Bro Strider (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
plushrumpus) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sirenspull2012-05-15 02:11 pm
plushrumpus) wrote in sirenspull2012-05-15 02:11 pm
003 // VIDEO // BACKDATED TO THE 14TH
[Afternoon, Siren's Port. Today you're getting a shot from what appears to be the kitchen of the Strider apartment, with one eldest Strider front and center in his usual clothes, plus one Cookie Monster apron complete with giant googly eyes and Cal with his arms wrapped over his shoulders. Nothing all that ordinary.
Except for the part where Bro doesn't actually cook, as is probably evident by all the non-food preparation items littering the room. Meaning this can only end well.]
Sup to my fellow Port residents, and welcome to Cooking with the Striders, shitty title I made up just now pending. Today was going to be the day I unloaded some sickwicked 411 on how to make nothing but the illest of sheet cakes. Shit, who doesn't like that, right? Great for any occasion and delicious to boot. But if you're like me and have puppets for baking assistants, that don't always go so well. [Bro leans to the side and jerks his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to a still-smoking, charred monstrosity in a cake pan on the table on the other side of the room.] Needless to say, the guy in charge of timers has since been demoted to oven mitt. [Shrug.] That's just how we fuckin' do in my kitchen.
[He then resumes his spot, blocking the view of the table, as well as the smoke detector on the wall above it with a throwing knife lodged in it for what are probably self-explanatory reasons.] Sorry to say, that footage has since been deemed as "inappropriate for broadcast," we're just gonna say fuck that and jump right to the fun part.
[Something in those words triggers several items to pop out of his sylladex, of which he swiftly catches. In one hand, rests a plain white store-bought cake. In the other, several colors of spray icing.]
Some may call this cheating. I just call it idiot-proof. [He then sets the cake down, pops the lid off, and sets to work spraying patterns all over the edges.] And by idiot-proof, I really mean puppet-proof. No offense, Lil' Cal. [Bro turns his head and briefly offers a grin to where the puppet in question looks like he's peering over his other shoulder.] It's cool, he knows it ain't personal.
[Once the cake looks sufficiently scribbled-on from this angle, he then turns to the center of it, of which has left blank.] Now if you wanna personalize it further and write something out, you gotta keep a real steady hand so it don't look like shit. Trust me, lettering is a bitch. [Which, surprisingly or not, he's actually pretty good at doing. Yay for excellent fine motor skills.]
Now, last step in my case is to get my crown- [Bro sets down his icing and reaches off screen for a moment to grab what appears to be an ornate plastic gold crown that he himself has customized with stick-on rainbow rhinestones spelling out "DOUCHE" in big capital letters. His expression is straight through and through as he sets it over his trademark grey cap, where it sits surprisingly well.] By the way, today's show is dedicated to my lil' bro. I mean, I kinda wanted it to be a surprise for when he gets home from his date, but what the hell, right?
[He lifts and tilts the cake up for his viewers to see, finally, now covered in multi-colored flowers and squiggles and hearts. In the middle is playful script reading the following:]
Not like it fuckin' matters, but hey, this probably means my future nieces and nephews are gonna be at least twenty-five percent more anime if the dog girl thing is hereditary. So this is for you, Dave. For real, I'm proud of you. She's a keeper.
Except for the part where Bro doesn't actually cook, as is probably evident by all the non-food preparation items littering the room. Meaning this can only end well.]
Sup to my fellow Port residents, and welcome to Cooking with the Striders, shitty title I made up just now pending. Today was going to be the day I unloaded some sickwicked 411 on how to make nothing but the illest of sheet cakes. Shit, who doesn't like that, right? Great for any occasion and delicious to boot. But if you're like me and have puppets for baking assistants, that don't always go so well. [Bro leans to the side and jerks his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to a still-smoking, charred monstrosity in a cake pan on the table on the other side of the room.] Needless to say, the guy in charge of timers has since been demoted to oven mitt. [Shrug.] That's just how we fuckin' do in my kitchen.
[He then resumes his spot, blocking the view of the table, as well as the smoke detector on the wall above it with a throwing knife lodged in it for what are probably self-explanatory reasons.] Sorry to say, that footage has since been deemed as "inappropriate for broadcast," we're just gonna say fuck that and jump right to the fun part.
[Something in those words triggers several items to pop out of his sylladex, of which he swiftly catches. In one hand, rests a plain white store-bought cake. In the other, several colors of spray icing.]
Some may call this cheating. I just call it idiot-proof. [He then sets the cake down, pops the lid off, and sets to work spraying patterns all over the edges.] And by idiot-proof, I really mean puppet-proof. No offense, Lil' Cal. [Bro turns his head and briefly offers a grin to where the puppet in question looks like he's peering over his other shoulder.] It's cool, he knows it ain't personal.
[Once the cake looks sufficiently scribbled-on from this angle, he then turns to the center of it, of which has left blank.] Now if you wanna personalize it further and write something out, you gotta keep a real steady hand so it don't look like shit. Trust me, lettering is a bitch. [Which, surprisingly or not, he's actually pretty good at doing. Yay for excellent fine motor skills.]
Now, last step in my case is to get my crown- [Bro sets down his icing and reaches off screen for a moment to grab what appears to be an ornate plastic gold crown that he himself has customized with stick-on rainbow rhinestones spelling out "DOUCHE" in big capital letters. His expression is straight through and through as he sets it over his trademark grey cap, where it sits surprisingly well.] By the way, today's show is dedicated to my lil' bro. I mean, I kinda wanted it to be a surprise for when he gets home from his date, but what the hell, right?
[He lifts and tilts the cake up for his viewers to see, finally, now covered in multi-colored flowers and squiggles and hearts. In the middle is playful script reading the following:]
Not like it fuckin' matters, but hey, this probably means my future nieces and nephews are gonna be at least twenty-five percent more anime if the dog girl thing is hereditary. So this is for you, Dave. For real, I'm proud of you. She's a keeper.
no subject
it had nothing to do with the shipping chart!!
as a matter of fact it has nothing to do with YOU either
no subject
IT HAS EVERYTHING TO DO WITH ME.
IT'S ONLY RIGHT THAT WE FIX THE OTHER HALF OF MY SHIPPING CHART.
no subject
if youd thought about personalities or what we like or dislike at all
or had done anything besides making stupid shipping charts and showing it to one or two people
MAYBE then you couldve taken some credit
but not really even then!!!
no subject
HERE LET ME DRAW YOU ANOTHER ONE TO PROVE IT'S EXISTENCE.
[ he's getting desperate, maybe. LET HIM BE RIGHT. ]
no subject