2011 has turned out to be a very violent year for me. I started my honest to goodness fight club back in January, and for my birthday I decided that i wanted nothing more than to get together as many of my friends as possible and have an epic cake battle for the record books.

 


 

 

The idea started when I was watching a silent movie where a character got a pie in the face. i thought “I’ve never had someone smush a pie in my face. i need to do that. Wait! What if it was cake instead of pie? With pie you only get one shot, but with cake you can do handfuls and it will be messier and last a lot longer!” And lo, the idea of the cake battle twas borne.



 

 

We held it at a neighborhood park  on Lucerne, specifically chosen for its slightly hidden location, since we didn’t want to attract any unwanted pigs who may not see the fun in hurling pastry at your nearest and dearest. Everyone was to bring their own  weapon, and we ended up with about 30 cakes in all. Most brought sheet cakes, which mean they had a lot of ammo to deal with. We, of course, tasted all of the weaponry before the battle began – the cakes would be wasted, but I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to gorge on them first!

 


 

 

It began, as skirmishes often do, with no announced start. A soldier got too excited and fired without permission, and then there was no stop to the violence. I picked up my cake and ran out onto the battlefield, but my first step landed in frosting and i slipped and fell forward, cake flipping up out of my hands and landing face down in the grass, with me on top of it. Not an auspicious beginning to any battle. As I frantically got to my feet and scooped up what cake I could from the ground, I heard a bezerk war cry of “JULIA!!” from several voices, and the next thing I knew, cake was being shoved harshly into my face. For the next few seconds, my whole world was cake. In my eyes. As far up my nose as possible. My mouth was shoved full of the stuff. I WAS cake. As soon as I recovered, I retaliated as best i could. There seemed to be far less throwing and far more shoving in faces than I had anticipated,  but there are no rules to war.

 


 


I regret injuring several friends with chunks of a red velvet that was particularly dense, but once you taste the heady brew of war, your animal instincts take over. Just as I was running out of ammo, my friend Anne arrived with a lovely cake that she had painstakingly baked herself. I ran over and snatched the cake off of the tray, running back towards the battlefield. “Take a bite first!” was Anne’s cry. Reloaded, I was able to best some of my opponents who had foolishly used up their weaponry.

 


While there were no winners to this epic battle, I think it is fair enough to say that we all ended up as champions. The aftermath was brutal – tired and out of breath, the soldiers limped back to home base, covered head to toe in the spoils of war. I was as pleased as punch. To have friends who will succumb to my insane party ideas – nay, not just succumb but relish! – and really give it their all. It warms the cockles of the heart. Thank you so much to all who came and supported me in my birthday madness. You have all proved to be worthy opponents.