It's 1:30 in the morning, I am coming off of a mild drunk (a social drunk, thanks, not an “I'm alone and depressed and I've had two pints tonight” drunk), and there's a lot of food in the house. In the interest of sportsmanship, I am offering y'all a chance to bet:

My kitchens contains the top tier of a marble wedding cake with real buttercream frosting, a freshly roasted and positively delicious turkey, and several crispy ready-to-heat frozen pizzas. In a fair fight, which item wins?

Answers tomorrow. Betting starts at ten squillion calories.


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