gif: special occasion

In the early 1980s, Niki Novak’s sister bit into a cake shaped like a man’s, um, member. It was disgusting. It wasn’t the idea of the cake she found distasteful, mind you, but its actual flavor.

When Novak heard about the incident from her sister, she wondered: Why couldn’t you make risqué cakes that tasted good, too?

Thus was born Sweet n’ Nasty, a Boston bakery that specializes in confections shaped like boobs, butts and vaginas, as well as an alarming array of penises. While bachelorette parties are a natural source of business, you’d be surprised by how many other events the bakery has catered over the past 35 years.

Think birthdays, divorces, vasectomies, breast implants, job changes, prison releases, military deployments and even some bachelor parties. (“May your genitalia never fail ya.”)

Kinky Cakes: Inside The World Of Adult Bakeries

Photo: Courtesy of Sweet n’ Nasty Bakery

8

Happy Birthday, Sophie Hunter! (March 16 1978)

24

I turned 24 on Monday. A lovely birthday in every right. I skipped work and made peach pancakes, went to yoga, ate pupusas and saw the Kerry James Marshall show at MOCA, which was as good as everyone claimed. I walked down to the flower district and bought a snake plant and took the bus home and drank a lot of peach sangria and ate chocolate cake. I wore my hair in two braids pinned in a crown around my head, and my favorite earrings, the ones that look like contour drawings of hands. Sam and I’s birthdays are one day apart, a fact we tell everyone. I’ve written that here before and I am writing it again. It doesn’t have much relevance to anything, but it delights us, and that alone seems like a good enough reason.

Every year on my birthday I feel like I should write something. The words for these posts don’t come as easily as my annual Thanksgiving and New Years ones, come June 19th I draw a blank. If I must, I would say 23 was a year of building. 22 was a year of leaving, of gathering the courage to do something new, to move forward. 23 required me to gather the courage to stay, the bravery to build a life. To say, I care and I want you to care too. I’ve built a life in LA, and I still feel surprised by it. I look around and realize I have friends, I have an art practice, I have dental insurance, I have half a dozen houseplants that are downright thriving,  a burgeoning art collection I’m excited to expand. I feel surprised and lucky, but I shouldn’t, because I worked so hard to get here. I tried so hard, and I still can’t believe it paid off.