What do you call it when you eat yourself?

I know that it is cannibalism when you eat members of your own species, but what do you call it when you actually eat yourself?

This question will haunt me for the rest of my years... maybe for the rest of the day. Either way, for a long, long time. So why?

Stacy and I hosted our post-wedding celebration yesterday (August 2, for those of you who do not check in every day). We had loads of people over here, walking around and gawking at our stuff. We had tri-tip and chicken and other yummykins catered in. As part of this festivity, we also had a cake. And it is this cake that occupies my mind today.

Stacy and I were pretty bummed that Chloe (our almost 14-year-old Weimreiner) couldn't partake in our actual wedding. While we partied it up in Sonoma, Chloe was stuck at home, with the loving care of The Animal Nanny (http://www.theanimalnanny.com/). So anyway, we were planning this post-wedding party, and we wanted Chloe to be a part of it. Actually, we wanted her to be the centerpiece... and what a morbid centerpiece it was.

We had gathered a couple of photos of Chloe and sent them in to a cake maker. Have you seen Ace of Cakes? That show rocks. Well, this was our version of it. We had a woman who worked at Sugar Butter Flour (http://www.sugarbutterflour.com/) make a cake version of our dog. This place was awesome. The cake (picture coming soon) weighed about 40 pounds, and it looked like our own, precious, lumpy Chloe. That was awesome!

Well, it was awesome until we had to cut up the cake and serve it to our guests. There is something wrong about taking a knife to your loved ones. Can you imagine cutting up a cake shaped like your daughter or son? Yeah, creepy. So there we stood, knife in hand, grins from ear to ear, fully ready to slice up our dog. It was wrong. But it tasted so good. How can something so good be so wrong?

We managed to feed Chloe a little bit of herself. Weird. It reminded me of that scene in Hannibal where Lecter feeds the brain to Ray Liota. Chloe was there, eating a little bit of herself, and she was happy doing it. If she only knew...

Anyway, the rest of the evening was great. For those of you who have read the earlier post about Rockband, this was another example of why that game rocks so much. After the kids were gone, we wrestled the Wii away from people and brought it downstairs to melt some faces. Aubrey donned the guitar, Bruno twirled the drumsticks, and Bruno's daughters manned the mike. It turns out that you can listen to the song Dani California (or whatever it is called, the song by the Red Hot Chili Peppers) exactly 3 times before you get sick of it. So after they finally made it through on their _5th_ try, we were ready to hear another song.

I won't go into anything more about that for now, but let me just say that Aubrey is a freaking king on guitar. He put it on expert and his little devil fingers found most of the right keys. Were it not for bad calibration (I would argue it was his fingers and brain that were calibrated poorly), he claims he would have been perfect. Either way, the guy was like our own version of Slash (only he smelled a bit better, didn't have the cool rocker afro, and wasn't accompanied by a pile of groupies - no, Candace is not a groupie. She has been with him since his first days as a rocker).

Anyway, what do you call a dog that eats itself? Canineable. Yeah, it's terrible. I blame Tom (and you should too).