Finally. A teenager I can tolerate.
You know… instead of a BMW, a private concert by Kanye West, a lap dance from Lady Gaga, or whatever other bullshit spoiled teens demand from their parents these days.
To be fair, it’s not so much a “cake” as it is a bunch of Rice Krispie treats covered with fondant.
But I’m much better at handsomeness and fresh-smellingness than fairness. So… it’s a cake.
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