Grate carrots until you hate carrots and wish God had never invented them (approx. 1 cup).
Add 5.3 oz. of Greek yogurt because that's how much Greek yogurt you bought.
Add raisins. Remember you hate raisins, so only add three small boxes. Remember the texture is like bugs in an otherwise fine baked good; put everything in blender to fix that problem.
Add half a small can of crushed pineapple and half a small can of pumpkin.
Add about 1/2 - 3/4 c. of sweetened shredded coconut because they don't sell any other kind.
Add some amount of applesauce. Let's call it 1/2 - 3/4 c. again.
Add a frozen, overripe banana. Realize banana skin degrades when frozen. Swear a lot while scraping skin off in small chunks. Realize you should never have started this project.
Add about 3/4 c. of packed dark brown sugar.
Add 3 eggs; don't forget to give eggshells to cats (but do forget that bowl is on the floor and stub the shit out of your toe on it later).
Blend the shit out of all that stuff.
Combine in great big huge bowl 2 c. flour, 1 t. baking soda (only you don't have any, so use baking powder instead), 1 t. salt, 1 t. cinnamon, 1 t. cloves, 1 t. nutmeg, remember you really like ginger, and put in some of that, too. Let's say roughly 1 t. again.
Add puree mess to dry stuff. Say a little prayer.
Spray 10" round pan with that new kind of Pam that has flour already in it. Realize new flour Pam smells like childhood, though it didn't exist then -- probably has something to do with Mom's awesome baking. Wish she were here. Be glad she isn't here, since this culinary catastrophe would make her sad.
Put "cake" in oven, which was preheated to 350 (but decide you like 325 better as you put it in). Set timer for twenty-five minutes. Turn around, see mess, realize you have ingredients you can't really store anywhere. Realize you forgot to add oil. Crap.
Quickly mix remaining raisins (3 boxes), pumpkin (half can), pineapple (half can), and whatever else you can think of (baking powder, flour, vanilla, cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, applesauce, sour cream, egg, whole baby carrots...) in blender. Call it "muffins."
Add "muffins" to oven after timer goes off and "cake" doesn't look remotely done. Wait fifteen more minutes.
Realize stuff STILL doesn't look done, but "muffins" are coming along -- unlike "cake," they've risen slightly.
Five more minutes...
OK, maybe 350 was better; try that -- fifteen more minutes.
"Muffins" have fallen but seem to be done. "Cake" is burning around the edges, still raw in the middle. Give "cake" five more minutes.
Give up and decide raw "cake" isn't so bad. Wish you had someone with whom to drink right about now. Oh, and "muffins?" Yeah, not done, either.