Cake. Yummy things. Once I ate a peice of cake that had like an inch of frosting on it. I just spelled piece wrong. Oh well. Anyways, the cake was weird. And it was shaped like a castle. I guess that makes it a little better. Sometimes I eat icing out of the container like a bad girl, but I try not to do it that often.
I shiver as I stare out the window. Distractedly, I run my fingers over the frost covered glass. I can’t seem to pull myself away, even though I know you’re gone. There’s nothing out there waiting for me, the snow just icing on a store bought cake, thrown together without anyone in particular in mind. “It isn’t personal,” you said.
the cake is yummy with the icing on it. although the dog might eat it and die, then i will have to pay for the vet. i say we juss kill the dog says his partner. no that dog was my partner before you says the
My hands couldn’t find any purchase. For a horrible moment, I was sliding down the sharp incline of the roof, scrabbling desperately for a handhold. From afar, the snow on the roof had looked thick and fluffy and harmless. Now that I was actually up here, I could see that a thin icing from yesterday’s rain had settled over the snow, making the surface hard and slick and impossible to hold as I slipped closer and closer to the edge and the dizzying drop below.
Icing on the cake. It always makes the sweet so much sweeter. It makes us appreciate that the good is great. I look to recognize when it’s better, sweeter, more intense, more fun, more beautiful, more sacred.
As we added the cream cheese icing to the cupcakes, a sudden thought struck me full in the temples and caused my ears to ring with the intonation of panic.
“Kristi.”
“What?”
I inhaled. “We forgot the red food coloring.”
I half-expected her to equally freak out in a similar, frozen manner – all in the eyes, not the body. But instead she laughed and kissed me on the cheek.
“That’s okay, dear,” she said. “We’ll call them ‘Just Velvet’ cupcakes.”
It’s the icing on the cake! They all ran down to the fields to eat the cake, but then it came. the cake monster! he chased everyone out of the cake party to the horrible dreaded pie fields. Every screamed, “No! Cake monster take us back to our home!”
on the cake. It always makes the sweet so much sweeter. It makes us appreciate that the good is great. I look to recognize when it’s better, sweeter more intense, more fun, more beautiful, more sacred.
“The icing on the cake. I didn’t understand what he meant the first time he said that. There was no cake, so how could there be frosting? Was it a metaphor? I didn’t understand those either! What was I to do?
I couldn’t just ask him to explain it — he would have laughed at me. I would have to just pretend I understood, and hope the words made sense when he showed me what he meant.” — Xira
The ice is really cold, like that movie the Ice age! It is really cute how people can use ice and do gun stuff with it. in brazil we dont have snow and i think its pretty cool how you can skii, and snow tubing and all kinds of stuff in the snow. Its sad we dont have it here, its fun even though its so cold. When its cold we dont even get out of our house.
Ah, the best part! Or the worst? Who is to tell? Is it my right to say that it is the best, that it is the final completing piece– that it is the unify-er and the beautifying treat to the end result? Or is it my right to say that it is unnecessary and superfluous and unneeded at all? Who is to tell, really, who is to tell?
frio, el frio interior nos carcome, nos hiela. dame un poco de tu calor para abrigarme, abrigarnos ambos con amor. que necesito un poco de cariño y calor con vos
I couldn’t get the icing out of the bag. I pushed and prodded at the plastic wrapping and even jabbed a knife into the little hole at the tip of the metal pen-like point, but it just wouldn’t budge. I ended up just cutting a whole into the bag on the side and pushing it out that way. This is how the cake ended up looking like something had exploded all over the chocolate and was left in some sort of post-apocalyptic gourmet window.
Icing. Geez, you know how hard it is when Ma bakes and there’s this giant bag of usually either banana cream, or some other delicious sweetness, just begging to get eaten?
As much as we love summer there is nothing better than a special night in winter, the icing in the mountains, the wind blowing through our jackets and the snow making it just perfect.
the beautiful white delicacy many fat americans or little children die for. The “icing” to the cake often refers to an additional suprise and or a positive bonus after an original posivitve event, action etc. it becomes too much to handle as you become older, until it is almost avoided entirely.
icing is like the tasty white stuff on top of unhealthy stuff. actually i dont like it. but its on top of tasty things. everytime. is it possible to have all these tasty thing without that crap? love all those things…
Her hands, slightly shaky from the latte she’d sipped as the cake baked, spread the light blue icing over the top of the chocolate cake. It was his favorite color, and while she knew he would have been happy with a simple chocolate cookie for his birthday, she wanted to make sure everything was just right. Slip, slop, over the top went the icing, around and around until the whole thing was finally coated all the way through.
