saturday night

All posts tagged saturday night

Yeah, I like cake, all different kinds.

Published August 14, 2012 by Sandee

Since I could get sued for using other people’s google images – they shouldn’t put them up there if they don’t want people using them – anyway – I got scared and ripped down every image I had that belonged to someone else.  I read about this in Jennifer Eaton’s post.  But see those cakes at the side-bar?  I needed them.  They’re just too pretty.  It was love at first sight when I saw them.

I absolutely must have cake on my site.  I’ve got to have it!  And they must be pretty, but those pink cakes weren’t on the free site.  So on the free site I looked for pink cakes to complement my blog, but it was a free site, so they looked like free site cakes of course.  I had an idea.  “I’ll contact the people who took the pictures, the people who baked the cakes.  I’ll say to them, Puulllease, I’ll do anything to have those cakes. I must have those cakes.”

I went to their sites and posted my request in their comment sections, telling them that I would for certain refer back to their sites if they allowed me the privilege of posting their cakes. Ah, they ain’t gonna get back to me I thought.  The day after I posted my request, both lovely ladies responded, saying they had absolutely no problem with me posting their cakes!

So there they are!  But.  I wondered.  They gave me permission but I didn’t think to ask if perhaps I should get permission from the photographers if they didn’t take their own pictures. But you know what fuck it!  I’m keeping them – they said I could!  If I see more cakes I like, I know I can contact the owners.  This’ll be my new pastime on a Saturday night – trolling the web for cake!

Aside from the fact that I’m giving them free advertising, does anyone see any problems with this?  This is one of those things where I feel like I might be missing something.

Here’s cake passion in my fiction:

An excerpt from my short story Doody Lady:  “I grabbed the cake and relished it, suppressing my urge to get up and hump at the air in a feigned fucking of the cake, or to moan and to close my eyes rapturously behind each forkful of thick, white frosting.”

Another excerpt from that story:  “Fuck dinner – give me cake, cake with thick buttery frosting three inches high!”