Caker National Exhibition. Well, it’s really called the Canadian National Exhibition, but who are we kidding?
I didn’t go on the rides because nausea isn’t a turn on for me. I did, however, eat. Luckily, not a cronut burger. I was going to get one, but the line was too long and if there’s one thing cakers don’t do, it’s wait for our food. It defeats the purpose.
But here's everything I did eat. And yes, I had weird dreams that night.
This was only 99 cents. You couldn’t find a better deal for overcooked spaghetti and Primo sauce. They rip you off for cheese, though. It was 59 cents extra. No sprinkle of Kraft parameeshun is worth that. Just bring your own in a baggie.
These were okay, but they were a little boring. Plus, they were six bucks, which I thought was a little dear. It’s not like they had Nutella on them.
This was 99 cents. How does a 99-cent taco taste? Pretty much like you’d expect a 99-cent taco to taste.
It’s hard to eat a corn dog in public and not get a few winks from older gentlemen in Tilley hats. This was five dollars. The watered-down mustard was free.
I didn’t know what the heckadoodle this was but that’s never stopped me before. Turns out they pour Coke into batter, deep fry it, then sprinkle more Coke on top, along with icing sugar, whipped cream and maraschino cherries. I left behind two teeth when I was done. This cost six dollars.
I couldn't tell what I liked more – the hot, homemade waffle or the two-by-four of ice cream. This was $3.75.
The woman who served me said I could freeze the fudge to keep it longer. I was like, “Lady, I’ll be lucky if this fudge makes it to the parking lot, m'kay?” I bought Butterfinger, Oreo and Pumpkin Spice. Three pieces came to twelve dollars, which was a bit dear, but that’s fudge for you.
I didn’t eat these other things, but here they are:
I have a soft spot for lavender, but that’s likely because I get nostalgic for all the Wizard bathroom spray I inhaled growing up. This was five dollars.
Every caker with an in-ground pool has this sign. Guaranteed.
There’s no way I’m eating a chicken wiener rolled in chocolate, marshmallows and graham crackers. Unless you paid me, like, ten dollars.
I was going to play, but I was the only one there. Which means I would've been playing against myself. And I was too afraid of losing.
Why do I have the feeling my sausage would fall into the one-dollar category?