Icing is thick and sweet and heavy. It’s pretty good, but it’s not the best part of the cake. The best part is between the icing and the cake. Some people would say that that part doesn’t exist, but I can tell you that it does; it’s a moist part of the cake that’s like a cake-icing pudding.
you bore me today, moon.
you white orb hanging in the universe.
A lackluster performance you give for me tonight,
No shine to your surface,
No clean, pale, icing-like substance gleans your surface,
And for that I cannot look upon you this night.
Cannot stare at the man there as i so often do.
Perhaps tomorrow will bear more beauty in you.
But for tonight, nothing.
the icing on the cake was pink – it was for the girls 6th birthday – she hadn’t really wanted the icing to be pink but that’s what her mum did for her. She would really have preferred purple icing as this was her favourite colour. but she’s a girl so
I lick the icing around the sides of cupcakes, but never completely off the top. I don’t like the way the cake part tastes without the icing. I think good cupcakes should be judged on whether or not the icing enhances the cake, and if not, it’s not a good cupcake (and not very good icing).
I don’t know why everyone seems to worry about whether or not to eat a cupcake. Honestly. Just eat the damn thing. You are beautiful, a cupcake won’t change that.
that’s the icing on the cake! I like the icing on the cake,,,I love cake. But I also like this expression. I like to know how things work or figure out what happen. And the icing on the cake means we figured it out!
icing is great, i am living in middle east so do not have any interaction with ice or icing actities, except in Dubai we have an indoor ski, my children also love ice and ask me to take them to a country where we can experience but i do not think i like to stay long in ice, as i do not like cold too much and it forece me to stay indoor.
There was a cake, it was bare. Where is the icing? Why hadn’t anyone taken the time to ice the cake? Icing is what completes something. “it’s the icing to the cake” goes the saying. If icing wasn’t important, why would there be a saying to express it’s importance. The cake is now unfinished. Incomplete. As is the majority of the teenage population. Without our icing, we’re just cakes. Incomplete.
She licked her finger. It was delicious. That wasn’t a surprise. Her heels sounded on the hardwood floor as she walked through streamers and fallen balloons. Everyone had gone but she knew he was still here. Biting the corner of her lip, she opened the door to the balcony and slid up behind him. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, kissing the center of his back through his shirt. “I didn’t know you had planned this…”
creamyyy filtering the layer of a cake, i like to see it on faces , sooo sweeeet yummy in my tummmy sugary right , just right lovable yummmy , puppies. good times, candles. birthday parties and a girls nice out with the cherry on top :)
That was the icing on the cake. “Just once more, and then we’re done.” Just once. You will use me ONCE more and then you’ll throw me out like trash for the last time. Just what I needed today.
i love icing, especially when it comes on top of a cake…or a cupcake. i love baked goods. baked goods make me smile. i also love baking baked goods and giving them to people and making them smile. if you don’t like baked goods and you’re not gluten intolerant, you’re a communist. nobody doesn’t like baked goods :o)
Icing. In the context of football clichés, which is rather my specialism, “icing” is used to indicate a goal that seals a team’s win beyond all doubt – the “icing on the cake”, implying a job done, but with a final flourish. Usually greeted with smug back-slapping rather than all-out ecstacy.
Because she couldn’t hold back any longer, she lifted the knife to her lips and licked, letting the thick icing of the cake coat her tongue. A sharp taste also stung her sensitive tongue but that couldn’t be helped. She grinned, and stepped over the body lying on the kitchen floor beside her. Good thing she had made red velvet.
It tastes delicious on top of any cake. Sometimes I it’s used with Marzipan, which is nice, on Christmas cake traditionally. I eat it sometimes, from the packet, or from the bowl, I have a sweet tooth. It makes the cake.
The icing on the cake was pink. Pink, like her favorite color, the one that she was told not to love by the spite of boys. A color she continued to love not because she was obligated to, but because the bold pink shine suited her oh so well. The icing was pink, while all her friends were blue, but they could never understand.
She smiled at me while she put the vanilla icing on the cupcake. It was nice, really, having her back, I missed her. But she wasn’t the same, something was different. Her smile didn’t quiet reach her eyes like they used to. I had her back, but I had lost the old her.
Cake. Yummy things. Once I ate a peice of cake that had like an inch of frosting on it. I just spelled piece wrong. Oh well. Anyways, the cake was weird. And it was shaped like a castle. I guess that makes it a little better. Sometimes I eat icing out of the container like a bad girl, but I try not to do it that often.
