Saturday, January 21


nature cake.
i dunno what else to call it.
it's like granola, kinda.
it's practically healthy.
i can tell you don't know what i'm speaking on.
hold on.
let me rewind.
i made a cake with as many nicey-nice natural bits as i had on hand.
pecans, dried cranberries, and raisins.
that's nature, man.
sure, it's got sugar in there.
i don't want it to be terrible.
and yeah, there is frosting, AND icing-
but the crumb has nutrients and all that right in there.
i mean it.
you guys eff around with toasted wheat germ?
apparently, as of now, i doo-doo that freaky sh!t.
on the real-
it looks sexy, it tastes kind of nutty,
and it made my nature cake expert.
check the teleport:

it's chunky. full of all the good stuff,
and it even has sprouted white whole wheat flour.
that's some futuristic nature magic.
i think i just like calling it 'nature'.
it tastes great.
and it's got a lot of toothsome texture, too.
you wanna give a little nature a go?
here's the recipe:
1 stick of butts;
>1 cup of raw sugar;
1/2 tsp salt;
2 tsp vanilla;
as always, we cream all that together,
and then add half the wetness:
3/4 cup vanilla vegan yogurt.
stir it all up.
hand blending this is more than adequate.
we want it rough and rugged, kids.
it's nature, after all.
when that's become all one thing,
you throw in the dry stuff-
1 1/2 cup flour;
1/2 cup white whole wheat flour;
1/2+ cup toasted wheat germ (be careful when you hit it w/ the heat, it burns fast);
2 tsp bakey powpow;
1 tsp baking soda;
1 cup chopped pecans;
1/2 dried cranberries;
1/2 cup raisins;
finish the batter by stirring in 1 cup of non-dairy milk.
make it nice. make sure it's all mixed.
make yourself a cup of tea.
i dunno.
you've gotta grease cake pan.
i used a 9" springform.
that's my favorite.
spread with butterish, dusted with flour,
and filled with that chunky lump-up,
and baked,
at 350F, for 40 minutes.
check that middle for doneness, man.
for realsies.
you don''t want sinking suck in the center.
well, yeah.
i put those radially radiant pecan halves on top.
i don't want to voluntarily accept ugly food.
if i can make it pretty, i'm probably gonna.
so, you may have noticed that i didn't put any cinnamon in the batter.
i think that would've been a misstep.
that wheat germ has a great flavor, but it's delicate.
to keep it at the expert level,
and make sure we didn't miss out on any flavors,
i mixed a little kapowdered sugar and cinnamon with vanilla and soymilk,
for a simple icing, and splatted some in the middle.
just enough to give it that accentuated excellence,
but keep all the rest of that delightful dopeness intact.
i might overthink this stuff.
and also overdo it a bit.
those toasted pecan sprankles dipped in there.
MORE nuts?
of course.
too much is the right amount.
there's even coconut frosting around the edges.
yes, that's what's up.
i wouldn't want to miss out.
so, i keep adding more and more.
rules is rules,
and nature cake abides, man.
the schedule at the studio is so effed up.
i've got dudes on top of dudes on top of dudes,
stacked back to back to back for days on end.
now, don't get me wrong, here-
i appreciate the continued patronage of menfolk,
as they generally get bigger and better tattoos in this region of the world.
i mean that site-specifically, and not as a gender bias.
the thing is-
i STILL have a hard time talking to men.
i just don't care about the sh!t they're saying.
like, not one little teeny tiny bit.
no thank you.
i'd rather talk about a colonoscopy.
ugh. never have i ever, nor will i ever give any effs about that.
F*ing hell. i can barely drive a subaru
(which is apparently a vehicle just for lesbians, and me,
at least, according to the hard-working workbooted bros of the north)
well, now.
i DO love girls.
but, not the ones they're taking about.
zero percent interested, one hundred percent of the time.
it's NOT every guy,
but, it's most of the ones i'm tattooing the longest sessions on,
the most frequently.....
i surmise that the motormouthing monologue i've mastered
is more of a defense mechanism than a performance piece.
the more i put up a solid wall of sound,
with a solid urban breakbeat backdrop,
the less the chances of an errant interjection about venison chili
showing up to make sure i'm reminded of how much we're NOT alike.
i'm just complaining a little, kids.
i like to.
i've got nonstop testosteroni ponies for the following five days,
and i'm just psyching myself up to get into the spirit of the sausagefest.
it's all really happening.
i'm spoiled enough to be salty about earning my money this week,
but i'm smart enough to know that they're the ones who're gonna pay;
never quiet, never soft.....

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