Photo care of Necole Bitchie
I knooooow you see it. I'm so tempted to just slap this photo up here and allow you to self-tragedize. But that would be neglecting my duties as sergeant in arms against the spread of foolwangary and a publically elected documentor of coonanigans (Trademarked).
Soooo, I was in the midst of my normal morning routine as of late - downing of a mug of vodka while mumbling bitterly about The Man and perusing the latest submissions for Coon of the Year, when I stumbled upon the above photo, snapped at Ray J's 30th birthday.
Ray J. Yes, that. We won't delve into how he remains relevant anywhere on planet Earth; I will leave these mysteries to be solved by the likes of Stephen Hawkings, who has recieved a detailed WTF query.
Anywho, I was just about to move on when something about the cake caught my eye: Are those cocaine bricks atop the cake???
Nevermind that this fool would be summarily ground into a fine powder and distributed by the likes of Gucci Mane iffen he EVER set foot in an establishment peddling such bricks. (I won't even begin to address the "Pure" sign...) Nevermind that he has no familiarity with the monetary currency represented on the cake.
No, those are the obvious offenses. The real question is who made the cake? I thought Desserts by Latrell was closed?
And at this point, dear readers, I shall fold up my laptop, fold myself into 44 pieces, and await the mushroom cloud.
I suggest you do the same.
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