Spam and cake (mmm ... tasty)

I love spam that really speaks to me. Like the piece I received today:

Because, lord knows if you quote 12 different adages (one of them twice), I'm way more likely to buy your breast firming cream. No, really.

In completely different news... I made a red velvet cake last night for my coworkers. Tensions have been high around the office, mostly because of the renovations.

It took me two and a half hours, but at 1 a.m., I put the finishing touches on my cake ... and proceeded to watch the bottom layer collapse just enough for the middle and top layers to slide precariously to one side. I was too tired to fix it, so I threw my hands in the air (waved them like I didn't care) and went to bed. All in all, my slightly lopsided cake wasn't the prettiest in the world, but it tasted damn good, if I do say so myself.

It's a secret family recipe. Actually, I can't even call it a secret family recipe, because it was solely Aunt Linda's until I got married. The recipe was part of my wedding gift. As far as I know, her own son and his wife don't have a copy.

Anyway, Paul requested Aunt Linda make a really big red velvet cake as the groom's cake at the wedding, and I think it went faster than the wedding cake. Carrie will vouch that it's just that good.

Problem is that it's completely from scratch -- no cake mixes or tubs of Duncan Hines frosting. And that means it takes a long time to put together. Even more so when Chef Kate forgets to preheat the oven. (Hey, cut me some slack. I know how to cook -- pretty well, actually -- but the motto around our house is "Better living through take-out.")

The next time one of my blog buddies is breezing through Memphis, I'll make sure to bake one. But don't expect me to be like Duke, the dog who's always trying to give away the recipe to Bush's Baked Beans. Because, dude, wild horses couldn't drag this one out of me.

But I will enlighten you with the keywords from my spam mail. It's the least I can do.