The Weird Part of the Internet: Gender Cakes

You know you should probably just go to sleep when you've reached the bizarre depths of cyberspace and have gotten to the weird part of the internet aka TWPOTI. 

Does that usually stop me? No. Do I typically fall further into a trance-like state where I become completely consumed by the wacky and strange train wreck that I have deemed internet-gold? Absolutely. 

For this week's TWPOTI I would like to focus on a spectacular kind of YouTube video that seems to have become quite a phenomenon amongst expecting mothers: gender cake videos. What is a gender cake you might ask? A gender cake or a gender reveal as some call it, is a cake baked with a blue or pink inside to indicate whether the expecting parents are having a girl or a boy. How it all goes down - typically the parents to be give a copy of their ultrasound to a baker (not seen in the video) and then mommy and daddy dramatically cut into the cake in front of their entire family to reveal that they're having a little Jane or Johnny. Then I would guess that they eat the cake but usually there's too much shrieking and crying for the family to film that part. Aside from the obvious blunder/confusion about gender vs. sex, I am fascinated by the pure creepiness of using a cake, a dessert item that you eat, to deliver information about your future child's genitals. Not that I expect much in the "tone down the smugness" or "lack of cliches" department (see this lovely tune by Garfunkel and Oates), but what ever happened to good old email or telephone to deliver the news? So without further ado, I present the best of gender cake videos:

Despite the sheer number of gender reveal videos, most people still haven't figured out to cut a corner of the cake so it's easier to see...

The kid in the Spongebob shirt is pretty much going to be a superstar, I can tell.

This family is so excited about their cake reveal they forget their screaming will scare the baby, you know, the one that's actually born.

Wedding/cake reveal double whammy.

This week's TWPOTI wouldn't be complete without an epic cake fail.

Basically my feelings on gender cakes can be summed up in one picture from Monty Python's The Meaning of Life:

"Phyllida Barlow: siege" at The New Museum

The New Museum of Contemporary Art in New York City via Guardian.


Going to museums is one of those things most New Yorkers say they wish they'd do more often. And the first thing you should know is that I am not exempt from most New Yorkers. Yesterday I actually remembered that the New Museum has its free hours from 6-9pm on Thursdays. Actually that's a complete lie, the New Museum's Twitter reminded me because I am entirely dependent on social media to know where I should be and when. 

“Phyllida Barlow: siege,” 2012. Exhibition view: New Museum. Photo: Benoit Pailley.


The "Phyllida Barlow: siege" exhibit on the fourth floor was probably my favorite of what was on view. The sculptures right when you get out of the elevator looked like magnets (yes, I made an ICP joke at the museum and we can't be friends if you don't know what joke I'm talking about). They were pretty jarring because of their size. If art could puff up its chest and come at you bro, these guys would.

"Phyllida Barlow: siege," 2012. exhibition view: New Museum. Photo: Benoit Pailley.

There was also a hanging sculpture or death trap as I lovingly called it that was very disconcerting. I walked under it with no worries because I'm still in that "nothing can hurt me because I am invincible" phase of life. Typically what I look for at a New Museum exhibit is artwork that looks like a rainbow threw up on itself or work that makes me fear for my life. The New Museum usually succeeds at both. Pretty consistently so, in fact. Take Carsten Höller's slide at his solo exhibit that closed last January. I had to suit up in a helmet and burlap sack to drop down 3 stories through museum concrete. I haven't worn a helmet in years, not because I don't practice bicycle safety but because I can't really actually ride a bike (more on this later). And Lynda Benglis's show at the New Museum last year. You can't tell me this does not look like one of those memory candles you made for your best friend at her sweet sixteen. All it's missing is glitter (don't worry Lynda Benglis likes to get her glitter on too) and the letters "BFF," a stray maraschino cherry stem, and a picture of Leo DiCaprio cut out from a magazine.

Carsten Höller's slide at the New Museum.

Lynda Benglis at the New Museum.