I'm on a roll, so butter me

Thursday, May 14, 2009

TRAPPIN' HARD SERVIN' FENES



I used to think the term "Starving Artist" just meant that "artists" were starved for attention. I mean they usually look like o.k. people until you start talking to them and they hit you with some shit about what they are working on or what their music is about or some poem or short story bout anthropomorphic whatever-the-fuck . Well I don't know shit about art and I can't read. So just joke around with me about how shitty other people are in the room and we can get along fine. Anyway where was I? Oh yeah, so I thought "Starving Artist" meant starved for attention - until I had to make food for a bunch of artists. The Cafe had a "vernissage" over the weekend which I guess is Swahili for "art show." The artists arrived early of course and proceeded to demolish most of the food I made for those who would look at their work and nod or perhaps raise an eyebrow in feigned intrigue but really they just counting to ten in their heads before going back for more food or better yet alcohol. At one point I was cooking and blasting Waka Flocka Flame (some of the hardest shit I've heard) and this artist-type came into the kitchen by accident and I turned around knife in hand and must have given him some fucked-up look becuase he proceeded to back out of the kitchen with both hands up saying "Sorry sorry sorry." Anyway one of the hors d'oeuvres was this tuna salad I really like, I figured these art types, while "poor," would still look down their nose at mayonaise, so it's a lemon juice and olive oil thang. Here's the recipe, I made a lot but this is for one can of tuna.

What you workin wiphe:

One can of Tuna (in olive oil is best)
2 tbsp Olive Oil
Juice of 1/2 of one lemon
10-12 Kalamata Olives
1 tbsp capers get a lil' juice in there too
Half a medium red onion, diced up
Maybe like 1/4 cup chopped parsley
Salt
Pepper
Waka Flocka Flame



Pit them olives and mix dat shit up. If your tuna wasn't in olive oil, you prolly gonna need to add some more. Salt and Pepper to taste. Serve on some bread or some shit.

On another note, last night at a bar I was getting a little tipsy and was approached by this fine-ass german female that made my night. After short introductions the coversation went like this:

Fine-ass broad: "So you are from America?"
Yo main man JoJo in the mahfuckin' building: "Yes"
FAB: "So you are an artist"
YMMJJitMB: "No"
FAB: "So you are a musician?"
YMMJJitMB: "No"
FAB: "So what are you?"
YMMJJitMB: "I'm just a cook."

At this point FAB threw her arms around me and, told me how relieved she was not to be talking to a musician or artist. Then we talked about scrambled eggs. I was gonna try to scramble her eggs but I think I blew it at this point:

FAB: "I just love a man who can cook."
YMMJJitMB: "Me too!"

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