A chicken fried kick to the balls…

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I like my chicken fried, cold beer on a Friday night, a pair of jeans that fit just right….motha fucka!

If you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m in Texas, and was born and raised off fried fucking goodness.  Only difference now is I won’t die from it.
Being whole30/whole60 keeps me from doing many recipes as before, I used to crank the bitches out, but I can’t, because I get weak in the knees just thinking about my chocolate thunder (pronounced thun-duh).

But what-the-fuck-ever, I’m good.

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Ok so you’ll need:

●2 eggs
●1 cup of almond meal (I made my own)
●2 Tablespoons of organic coconut milk(from the can)
●8 oz (weight) of chicharrones (pork skins, without the meat attached) crushed.
●2 lbs or so of grassfed cubed beef steak ( grassfed is so much more tender)
●chipotle infused olive oil (or coconut oil, which can handle higher heats)
●Salt and pepper for taste

Ok, so you’re probably thinking ,”what the fuck, pork skins?” Well get over it, the flavors blend so well it’s like a drop kick to your face, so shut the fuck up.

□heat pan (preferably stick-less)to medium (with EVOO) or high (coconut oil) and coat pan with your choice of oil (EVOO, coconut)

□Mix the eggs, coconut milk, add a pinch of S&P whisk the shit

□Mix almond meal and crushed chicharrones

□pat steak to make sure it’s dry…salt and pepper dat hoe, but not too much because there is a ton of salt naturally in the chicharrones.

□dip meat in egg mixture, then coat with dry mix, making to that you shake off excessive “breading”

□CAREFULLY ADD MEAT TO THE PAN!!! Dont burn your bitch ass because you’re excited to get this in your mouth!

□depending on thickness of your steak you’re looking at 4 minutes per side.

□ place cooked steaks on a paper towel to drain off oil.

■ eat that shit

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Now broccoli rice/couscous/quinoa:

Broccoli tops in a processor, sauteed in chipotle infused olive oil, with fresh slices of radish.

That’s it! It’s really not that hard, tag my ass on IG if you attempt this dish, because I think you’re in for a mouth ass whooping.

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Moral of the story:

Mama, I know you can’t wait,
but bitch you crazy if you think you getting my steak.

Keep it thuggish, ruggish and toned
Pamela Martha Focker

I slice bitches, and avocados.

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How do you slice your avocados so awesomely?  You’re such a bad-ass…

Ok so that’s not word for word but I’ve been asked about my cutting skills for a while. So here ya go:

You need an avocado, obviously dumbass, and make sure it’s just under ripe, it needs to be firm otherwise the shit will be mushy. You need a decent ass knife too, mine is old as shit but besides the rust stains it can still cut a bitch. Dear Wolfgang puck, I need a refund.

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●cut the avocado (pictured)
  □making sure you cut all the way through and all around.
●twist the avocado till you have two pieces (pictured)

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●Score the avocado skin (that means cut the black shit) into a cross section.
□ carefully hold the firm avocado without cutting yourself or the avocado flesh.

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●Peel the avocado skin off.
   □apply a small amount of pressure to get under that skin…don’t fuck it up..because your rings will look shitty.

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Peeling the skin is really the easiest part if your shit is firm enough then you’ll be alright, if not..then just stop now…make guacamole, cause you’re wasting your time.

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●slice the avocado into rings
□I mean seriously, do you want me to do it for you?  It’s so easy a caveman can do it *pun intended*

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●pitting the avocado is a bit tough, but once you get the hang of it, you can stop crying.

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●With a firm grip whack the seed with the knife.
□whack twice to make a cross on the head

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●Usually one whack is enough but if not two will do.
□twist the seed out.
●repeat previous steps

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With all that work, from start to finish you’re looking at 2-4 minutes on time.
They’re fun to make and look so cute on plates.

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Moral of the story”

Fruit loops deez nuts, avocado rings are my fruit loops, that doesn’t give me the shits

Keep it thuggish, ruggish and toned

Pamela Martha Focker

I say the shit you won’t say.

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The movie Wall-e has reality to it.

Don’t bitch about what you can change!

When I seen the picture of these two (clearly obese) people ordering off their, what I assume is a Hover round, I was livid!
Am I completely fit? No. Do I still have a long way to go? Yes. Would you catch me in fast food lines? Fuck no.
I have come a long way, from being very sick with at least 3 things that were life threatening or required a shit ton of meds. For fuck sake, I was on chemotherapy medications! I found whole30/Paleo through my “snatch” doctor(I know fucking weird..who gives a shit…lol). He thought I was too young to be suffering so much and at my highest weight ever ( even through pregnancy) I realized: fuck this shit, I want better for my life and kids…I’m in complete control of me and I won’t be a mother fucking statistic.

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Do I judge people at the grocery store. Unfortunately yes. I hate thay about myself now. I see kids with parents who feed them over processed foods and call it nutritional. It’s so heart wrenching to believe that a change to the parents is a change to the future of humanity. If we continue with the “large is the new small” era, then we will all end up in scooters and wondering where did we go wrong.  If we don’t change the shit we do now, expect sickness in our children, expect daily medications, expect an early death, expect a horrible fucking life. My life was fucking horrible, I was in pain every day, I almost ended my marriage because I felt guilt of feeling helpless by my illnesses.

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Change doesn’t need to happen for a reason, or for a fucking season.  Change needs to start because your bitch ass is better than a double meat and cheese burger, because corporate America doesn’t need your money. Farms owned by familes need your money. McDonald’s doesn’t give a fuck if you get sick and die. You passed on your addictions to the next generation with false ideas of a “better breakfast” or bullshit toys in a box.
Get your mind right for our future and most importantly because you don’t want to be the one in a fast food lane ordering food on your scooter.

Moral of the story:

Bitch, put that punk ass burger down, and eat a grassfed ribeye. Corporate America hates it, but I love it. Fuck you McDonald’s!

Keep it thuggish, ruggish, and bullshit free,

Pamela Martha Focker

You need my balls in your mouth

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There’s something so therapeutic about rolling balls between my hands.

I’ve been really stressed this week. Seriously, shit has been hitting the fan left and right. I may be more excited for school to end than my kids. I’m ready for the the kids and I to wake up whenever the hell we want, play all day, then slap shit on the grill and call it dinner while the kids run naked through the sprinklers and we call that a bath. Hope the neighbors don’t judge. Oh, who we kidding?! I’ll be sipping something tequila and not giving a fuck. But back to my balls…

I used to make truffles at a catering company I worked for years ago – chocolately, full of cream and tasty liquors, rolled in all kinds of delicious. I found it very relaxing, zoning out for hours rolling ball after ball of chocolate love. Anyway, my sweet tooth kicks into high gear when I’m stressed. Here’s my Paleo answer to truffle therapy.

Tools: Blender or food processor

Ingredients:
1 c almonds
2 c dates
2 Tbsp unsweetened cocoa
Shredded coconut (for rolling)

Directions:
1. Toss the almonds in the blender and pulse that shit until it’s coarsely ground. Go coarser if you want to be biting nuts, finer if you just like the nutty taste without the crunch. Your nuts, I won’t judge.

2. Add the dates and cocoa and chop until you’ve got a well mixed ball of ‘dough’.

3. Grease your hands (I used coconut oil, of course) and start rolling tablespoon sized balls.

4. Roll the balls in coconut or more cocoa.

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Just try rolling all of them without popping a few in your mouth. My kids liked these too, so I gave them a couple and said they were the last ones so I didn’t have to share. #smartmom

How I made whole30 my bitch

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Fuck you puffy taco, I’ll stick with my watermelon cup, bitch.

So it’s day 33 of my whole30, but I’m thinking I should call it whole60 because this mother fucker was easy.
I thought the hardest part was being on vacation with this shit. Seriously, I ate fruit cups, bunless burgers, chicharrons,turkey legs and bbq (sauce free) for 3 days straight.

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My moment of weakness came to possible turning point when I was at a booth for what seemed like my 20th fruit cup next to a brisket taco booth. My all time favorite taco was filled with brisket. With a slap to the tit, I sucked it up and ordered another bitch ass fruit cup.

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Do I miss waffles?  Fuck yes. Do I miss my chocolate thunder (pronounced thun-duh)? Shit yes! Do I miss the pain I started to get for no obvious reason? No. I pride myself in being a real bitch who pushes it to the limit. I like those “technically” Paleo things and eat the shit outta them. Once I started having a mini flare up I knew it was time for a reboot, I wasn’t ready to become my old bitch ass self.

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So telling the puffy taco lady to kiss my ass was warranted, because gangsters like myself don’t fuck around with my health. Unless its tequila. Which is a minor weakness, and I do mean minor. I don’t drink to begin with. I know, big shocker!  If I do, I don’t drink dos XX, I drink Patron, straight, or fresh grapefruit juice with Italian citrus soda…that shit is yummy!

Are you thinking about doing whole30 but you find yourself scared to?
Don’t be a bitch, it’s worth it. My pain went away and I’ve lost weight. Not sure how much, only because the scale is the devil, no seriously it is. Being whole30 isn’t as hard as you think…even on vacation.

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Best part of it all is that I’m in Texas, land of the best bbq ever! There is no debate to be made. Dry meat in smokers for hours? I’ll take all that shit please. Brisket, ribs, beef ribs…they thought I was crazy because I didn’t want the complimentary banana pudding for helping out the owner.  “Uhh no thanks,banana pudding is against my Paleo religion, boo!”

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Turkey legs galore in carnival town!!!!
When in doubt, eat turkey legs!
It’s difficult eating strict whole30 on vacation, especially with not knowing the ingredients of spices and such. Why worry yourself? Limiting yourself to the extreme on a vacation will just make you want to break your shit.
Just eat what you can recognize. Most restaurants have simple dishes like burgers, order dry bunless with the yummy extras on the side.

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Mexican restaurants usually have huevos rancheros which is over easy eggs with fresh salsa on top, with bacon and beans…I gave the beans to my husband. Barbacoa is also a staple, which is beef cheek meat (don’t be a bitch, it’s good as fuck). These simple menu choices can keep you compliant and away from a punk ass plate. Plate envy isn’t part of my nature, and being whole30 doesn’t make a difference.

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When everyone around you is chugging on beer and pina coladas check your hotel stash, they have awesome drinks and no boring ass water either, because your mouth needs a vacation from that shit from time to time.

All in all, whole30 was very rewarding and it didn’t ruin my vacation like I thought it would. Thank God I live in Texas, because I would of eaten pizza in a heart beat if I had been in New York. Good thing my kids wanted dominoes…

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Moral of the story:

You can allow a lifestyle change to fuck your shit up, or you can go with the flow while still keeping it whole30.

Keep it thuggish, ruggish and toned…even on vacation, bitches!,

Pamela Martha Focker

Vacation word count:7

Damn! That’s a big bitch!

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Ol lazy ass bitch...♥

“Whoa, what the fuck is that?!?!”

This is the story of Mama, my infamous Instagram dog.
She’s a pitbull terrier mix, or at least that’s what was sort of told to me.

“She’s a french bulldog mix, she’s definitely not pitbull

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What french bulldog is this big, asshole!

Mama is a rescue dog, and when I mean rescue I mean just that.  She wasn’t saved from some bitch ass owner who didn’t feed her, or had her in fights. She was rescued by my brother on a very busy highway with another dog, and sadly the other dog was struck and killed, and this bad bitch was laying on it to protect the dead dog from more harm. When I first heard this I cried, like a punk bitch. Now mind you, this whole time I’m under the impression that this is a French bulldog mix seen small pictures of her. I figured the ears told the bulldog story more than anything.

