The Surfing Pizza One Year Birthday Party


I started The Surfing Pizza one year ago. Thank you so much for reading, and for coming along on the ride. Doing Surfing Pizza is awesome. I love dreaming up new Surfing Pizza material each week—a place for stories, nostalgia, spontaneous fun, evil plans, photographing ugly pieces of chocolate, placing toys in compromising positions, and a place for some crap.

To celebrate this milestone, I came up with an idea for the cake with EVERYTHING. I envisioned a six year old’s dream cake, spackled with gobs of frosting and loaded with cake-toppers. With a budget of twenty bucks, I hit up some party sections at stores such as Dollar Tree, Party City, and Michael’s. But I severely underestimated the cost of cake toppers—and in my pure zeal for the cake with everything, I easily ended up over budget. After buying all the ingredients and novelties, I could have done so much else with that money. Like throw a party for an actual child.

I was looking forward to making this cake and I even mentioned it to my Mom when she asked what my weekend plans were. My sole Saturday night plans were the cake. That afternoon, I arrived at the girlfriend’s house with a big bag full of cake stuff. Her roommates asked what the occasion was, and sheepishly I explained that it was for my blog’s one year birthday, spitting out the word “blog” quickly and hoping they wouldn’t notice I’d said it in the first place.

“What kind of cake?” they asked.


The girlfriend did all of the baking and frosting stuff. I just waited around for my chance to spray the cake pink.


Color Mist sounded awesome in the store, and I’d stood there for several minutes trying to calculate which color would provide the maximum amount of spraying satisfaction. Blue mist sounded pedestrian and green mist seemed so overused. Yellow mist doesn’t sound like any fun. But pink mist? That made my heart sing.


It’s just food coloring in an aerosol can, but especially when you put it like that, it sounds genius. You could make just about any product better by making it sprayable.

The mist smelled like paint. My stomach was already starting to hurt, just knowing that later, I would ingest this. My stomach was trying to get out of digesting pink mist by faking some cramping, but I wasn’t buying it. You’ll pull your weight around here, stomach, just as much as the kidneys and liver.

Next I added sprinkles.


The entire bottle.


Our whole lives we’re taught that less is more and that modesty is a virtue. Society looks down upon the overuse of sprinkles. Society labels them “sprinkles”, holding them back from “shining.” For so long, cake and ice cream get the center stage, and sprinkles only the supporting role for a dash of color. But I’m challenging these perceptions. Sprinkles will stand up.

They’re no longer just for decoration. They are for roughage.

There was another product I fell in love with at the store, Sparkle Gel.



Sparkly food. Ingestable glitter. Possibly parts fiberglass. This cake decorating thing is a blast.

Next I had the cadillacs of cake toppers:


Branded candy pieces. These were the things you saw in the store when you a kid and just longed to have. At least I did. They looked like toys, but they were candy. It combined my two favorite things, candy and toys. I could play with them, and then I could savor them one by one, like potato chips. But life is unfair, I was never alllowed to eat a package of cake toppers alone in my bedroom.

I wasn’t missing anything though, since I found out they’re actually the flavor of cardboard. And they’re a bitch to peel off the paper backing—


At this point, I had used up my allowance in the budget for more expensive cake toppers, so I also went with some generic clowns and some cheesy-looking party toothpicks.

But then I saw one more thing that I needed to have on my cake, pushing me over the budget for good:


Naked girls with pick axes coming out of their lower halves. I got these at Michael’s, a craft store, and I think you’re supposed to sew dresses for them. But I just loved them for their strange, plastic nakedness.

Here is the cake with girls, Autobots, robots, clowns, and swirly toothpicks:


Then I had a moment of divine inspiration with the color mist:


This is some Carrie pig blood action. This is some psycho-beach-party-devil’s-rock-n-roll-punk pop art. This is some Yoko Ono concept piece. This is the cake. WITH EVERYTHING.

Finally, we topped it off with birthday candles—a Superman candle, a Nascar trophy, some shooting stars, and #1:



Punching ET looks hungover, but that’s just because he’s being propped up by a bottle stuck up his puppet parts.

I quickly blew out the candles because the cake with everything was a fire hazard. There was a direct line of flammability from the leaning Superman candle to the Carrie chick to the Shoney’s Bear. The last thing you’d hear would be WHOOSH.


Here’s proof that we ate the cake. The girlfriend loved her piece, but I couldn’t finish mine. She didn’t eat any of the WALL-E’s or Transformers because they had paper backing stuck to all them. However I insisted it was part of the cake experience, paper and all.

Then there were the sprinkles—truly, an ungodly amount. Nevermind that previous stuff about a sprinkles revolution. There’s a reason they’re called sprinkles. You’re trying to enjoy some cake but your mouth is navigating a sea of tiny balls. It was gritty. The mist was painty. And the 48 pieces of plastic that had poked into the cake left an aftertaste.

But here’s further proof that we ate the cake, and not that you would even doubt this on Surfing Pizza. I had a bizarre incident that night, no doubt a result of eating the cake. I woke up in the middle of the night, leaping out the bed, distressed and sweating. When the girlfriend asked what was wrong, I said I had a bad dream. When she asked what the dream was, I said, “points.”


“Scary points.”

“That makes no sense. What are you trying to say?”

“Points. Like home runs, or touchdowns.”


“I can’t think of the right word for it.”

And then I fell back asleep.

Well that’s one year. Thanks, girlfriend, for being my enabler. And again, thanks to you for reading and for sharing your own comments, fun, and nostalgia with me.

17 thoughts on “The Surfing Pizza One Year Birthday Party

  1. Happy Birthday, blog!

    And thank you, Surfing Pizza, for following me on Twitter. I would have never discovered what may be my new favourite blog had you not.

  2. Wow, that cake is awesome despite the fact that I got epileptic seizures by looking at it.

    So. Much. Visual. Input.

    Congrats on the anniversary…Here’s to keeping up the funny for another year!

  3. Happy Birthday, Surfing Pizza!

    I forget what I was googling when I first found your blog, but I would up on the post where you’re wearing a giant troll doll head. I thought, Okay. Now I get it. This is why people read blogs.

    Thanks for a super entertaining year. You celebrated in style for sure. And your mom is truly awesome!

  4. Happy Birthday surfing Pizza, and thanks for sharing the delights of tacky t-shirts, creepy dollar stores, and random junk.

    Truly, you are an enlightener.

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