1. Find a greasy serving plate, dish, or blender with the least amount of spaghetti stains on it to act as your bowl.

2. Half-heartedly rinse the bowl of your choosing in the faucet sink. Be sure to splash as much water as possible onto yourself and the floor.

3. Take out all the ingredients you own, including moth-infested baking powder and a half-opened bottle of vanilla extract you’ve kept in the back of the pantry for the last ten years.

4. Open as many cupboards and disheveled drawers as possible to find that one set of measuring cups your aunt gave you as a Christmas present years ago.

5. Say “fuck it” and pour around a teaspoon of baking powder into the bowl.

6. Wipe your sticky hands on your t-shirt and take out your phone to play some music while you cook.

7. Drop your phone into the mixture and swear until your roommate comes into the kitchen and gapes at the horrendous mess you made.

8. Half-heartedly insist you will clean it all up until your roommate leaves, then resume cursing and frantically wiping at your phone.

9. Realize you don’t have eggs, then spend fifteen minutes looking on the internet to find a replacement ingredient because going to the grocery store is just too much effort.

10. Decide on a shitty vegan recipe instead, and angrily scoop the previous mixture into the trash can, all the while convincing yourself “it’ll be healthy.”

11. Ignore the splatters on the wall and listen to Shakira while you continue to remake your crappy recipe.

12. Set the oven to 350 degrees, because all cupcake recipes are set at 350 degrees and you can’t be bothered to confirm.

13. Angrily glob all the ingredients on top of each other so the batter looks like a tub of oily vomit.

14. Sigh really loudly because Chris Janson’s “Buy Me A Boat” is playing on your phone for some reason. Instead of turning it off, quickly slip the phone inside a drawer and slam it shut indignantly.

15. Find your biggest utensil to conquer the swampland of a batter you created, and crank your arm bitterly until the disgusting mound of crap starts to look less like Oliver Twist’s gruel and more like actual cupcake batter.

16. Without washing your hands, swipe your palm inside the mixture and taste.

17. Proceed to choke up all remaining bits of batter and hastily throw the mixture into a somehow hot-pocket stained cupcake tin. Make sure to spill batter everywhere and pour extreme globs into some molds, while only a few drops in others.

18. Spend ten minutes looking for an oven mitt, then give up and decide to use an old t-shirt instead.

19. Shove the batter inside the oven and try to shut the door with part of the cupcake tin still sticking out.

20. Maneuver the cupcake tin so it fits inside your splattered oven and slam the door so hard you worry you may have broken it.

21. Spend 25 minutes skating around the mess you made, looking for your phone you shoved away in a huff.

22. Take a picture of the recipe you printed from the internet and upload it to Facebook with the caption, “Can’t wait to see how these turn out” even though you know no one cares, and they’re going to look and taste like the disappointment you are.

23. Realize the cupcakes are burning, quickly shut off the oven, and throw the cupcake tin onto the counter.

24. Scream in agony at the burns you caused yourself and run your hand under cold water until you remember that you don’t have frosting, nor did you remember to oil the tin.

25. Look at the deformed mess of cracked cake and drippy batter left across the counter and realize you don’t have frosting.

26. Paw through the mess of cupboards, batter, flour, and dirty containers until you reach the counter.

27. Pick up a piece of a cupcake and crush it inside your palm.

28. Stare at the horrible mess you've made and pick up the phone.

29. Wipe some cupcake off of your neck, clear your throat, and say “I’m not coming to the potluck tonight.”

We're now accepting list submissions! Although we're contractually prohibited from telling you whether Santa had anything to do with that decision. Join the PIC newsletter for weekly comedy headlines. Save 10% on comedy classes at The Second City using code PIC.