So you think you actually give a crap

Kudos, but I still think you're wrong.

Dad of three, husband of one. My Pops figured out he had high cholesterol in 2014, found out he gave it to me too. Thanks, prick. So I had to know what went into my food, and I read into stuff too much. Turns out, everything you eat from a box/package is terrible for you, and your body doesn't know what to do with it, so I went to making everything my damned self (and moderation). Turns out, I'm relatively good at it, and sure do enjoy it. . . except for the unhealthy amount of rage I feel when someone else is in the kitchen with me. Seriously, Angel. . . why are you always RIGHT where I need to be?

I raise chickens because if you ever saw where the eggs came from in the store, you too would raise chickens, and they're fun as hell.

I dance when I'm happy, I'm happy when I cook, so I usually have music on. No apologies for my taste in music, much like your taste in friends, you can't choose what you like.

Hit my mid-life-crisis in 2019, decided I didn't like the idea of turning 40, so went health kick and cut out soy, most refined sugar, no coke (soda) anymore, exercise every day, blahblahblah. Even through this though. . . eat the cake. If you can't have cake & ice cream on your kids' birthday, you might be alive, but you ain't livin'.

If you cook even on weekends, I recommend getting a damned KitchenAid mixer. Thing is phenomenal. Got one as a steal of a buy at Target one day, wore it out once (so far) and had to replace a gear.

I grill with charcoal, not propane (AKA, outdoor oven, pansy) and pellet smoker, sometimes charcoal smoker if I have the time to babysit it.

I don't have prep times, total times, blahblahblah. That's all a pile of shit anyways, because people don't account for the fact that sometimes when you cook, you have to live your life, change a diaper, clean up Sunny D, find a dog, where the fuck is my phone, anyways?! I do have my playlist option, because if you've been paying attention, I dance when I cook, you can't dance without music, or you just look like you're having a seizure. . . which my dancing does anyways. You can try to guestimate how much time it takes using the playlist, but that's not the best capture of time, because. . . like I said, sometimes you gotta live your life in there (and sometimes I have to talk to the little people who live in my house, and don't put on more music). If the food takes longer than you thought, OH NO! We're all gonna die!

Pardon the background photos, I actually live in this kitchen, so there's no pre-measured out shit in 47 different fucking bowls that I'm gonna video montage of me dumping one by one into a mixing bowl, because no one fucking does that shit, and it doesn't look good for the camera, Karen. Honestly, I almost never measure my spices. I just dump that shit in until it looks right. You will occasionally find in a photo of food, a stray Nerf bullet, foot, dog, stale bread, who fucking knows kicking around in the back ground. I'm gonna chalk it up to "a fun look into my life" rather than "I'm a fucking pig with a messy house & 3 midget assholes ruining my life, okay?"

I have every intention of updating this post with a 'tools list' of the crap I use/recommend, but if you're reading this, it hasn't happened, and let's be honest. It probably isn't going to.

If you enjoy reading these recipes, many, many are from my mother, and that's awesome. If you're offended by my crass humor and mild rage, no one's making you hang around, hit the back button, ya prude. Have fun ruining the barista's day at Starbucks because there's too much cream in your latte.

Cook something. You're gonna have some fails, but that's how you grow.