What Really Grinds My Gears

You Know What Really Grinds My Gears (named after the segment on Family Guy, of course) is a new feature that will run whenever the fuck we want it to...but usually on a slow news day. It will focus on those pet peeves that, well, really grind your gears. It likely won't be sports-related. Fuck sports. This isn't a sports blog anyway...Oh. Right. Um, yeah, we'll see about making them sports-related. If you have any suggestions -- or would even like to guest write one! -- send your submissions to zachls5@gmail.com or Ballhype us or something Internet-y like that.

You know what really grinds my gears?

Fruit in the middle of a birthday cake.

Raspberry cake is red because it's from the devil

Fruit has its time and place. Like in a salad or in sorbet form. But when I have cake, I want fucking butter and lard and cream and chocolate and sometimes vanilla and lots of fucking colored frosting. No part of me wants to even think about fruit.

Cake is perhaps the best desert of them all. I fucking love cake. I used to celebrate my half birthday because it meant my parents getting me a second cake a year. And not that fancy shit with like white chocolate and marzipan. I want my fucking cake covered in rainbow frosting. No. Rainbow frosting is not gay. Or maybe it is. I don't care. It brings me to a happy place, so fuck you.

Care Bears cake is also awesome and totally not gay

Talk about ruining something that's great. Putting fruit in the middle of a birthday cake is like raisins in oatmeal cookies, a shemale in a porno, having to wear a condom during head.

I've been having a lot of cake lately because I fucking love cake and cake fucking loves me. I've celebrated a lot of birthdays in the last two weeks and three of the four cakes I've eaten lately had fruit in them.

One was this huge, white-frosting number from Costco. It looked pretty bomb with all sorts of colored frosting and shit, but then I cut in and I'm slapped across the face with a hand of deceit and betrayal. I didn't do anything to that cake. Why did it have to do something to me?

So fuck you, fruit-filled cake. May you be poisoned by your worthless product.

And that, people, is what really grinds my gears.