Well Met, Helmet

Apparently, there was a football game over the weekend. Or something. And while I care slightly less about football than I do about squirrel husbandry, I figured now would be a good time to talk to you about protection.

Er, of your heads, I mean. Not my squirrels' nuts. (Those are in the shed. Next to the zippers.)

So...helmets! For your heads! Except the cake ones, of course, which are for your mouth!

It's actually really hard to make a cake that looks like a helmet. There are all the doodads and thingamajigs and whoosywhatsits, and if you're not careful it just looks like a heap a' flimflam jibber jabber!

(Wow. I just turned into my grandfather)

First, let's have Mr. Floopers model a real football helmet for us:

"I hate you."

See? It's simple. Just wrap your cat in a towel, and you can get almost anything on his head.

Oh, and the helmet is pretty easy, too.

In fact, when you break it down artistically, you can see that it's really just a big tombstone with a snail on it:

RIP, Ravens.

Or a one-tentacled jellyfish:

Make sure your helmets are well-rounded, though.

"Comb the dessert!"

A well-executed cupcake cake (hooy-patooty!) is great for crushing the other team's spirit.

"Choppin' broccoli!
I'm choppin' brocolay-hay!
I'm choppin' broccoli!"

Why, just look at the terror in their eyes:

Or you could confuse them with the abstract method:

"And that little pile of poo is a fleur de lis!"

[other team's minds exploding]

You could also try a little more Sparta than Super Bowl:

Hey, a football field is 300 feet.

And remember, when all else fails, try the ultimate offensive play:

Peeping Tom Brady. [shudder]

Thanks to Tim M., Cassidy S., Hunter F., Molly M., Erica B., Dena G., Amy K., & Lisa K., who think someone really should tell Giselle.

Sick as a Dog

We've learned from a recent survey that 76% of our readers get their news exclusively from Cake Wrecks and the Fun Facts on the underside of Snapple lids. So today, in Part 12 of our medical news series, "Congrats! You're Contagious!," we'll be teaching you how to recognize an onset of Rectal Arthritic Bubonic Inner Ear Scurvy (aka "R.A.B.I.E.S.") in your furry friend.

Stage 1: Upon initial infection, your dog may show unusual signs of perkiness and energy.

Sparky may even rummage through your holiday scrunchie drawer and attempt to accessorize.

Stage 2: Several minutes after becoming infected, your dog may appear nervous or scared.

Hiding behind word-shaped shrubbery is common.

Stage VII: R.A.B.I.E.S. will cause Munchkin's eyes to water and turn a slightly pinkish hue:

Also known as the "Tammy Faye Baker Phase."

Stage 6: Foaming at the mouth:

After eating poo.

Stage 6: Lashing out with erratic behavior.

Also known as the "Your Kid's Gonna Need Therapy" phase.

Stage F: Dry, patchy skin.

Accompanied by KISS makeup and a wang beard.

Stage 9: Inexplicable weight gain.

And loss of limbs and neck.

So be sure to keep an eye out for any signs that your little Gnarls Barkley may be infected. After all, you don't want to experience the final phase of the R.A.B.I.E.S. virus:

Total protonic reversal.

Yeah. That's bad.

Thanks to Megan, Anna M., Katy P., Angela L., Jason, Stephanie A., Ashley J., Tiffany H., and Alexander B. Now stay tuned for parts 13 and 14 in our medical series: "Lady Lumps," and "Chlamydi-huh?"