A while back, I got put in charge of my brother-in-law’s bachelor party. I wanted to have this woman jump out of a cake but things didn’t go too well. The cake itself was fine … about fifty pounds of flour, a gross of eggs, enough icing to choke an anaconda – and I had to use one of those industrial-strength ovens, the kiln type they fire up huge ceramics in. The time and labor were incredible. Then, at the party, I wheel out the cake and – nothing. The lady didn’t jump out. Later, the ME said something about asphyxiation and being baked alive but all I know is everyone was pretty darn upset about the whole mishigas. And I never got asked to plan a bachelor party again.