the dinosaurs, I’ve already written about most of that stuff before. And the ones I didn’t? Well, you tell me:
“Shown above are Tic Tacs, boasting their new ‘Holiday Twist’ motif, which blends red and white mints into an altogether Christmassy arrangement.”
“And here’s a Snickers bar, reshaped to look like a nutcracker guy.”
“Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.”
I’m going to use this candy to make my monster cake.
Fun? Yes. Easy? Not really. Friendly’s Spumoni Roll has the consistency of a Carvel cake. This is to say, it only holds its shape long enough for a five minute showing. After that, the cake rapidly melts, like a dying gremlin, forming a Spumoni puddle that can only be–
I’ll shut up.
No minced words. Nothing except monster cakes.
Spumonster is born! Since that marks this article’s peak, I no longer feel the need to buck conventions. I can slide back into my normal role, which is that of someone who types until things look finished.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but Spumonster appears a bit like Mickey Mouse. At least in terms of silhouette. It’d be interesting if the similarities went beyond that, since Spumonster’s chocolate medallion ears are just about his least offensive feature. I now envision a Mickey with televisions for feet and a tail crafted from the finest cod roe.
At first glance, Spumonster looks like a careless mess. Not true. Plenty of thought went into him. I had a plan and a strategy, which are two different things. All of Spumonster’s bells and whistles mean something. I’m here to explain, in great detail, just what.
I felt that Spumonster needed to look stoic. Monster cakes are serious. By aligning the red M&M mouth pieces in a straight line, I’ve avoided any would-be theories about Spumonster smiling.
Spumonster doesn’t smile. He wreaks fucking havoc. Like Godzilla with pistachio scales.
Spumonster has arms made of cinnamon sticks. His hands are maraschino cherries, or perhaps those are merely his gloves? You decide.
Spumonster has hair made of marshmallows. It’s a cute tuft, no doubt about it. Spumonster hates being thought of as cute, but I wasn’t about to waste an opportunity to call marshmallows “hair.” I have enough regrets.
Spumonster carries a bunch of cherries on his back. Jury’s still out on them. They could be Spumonster’s legendary treasure, or he might just be a creature of misfired evolution, who wears his most critical organs outside of his skin.
If it’s treasure, you can’t get it unless you kill Spumonster in battle. Good luck with that fool’s errand.
If it’s organs, then I can understand why Spumonster never smiles. To do so would encourage children to “horse around” with him. People with unprotected hearts shouldn’t play-wrestle. Really, nobody should.
I see these marshmallows as Spumonster’s first line of defense. They’re projectiles. He’s like one of the battleships from SMB3 World 8. Get too close to his kidney cherries, and he will shoot.
And all of the other candy? I put that there so Spumonster wouldn’t look too much like a normal Friendly’s Spumoni Roll. Only then would I have failed.
That’s his ass. It’s a mess. All tabloid photogs must be directed to shoot Spumonster from the front. So long as I maintain this, I’ll continue to receive 20% of his appearance fees.
But I can dream, and in my dreams, I’m screwing up Friendly’s desserts with you.
Blah blah blah. Blah blah blah, blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah. Blah.