The icing on the cake. I don’t know why they make it sound so sweet. It’s more like the dagger in your back.
Icing. The stuff on cakes, and cupcakes, and all kinds of sweets. I hate the stuff. It’s too rich. It doesn’t even have it’s own flavor.
I shiver as I stare out the window. Distractedly, I run my fingers over the frost covered glass. I can’t seem to pull myself away, even though I know you’re gone. There’s nothing out there waiting for me, the snow just icing on a store bought cake, thrown together without anyone in particular in mind. “It isn’t personal,” you said.
the cake is yummy with the icing on it. although the dog might eat it and die, then i will have to pay for the vet. i say we juss kill the dog says his partner. no that dog was my partner before you says the
My hands couldn’t find any purchase. For a horrible moment, I was sliding down the sharp incline of the roof, scrabbling desperately for a handhold. From afar, the snow on the roof had looked thick and fluffy and harmless. Now that I was actually up here, I could see that a thin icing from yesterday’s rain had settled over the snow, making the surface hard and slick and impossible to hold as I slipped closer and closer to the edge and the dizzying drop below.
Icing on the cake. It always makes the sweet so much sweeter. It makes us appreciate that the good is great. I look to recognize when it’s better, sweeter, more intense, more fun, more beautiful, more sacred.
As we added the cream cheese icing to the cupcakes, a sudden thought struck me full in the temples and caused my ears to ring with the intonation of panic.
“Kristi.”
“What?”
I inhaled. “We forgot the red food coloring.”
I half-expected her to equally freak out in a similar, frozen manner – all in the eyes, not the body. But instead she laughed and kissed me on the cheek.
“That’s okay, dear,” she said. “We’ll call them ‘Just Velvet’ cupcakes.”
It’s the icing on the cake! They all ran down to the fields to eat the cake, but then it came. the cake monster! he chased everyone out of the cake party to the horrible dreaded pie fields. Every screamed, “No! Cake monster take us back to our home!”
on the cake. It always makes the sweet so much sweeter. It makes us appreciate that the good is great. I look to recognize when it’s better, sweeter more intense, more fun, more beautiful, more sacred.
“The icing on the cake. I didn’t understand what he meant the first time he said that. There was no cake, so how could there be frosting? Was it a metaphor? I didn’t understand those either! What was I to do?
I couldn’t just ask him to explain it — he would have laughed at me. I would have to just pretend I understood, and hope the words made sense when he showed me what he meant.” — Xira
The ice is really cold, like that movie the Ice age! It is really cute how people can use ice and do gun stuff with it. in brazil we dont have snow and i think its pretty cool how you can skii, and snow tubing and all kinds of stuff in the snow. Its sad we dont have it here, its fun even though its so cold. When its cold we dont even get out of our house.
Ah, the best part! Or the worst? Who is to tell? Is it my right to say that it is the best, that it is the final completing piece– that it is the unify-er and the beautifying treat to the end result? Or is it my right to say that it is unnecessary and superfluous and unneeded at all? Who is to tell, really, who is to tell?
frio, el frio interior nos carcome, nos hiela. dame un poco de tu calor para abrigarme, abrigarnos ambos con amor. que necesito un poco de cariño y calor con vos
foamy sweet lips
swallowed throatful of delight
too delightful to contain
dripping goodness from my confection
confection on confection
love
I couldn’t get the icing out of the bag. I pushed and prodded at the plastic wrapping and even jabbed a knife into the little hole at the tip of the metal pen-like point, but it just wouldn’t budge. I ended up just cutting a whole into the bag on the side and pushing it out that way. This is how the cake ended up looking like something had exploded all over the chocolate and was left in some sort of post-apocalyptic gourmet window.
Icing. Geez, you know how hard it is when Ma bakes and there’s this giant bag of usually either banana cream, or some other delicious sweetness, just begging to get eaten?
As much as we love summer there is nothing better than a special night in winter, the icing in the mountains, the wind blowing through our jackets and the snow making it just perfect.
the beautiful white delicacy many fat americans or little children die for. The “icing” to the cake often refers to an additional suprise and or a positive bonus after an original posivitve event, action etc. it becomes too much to handle as you become older, until it is almost avoided entirely.
icing is like the tasty white stuff on top of unhealthy stuff. actually i dont like it. but its on top of tasty things. everytime. is it possible to have all these tasty thing without that crap? love all those things…
Her hands, slightly shaky from the latte she’d sipped as the cake baked, spread the light blue icing over the top of the chocolate cake. It was his favorite color, and while she knew he would have been happy with a simple chocolate cookie for his birthday, she wanted to make sure everything was just right. Slip, slop, over the top went the icing, around and around until the whole thing was finally coated all the way through.
