My lunch smells like dog butt.

Yesterday, I made a "total meal" salad which comprised tuna, chick peas, broccoli, and egg whites (all tossed in a lemon vinaigrette):


When I opened the container at lunchtime, the boyfriend thought that Bodger had farted in the kitchen. Awesome. The scent of my lunch recalls the sulfurous compounds expelled from my dog's bum.

I took this as a sign from the Powers Above that I should bake something delicious and not butt-scented.

Enter Evil Pound cake.


Evil pound cake contains six eggs, three cups of sugar, one package of (full-fat) cream cheese, and three sticks of butter. (Oh, and some flour and vanilla.) According to the nutrition facts, 1/12th of the cake has 614 calories.

The recipe describes this cake:

"It's the kind of cake that you want to stick your face in the pan and never come up for air."

And what's the best thing to do with Evil Pound cake? Obviously, top it with homemade raspberry sauce and freshly whipped cream:


Empirical studies (=my scale reading this morning) suggests that this is not, in fact, evil pound cake, but rather, evil 2.6-pound cake.

Fortunately, I pounded out a decent six-miler in a wayward attempt at contrition:

• Mile 1 - 9:55
• Mile 2 - 9:34
• Mile 3 - 9:25
• Mile 4 - 9:20
• Mile 5 - 8:55
• Mile 6 - 8:38

Yay, negative splits!

In closing, here is Mr. Stinky-Bum himself: