Welcome to another installment of “Awesome Shit That I Cooked Recently.” I managed to crank these kick-ass barbecue meatballs out last week before my landlord stole my oven.
You know I like to make foods on the weekend that can last me all week. I triumphantly(?) quit my night job this week, but I will probably still make all of my food on Sunday to allow for more sitting on my ass during weeknights.
Turkey Jalapeno Meatballs with BBQ Sizzurp
– 1 Package (20 oz.) Ground Turkey (jive turkey)
– 2 Tbsp. Olive Oil (this time, don’t buy the cheap shit)
– 1 Egg, Beaten (similar in fashion to a red-headed stepchild)
– 1/3 Cup Italian Bread Crumbs (preferably made from real Italians)
– Three Green Onions, Chopped
– One Medium Sized Jalapeño, Chopped
– Sriracha to Taste
– Old Bay to Taste (if you are from Maryland or are awesome enough to own Old Bay anyway.)
1. Preheat the oven to 350°F (or 175°C, if you are like my roommate and think you are European). Grease a 9×13 inch baking dish or sheet pan with the olive oil. Or use tinfoil and Pam Cooking Spray, with your broke ass.
2. In a medium bowl, mix together all of the ingredients using your dirty immigrant hands. Form the meat into golf ball sized meatballs. Place about 1 inch apart in the baking dish.
3. Bake for 15 minutes in the preheated oven, then turn them over, and continue baking for about 5 more minutes, or until somewhat crispy on the outside. Or be like me and bake for 20 minutes without flipping. I lived.
– 1 (32 ounce) jar grape jelly
– 2 (12 ounce) jars chili sauce (such as Heinz Chili Sauce)
– 1 pinch cayenne pepper (optional)
1. In a pot combine the grape jelly with the chili sauce; add in the cooked meatballs and simmer for about 45 minutes uncovered or until sauce has thickened.
Official Mascot of This Blog.
…and my only power is that I am always within earshot when some underemployed dingleberry states that you can’t get a job with an art degree.
Suck it, non-believers! Full-time graphic designer and
proud indifferent, since 2011.
Our accountant didn’t show up for work today, and chose to send our Vice President a multi-paragraph text message detailing his overnight struggle and continued epic battle with severe mudbutt. Together we read about how he suspects food poisoning, keeps running to the toilet, etc., etc. How come every time someone at my work needs a day off, they say it is diarrhea? That bitch is at Six Flags. This is what happens when your company enforces a strict no vacation for your first year of employment policy.
I have never heard of a company except for mine that makes employees show up every day for the first year. Internment camps, maybe. It seems worse than it is since we only close for two days a year. Happy 249 days of cube dwelling in 2013, fellow co-workers! It was even worse in 2011 (my first year here), since Christmas and New Year’s were both on the weekend. Sorry, employees who want to spend the holidays with family. It is your fault for working for Italian people who only moved here to cash in on the absurdly high American work ethic (read: ability to withstand sitting in a chair for extended periods of time, for minimal pay and no insurance).
On top of giving us all the horrible mental picture of his little stick man body and disproportionately large head on the toilet, he signed his name at the end of the text message. SIGNED. The. Text. Message. Why is everyone so weird around here?
Somebody who thought I was homeless tossed me $25, so I saw Eels with some friends last night at 9:30 Club. Although I didn’t get an autograph on the pretend gig poster I made for Eels as a school project in 2010 (weak!), it was a great time. Nicole Atkins and Puddles Pity Party opened. I enjoyed Nicole Atkins but Puddles and his monkey lady friend terrified the shit out of me. Since I work as a graphic design monkey for a series of Italian overlords, anything remotely resembling a Pulcinella makes me want to reach for the Xanax. However, in spite of appearances, credit needs to be given to Puddles for his beautiful singing voice.
Eels is amazing for a lot of reasons besides willingness to color coordinate matching Adidas tracksuits. E just keeps changing his style and getting better all of the time. Throughout the show he lauded his band for their performances, and we received three encores. Their set list was great-I only wish I could have heard “I Like Birds” live. Oh well, I am sure that E is tired of every female on the planet asking to hear that song.
I really enjoy 9:30 Club as a venue, but last night they did this weird thing where they used the guard rail for the stage as a cattle catcher to push all of us towards the door after the show. The guys leading the bum’s rush even ridiculed my friend for jumping out of the way. It might have bothered me less if I had been able to duck out of the way as well; some immovable hipsters behind me were deep in conversation and somehow didn’t realize that I was being squished against them in an effort to not lose any toes. Weird. If anyone from my five followers knows any staff at 9:30 Club, perhaps you can request that they wait a full five minutes after the show ends next time before they start the plow.
My photos aren’t great since I was using my Cybershot, but here they are in case you want to be able to recognize Puddles in a dark alley.
“Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.” -Martin Luther King, Jr.
And let us not partake from the donuts that your office mates take turns to purchase with their own money every Friday, when you have not only denied your turn to purchase multiple times, but vehemently stated that you would not be “coerced.”
STAY OUT OF THE DONUTS EDWARD, YOU RED COMMIE BASTARD.