Icing is thick and sweet and heavy. It’s pretty good, but it’s not the best part of the cake. The best part is between the icing and the cake. Some people would say that that part doesn’t exist, but I can tell you that it does; it’s a moist part of the cake that’s like a cake-icing pudding.
you bore me today, moon.
you white orb hanging in the universe.
A lackluster performance you give for me tonight,
No shine to your surface,
No clean, pale, icing-like substance gleans your surface,
And for that I cannot look upon you this night.
Cannot stare at the man there as i so often do.
Perhaps tomorrow will bear more beauty in you.
But for tonight, nothing.
the icing on the cake was pink – it was for the girls 6th birthday – she hadn’t really wanted the icing to be pink but that’s what her mum did for her. She would really have preferred purple icing as this was her favourite colour. but she’s a girl so
Seeing you was really icing on the cake
I lick the icing around the sides of cupcakes, but never completely off the top. I don’t like the way the cake part tastes without the icing. I think good cupcakes should be judged on whether or not the icing enhances the cake, and if not, it’s not a good cupcake (and not very good icing).
She was down to the last cupcake when she stepped away to raise the volume of the radio.
And maybe that jinxed the extra year to come.
I don’t know why everyone seems to worry about whether or not to eat a cupcake. Honestly. Just eat the damn thing. You are beautiful, a cupcake won’t change that.
that’s the icing on the cake! I like the icing on the cake,,,I love cake. But I also like this expression. I like to know how things work or figure out what happen. And the icing on the cake means we figured it out!
icing is great, i am living in middle east so do not have any interaction with ice or icing actities, except in Dubai we have an indoor ski, my children also love ice and ask me to take them to a country where we can experience but i do not think i like to stay long in ice, as i do not like cold too much and it forece me to stay indoor.
There was a cake, it was bare. Where is the icing? Why hadn’t anyone taken the time to ice the cake? Icing is what completes something. “it’s the icing to the cake” goes the saying. If icing wasn’t important, why would there be a saying to express it’s importance. The cake is now unfinished. Incomplete. As is the majority of the teenage population. Without our icing, we’re just cakes. Incomplete.
She licked her finger. It was delicious. That wasn’t a surprise. Her heels sounded on the hardwood floor as she walked through streamers and fallen balloons. Everyone had gone but she knew he was still here. Biting the corner of her lip, she opened the door to the balcony and slid up behind him. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, kissing the center of his back through his shirt. “I didn’t know you had planned this…”
creamyyy filtering the layer of a cake, i like to see it on faces , sooo sweeeet yummy in my tummmy sugary right , just right lovable yummmy , puppies. good times, candles. birthday parties and a girls nice out with the cherry on top :)
That was the icing on the cake. “Just once more, and then we’re done.” Just once. You will use me ONCE more and then you’ll throw me out like trash for the last time. Just what I needed today.
i love icing, especially when it comes on top of a cake…or a cupcake. i love baked goods. baked goods make me smile. i also love baking baked goods and giving them to people and making them smile. if you don’t like baked goods and you’re not gluten intolerant, you’re a communist. nobody doesn’t like baked goods :o)
Icing. In the context of football clichés, which is rather my specialism, “icing” is used to indicate a goal that seals a team’s win beyond all doubt – the “icing on the cake”, implying a job done, but with a final flourish. Usually greeted with smug back-slapping rather than all-out ecstacy.
Because she couldn’t hold back any longer, she lifted the knife to her lips and licked, letting the thick icing of the cake coat her tongue. A sharp taste also stung her sensitive tongue but that couldn’t be helped. She grinned, and stepped over the body lying on the kitchen floor beside her. Good thing she had made red velvet.
It tastes delicious on top of any cake. Sometimes I it’s used with Marzipan, which is nice, on Christmas cake traditionally. I eat it sometimes, from the packet, or from the bowl, I have a sweet tooth. It makes the cake.
The icing on the cake was pink. Pink, like her favorite color, the one that she was told not to love by the spite of boys. A color she continued to love not because she was obligated to, but because the bold pink shine suited her oh so well. The icing was pink, while all her friends were blue, but they could never understand.
She smiled at me while she put the vanilla icing on the cupcake. It was nice, really, having her back, I missed her. But she wasn’t the same, something was different. Her smile didn’t quiet reach her eyes like they used to. I had her back, but I had lost the old her.