“Sarah, you need to calm yourself down, Love-Biscuit. We both know that it’s impossible to extinguish the burning brush of young love. If Levi and Bristol are determined to make a go of their relationship, no amount of campaigning to the contrary will make a difference,” I said to Sarah Palin on speaker phone while I cracked eggs into my cake batter.
I was baking a cake for Lindsay Lohan. She really loves my Red Velvet Surprise – the surprise being a delicious center filling of Ghiradelli’s chocolate and Adderall. She requested it to sooth her nerves on the eve of her 90-day jail term that began today. She’s like a daughter to me, that one. So I was more than happy to appeal to her sweet tooth during these dark times. And by sweet tooth, of course I mean drug habit.
Poor dear Sarah was riled up after hearing the news that her daughter had reconnected with her baby daddy – and the two were planning to marry. They are also shopping around for a reality series to document their newlywed antics. It isn’t as though either one of them are qualified for much else these days – and the bills must be paid if they ever hope to build a college fund for little baby Tripp. And by college fund, of course I mean rehab.
“I really think you’re underestimating the power of their bond,” I continued, mixing in sifted cocoa, “Show me one reality show couple who hasn’t represented all that is good and pure about love and marriage. Ozzie and Sharon Osbourne. Nick Lachey and Jessica Simpson. Vienna Girardi and Jake Pavelka. All shining examples of true love that serve as beacons to us all for what everlasting romance should look like over 18 episodes.”
At that point, Sarah put me on hold so she could shoot the beaver she’d been hunting in the woods all morning. I used it as an opportunity to click back to my phone sex date with Mel Gibson. When I clicked over, he was still screaming.
“Uh huh, yeah baby,” I breathed in monotone, “Yes, of course you deserve to be blown. Yes. Yes. I am a gold-digging whore. Yes. Hey honey, can you hang on a sec – I need to reattach my nipple clamps…they’ve come loose. Oh I’m such a bad boy!”
Our phone sex trysts have been getting rather intense of late. There is just something INSANE about his delivery these days that makes going to confession at the Catholic church more graphically descriptive – and my priest seems to really enjoy that.
I clicked back over to Sarah only to hear her giggling with loud gunshots in the background. My baking assistant, Betty White decided to help by adding two cups of rum to the cake batter.
“For the last time, Betty – this is NOT a rum cake!” I snapped, slapping her hand with my mixing spoon. “You never mix uppers with downers! That is the first thing they teach you in culinary pharmacy school! This cake has to be perfect for my baby-girl Lilo. Now hand me a pack of those Marlboro Reds. I’ll bake those in too so my little pumpkin has something to exchange for pills and lesbian sex.”
Over martinis and a joint, Betty and I spent the remainder of the afternoon icing the cake with my special cream cheese hydracodone frosting. Betty is really quite good at cake decorating, if you didn’t know. It’s fascinating to watch as she forms perfect borders of ribbons and pills – finishing it off with an even sprinkling of powdered sugar. At least I think it’s powdered sugar.
Unfortunately, the joint gave us both the munchies by the early evening – and we ended up eating the cake meant for dear Lilo. It’s just as well. It’s a smoke free jail anyway.
Love ya like prescription strength cake,
Link to Bristol/Levi Story: http://tvwatch.people.com/2010/07/20/bristol-palin-levi-johnston-reality-show-deal/
Link to Lindsay Lohan Jail Story: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/07/20/lindsay-lohan-surrenders-_n_652638.html
Link to Mel Gibson scandal: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/07/20/mel-gibsons-alleged-tripl_n_652352.html