Bachelor Party Stripper Cake Nutrition Facts

It’s your bachelor party, baby! You’ve spent the night bar-hopping, shot-taking, and gambling your life’s savings at casinos along the pristine cocaine-sand beaches of Miami with your best bros. Now it’s time to take the party back to the hotel room. But what’s that suspiciously huge fake-looking cake doing here? 

POOF! A stripper bursts from the cake like an R-rated jack-in-the-box. “Hello, boys!” she croons, and you moan. There’s nothing that arouses you more than a half-naked chick jumping from a cardboard box. But wait—you’re getting married, remember?

Fear not: You can have your sexy stripper cake and eat it too. Take a look at the nutrition facts below and call it a cheat day. The fiancée doesn’t need to know.

Serving size: As much as you want! There is no such thing as too many lap dances. Remember, this is your last night of freedom before you voluntarily shackle yourself to the woman you love and want to spend your life with. Besides, the bachelor party stripper is a longstanding American tradition, just like baseball, apple pie, and sending women unsolicited dick pics.

Calories: Enough to get your, ahem, energy up—but it’s fine because calories don’t count tonight. So if your fiancée later asks why your crotch is covered in glitter and suspicious red bumps, you’re allowed to say it never happened. Hey, you’re just being considerate—she has a wedding to plan and doesn’t need the extra stress of knowing you basically cheated on her. What stripper? What cake? Love you, babe!

Total fat: The perfect mouthwatering amount—just watch that stripper’s ass as she shimmies. That jiggle! Don’t you want to grab that juicy peach of a derriere? Remember, your fiancée has the boniest butt ever that’s no fun to squeeze. After this, you swear you’ll never look at another woman again—ever! Not even your mom, that cute Target cashier, or your seven Tinder side chicks.

Sodium: A ton in that salty sweat dripping like icing down the cake girl’s cleavage, shimmering as she twerks to that Nickelback Dubstep remix. Don’t you want to slide your hands over that slippery wet skin? You can’t help it—you’re a red-blooded guy and have basic needs, including food, water, and cupping a stripper’s saline implants with your bare hands.

Sugars: She’ll give you some sugar, all right—just say the word and she’ll take you into the hotel bathroom for a special treat. The guys paid extra for it, and you would hate to waste their generosity. Plus, when your fiancée said no strippers, she was probably kidding. Especially when she said, “I’m seriously not kidding, Carl.”

Fiber: Lots of this, thanks to that shiny gold bikini she’s wearing—until she slides those straps down her golden-brown shoulders and there’s nothing left but skin, that perfect hourglass shape, those tits—oh, hell. Who cares that you’re getting married soon to what’s-her-name? Why are you getting married? There’s a naked stripper gyrating three inches from your face, tempting you, with no cotton or moral fibers to be seen!

Vitamins: A double dose of C-cups, skyrocketing D levels, the feeling that this is A-okay.

Ingredients: Cotton candy perfume, legs for days, a pair of ten-inch heels (the kind your future wife would never wear, just saying), a gold thong that will mysteriously end up in your back pocket tomorrow morning, three more shots of tequila, a blurred selfie of you with your tongue deep in the stripper’s belly button, an Instagram post you’ll regret later, twenty-seven texts and seven missed calls from your fiancée. Oh, and herpes.

Allergen warning: That cake stripper’s hand may contain your nuts. And so will your fiancée once she finds out about all this. When she dumps you, though, it’ll be okay. You’ll find another woman to date, fall in love with, and get engaged to—and then you can have another bachelor party! Who’s ready for seconds? ❏

Rachel Reyes is a writer, editor, and amateur comedian based in Minneapolis. 

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