As a child growing up in a very violent neighborhood, I was constantly facing difficult problems, the majority of which dealt with me not being able to find myself. All things said, what six year-old white kid has a firm grip on his identity in the first place? I feel comfortable that many of you faced the same tribulations as myself growing up, so I am not embarrassed to share with you some of the identity crisis I faced in my youth — I had a dog phase, thought I was a Ninja turtle, and even convinced myself I was an under-appreciated artistic genius. These were only mild hurdles in my journey of self discovery, as the biggest challenge I faced was gender confusion.

My parents were always very supportive throughout my quest of self-recognition. They would let me eat my dinner on the floor and sharing it with Montana, our Rottweiler, God rest her soul, and let me crawl around the house in nothing but my weird Aunt Giovani’s bondage collar until I realized I wasn’t a puppy. For the Ninja Turtle stage, they let me walk around in my ‘Turtles in a half shell’ tighty whiteys with a plastic sword tucked through the elastic waste band. For the artist stage, my Mom was dedicated enough to leave me, a 4-year-old-kid, alone outside on our porch just long enough to tie the cord of my Playskool brand play kitchen’s phone around my neck and leap over the side. What the Hell were you thinking, Mom?

After a few months of intense prayer sessions with a homosexual Catholic Priest I was back home, this time facing a bigger demon than ever before. Her name was “Where’s my vagina?” Of course, my parents weren’t about to turn their backs on their twisted little son-daughter. To show their support they got me the only two things on my Christmas list that year. A box of tampons and an Easy-Bake Oven. Dad took it hard, but he stayed strong. This phase went on for some time, and needless to say it took its toll on my family.

But here we are, a month after that fateful Christmas, and I’m finally out of that stage. Half of my testicles have dropped and I have hair in places that would never grow on any woman (Roseanne Barr gets a pass). I feel like I’m finally settling in to my body. It took twenty long years, but I’m finally into the first few stages of puberty and I’m not looking back.

Wait… what was I supposed to be doing? Oh yeah! Easy-Bake Oven review!

In concept these things are great for little girls and gender confused boys. The idea is to have a product that requires little to no motor skills and is simple enough for a young child around the age 0f eight to be able to make tasty little treats for her and her friends at the sleepover. Just make sure this guy doesn’t try to crash the party.

In reality what you have is a complex and dangerous toy that requires constant adult supervision and assistance. So much for getting wasted and watching softcore porn while little Suzie and her fat little friends feed themselves cake. You’re going to have to be right there on the front lines, making sure none of the little twerps burn themselves and measuring liquid and shit.

And once you finally get the Confetti Dream Cake out of the other side of the oven you’re going to be hungry. Really hungry. And you’re going to want some of that cake you just wasted ten minutes on spending time with your daughter (or potentially gay son. Sorry, but you’ve got to face your problems head on) when you could’ve been wrist deep in the Vaseline while watching your favorite episode of The Story of O on Max After Dark. You disgust me.

Anyway, no cake for you. Little Suzie’s fat friend just ate the whole thing before you could even get the satisfaction of finishing the hockey puck-shaped dessert with the cheap icing. If you hit her you’ll go to jail, and you know deep down that child abuse won’t bring the cake back. Time to make another. And it’ll all be worth it when you get that “Best Dad Ever” mug this Christmas.

Final Words:

Get your kid a Barbie instead. You don’t need to help her when she’s in the bathroom shoving her finger down her throat and filling her training bra with toilet paper, wondering why she isn’t as pretty as Barbie and tricking herself into thinking someone as handsome and successful as Ken would ever fall in love with her.

Pros

• Cake, brownies, cookies and more!
• Ninja Turtles
• Overcoming gender confusion

Cons

• Attempting suicide
• Bondage collars
• Bulimia
• Hairy women

Score: 4.5/10