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Gangsta ass dogs like tummy rubs.

When it was time to get her, I was nervous for two reasons: firstly: this was my husband’s anniversary present, and he’s already irritated because our hound dog wasn’t getting enough attention and “woos” all the time (beans isn’t that bad, he’s just a fat ass baby).
Secondly: she needed to be spayed ASAP because Beans wasn’t neutered himself. The only thing that ran through my head when I got her was:

” fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck, that’s a big bitch!?!”

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#BitchesBeTrippingHard!

Besides little hiccups and persecution with other who just don’t understand hee breed, she’s the most loving dog ever! Don’t let that fool you, she’ll fuck you up. Real gangsta ass dogs do that type of shit. She protects us, she’s playful,she farts out loud, she smacks her lips when shes hungry (seriously the best shit ever) and she loves my sweet potato scraps. That’s my Mama…my bitch. Y’all will be seeing more of her on IG, she knows she’s famous and feeds off that attention. 

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Thug dogs wear bunny ears...they don't fuck around.

Moral of the story:
Don’t judge the breed, dumbass!

Keep it thuggish, ruggish and toned, bitches,

Pamela Martha Focker

Dear Grainfed cow, go fuck your mother.

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Wait, if it’s grassfed beef, does that mean the steak eats grass?

So this weekend has been a big ass experiment of grassfed and grainfed steaks of different sizes and cuts. It’s okay you can be jealous. I know I’d be crying like a little bitch.

So Friday evening, I got a little hair up my ass (#operationcavewoman) and decided to make a grassfed ribeye. > Meow < I've never been a ribeye gal – figured the shit was too marbled and tough for my liking, even cooked medium rare.

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Obviously, that shit was awesome cooked on medium heat on a flat top skillet for 3 minutes each side, and the tenderness was enough to make me lose my shit. It didn’t matter that the ribeye naturally has fatty chunks within it, because if yo ass doesn’t already know, grassfed beef has more of the good fat and provides more nutrients than a bald eagle’s egg or grainfed beef.

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Check that shit out! ↑↑↑ You’re not seeing things. Grassfed beef has less total fat than punk ass chicken. Which boggles my fucking brain. Why are we told beef is so bad?!
Grainfed beef is bad, but grassfed isn’t, bitches.

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That’s about all the info you need in makes a choice between the two, scientifically speaking anyways.

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So my jealous ass husband wanted steak and eggs the next morning, and being the awesome wife I am… I told him he can cook the shit. He’s awesome with the spices and keeping it 100% bullshit free. Well I fucked that shit up too… Nevermind the fact that it was strip steak, the fucker was on point.

Last night my husband wanted to see that bullshit ass fight and wanted to cook steak and shrimp on the pit. Being the fucking scientifical motha fucka I am I thought I’d try the $2.77/lb sirloin steak on sale. Which is by far my most favorite cut.

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The steak ended up probably being a bigger let down than the bitch ass fight. They were cooked just under medium rare – I mean the fuckers were still kicking on the plate. The taste was very good, and I mean tasty as fuck, but then again my husband is good about that. I swear he rubs the bitches on his balls for the flavoring.

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Needless to say the meat was tough as my callused feet after black Friday. I ate the shit, barely, but I had to slice it so thin. My husband, who thinks the grassfed thing is bullshit (motha fucka still eats my shit though), thought the grassfed was much more tender.

So that’s the run down of grassfed and grainfed beef. One costs more, the other requires more chewing and you shouldn’t consume it often, or your ass will be big as a cow with mad cow disease… and that’s not cool.

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Dear grassfed beef, get in mah belleh. Grainfed beef, go fuck your mother.

Keep it thuggish, ruggish, and toned,

Pamela Martha Focker