The last of a dying breed.
This is the birthday cake that my parents got for me.
I don’t know about you, but as a 22-year-old man, the idea of eating Justin Bieber’s face is something that appeals to me in both sexual and non-sexual ways that I don’t think I’ll ever fully comprehend.
In case you’re wondering, this is what he tastes like: ice cream, fudge, Oreos and inevitable diarrhea.
And now, just in time to prevent you from eating lunch, I give you: Justin Buscemi.
You’re welcome. Now you don’t have to sit at Panera and listen to that ball of split ends from Accounting tell you about how she finally finished The Lovely Bones over the weekend and it, like, touched her, y’all. Then she’d spray you with focaccia crumbs while explaining why the story of poor little Susie Salmon made her change her life and start recycling and no, her daughter will NOT be trick-or-treating this year.