Seriously. The cupcakes I had at Citizen Cupcake sucked. They were dry, small, unsexy little dismally frosted unerotically unartfully baked carb buckets sentenced to dwell in their glass pastry killing jars on the top floor of Virgin Megastore. Was downtown with my lover the other day looking for cupcakes and being just generally sad about Citizen’s offerings, but try as we could we found no other source for delicious little cakes and our frosting-filthy little minds. So, please foodies — don’t give me that “they bring out the little kid in you” bullshit. Because when done right, a cupcake makes you feel like you’ve never been kissed deep before in your whole life, or fucked in that way that shows you a brand new sweet spot just *there* and makes your head spin and resets your DNA — and that at first bite you want to do both of those things like *right away* and with the cupcake too. Amazing cupcakes make you want to eat them for dinner because you have no impulse control in their presence. Last weekend I went to a party catered by Kara’s Cupcakes and almost passed out from the pleasure of one bite, but bliss on this scale is apparently not available on demand. We have the finest food culture and the most sophisticated sex culture in the world here in San Francisco. What are we if we only have Citizen/Virgin Anaphrodisiac cupcakes and Love at First Bite in — koff, koff — Berkeley!? We only have one cupcake source in this town, people. It’s a *problem*. I can only look at local blog Cupcake Bakeshop so much before I expire in a puff of sprinkles and crack like some forgotten frosting.

It’s official — I’m calling the Cupcake Terror Alert for San Francisco BUTTERCREAM: HIGH. We need a chart.

Image: good drinks, dry hump cupcakes at Citizen Cupcake.