Fat Friday - Flex!

Sticking up for myself.

An e-mail sent to my yoga instructor on the occasion of a tear-filled session.

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Hi, L:

I wanted to quickly touch base with you regarding this week’s yoga session. it was a hard session for me - I felt a bit excluded in terms of what I could do with the poses, and I left the class feeling that as a fat girl I didn’t belong there amongst a crowd of lithe, bendable gazelle-like creatures. I’m aware that much of my distress was attributable to my continuing struggles with an eating disorder, and that comparing my own body and abilities to others does little to help my yoga practice or my ED recovery. I guess I just wanted to write to you so that you were aware of the situation. I certainly want to continue attending sessions because I think there are many good things to be had from yoga, and I think it would be helpful to have your assistance in demonstrating pose variations and emphasizing the aspects of yoga that I may be overlooking because of my preoccupation with bodies and doing poses the “right way.”

Thanks in advance for your understanding,
Morgan

Fat Friday - First Day of Summer

Enjoy it, folks, in whatever way you choose. I think some air conditioning and a delicious ice cream cone sound just about perfect.

Threat to My Domestic Security

“Mind your pasta, dude.”

“Wha? AH! Damn dog! Back off, you devil!”

“Ahahahahaha!”

“Gah! Her nose touched my pasta!”

“Man, I’m really looking forward to moving in to our new place and having a proper dining table. No more of this coffee table crap. This coffee table is the perfect height for hungry hounds.”

“Geez! I can’t eat this now!”

“Don’t be a baby, she didn’t lick it.”

“That dog’s a devil. She’s a Dinner Plate Terrorist!”

“True dat,” I reply as Kiba sneaks in closer, hoping for a nibble.

FatGrrl Reviews: Ratchet and Clank Future: Tools of Destruction.

Just a reminder: I’m not actually getting paid for these, but I’ll be glad to whore myself out to the highest bidder. I do have three kids, you know.

Ratchet and Clank Future: Tools of Destruction for the PS3 is in a word, awesome.

What’s good about it?: Graphics, the writing, voice acting, the weapons and gameplay…pretty much everything. The PS3 is 1080i-compatible as long as you use an HDMI cord, and when you do, everything is crystal clear and most of it is better than the early CGI movies. It’s visually stunning, especially the wide action shots, like in the first level where you ride down something called a grind rail (think of it as a roller coaster that you slide down on special boots). As you ride the rail, a huge tower explodes and collapses behind you, and the physics of it is beautiful. It moves like an actual building. Also, Ratchet’s facial expressions are phenomenal. I’ve read that he has almost as many facial “joints” in this game as he did in his entire body in the last game for the PS2, which makes for lots of expression. R&C has been known for its funny writing and sly humor, and this one doesn’t fail to deliver.

What’s bad about it?: Not a whole lot. I won’t give away the ending (but this may be a little spoilery), but it ends on a cliffhanger, that, while I understood what they were doing (setting it up for the second part of the trilogy), it was still frustrating, because I wanted a wrapped-up ending. Also, it took me less than 7 hours to beat it. I didn’t want to put it down, but it was disappointing that it wasn’t a bit longer. R&C has always been a little short for me, but I wished it had been longer because I was having so much fun playing.

Rent or Buy?: I rented it. It does have some replay value, because you can go through a second time on a harder difficulty and get more bolts (the game’s currency) and upgraded weapons. Also, there’s an online multiplayer function that I didn’t use, but could theoretically be fun. I actually don’t have my PS3 hooked up to the internet, but I plan to do it sometime soon.

Final rating: 9 sheepinators out of a possible 10. (Sheepinators turn enemies into sheep, which I personally find hilarious.)

So, anyone played this? Tell me what you think!

~Ellie

Fat Friday - Fun and Flirty Fashion

I’d like two scoops of her confidence in a waffle cone, please. With sprinkles.

(Whoa. That almost sounds naughty!)

We interrupt this blog for a special shout out.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my Cute Canadian Geek! THIRTY YEARS! Phew! May those many pints of LaBatt Blue send you visions of maple leaves.

Love, M.

(I shamelessly nabbed this image from belchfire.net.)

A milestone in my caretaking career.

I made my first citizen’s arrest on Saturday!

Our little caretaker is becoming a woman. Aww…..

Things have been pretty quiet on the Apartment Caretaking front lately. Don’t get me wrong - that’s the way I prefer it. I’ve spent over three years whipping that place in to shape and filling it with residents that are respectful and responsible. I’ve got good people in there. But in case you’ve been missing all the craziness of my early years as a building manager, this should tide you over for a bit.

Saturday evening. Kiba and I head down to our basement studio to enjoy a tasty glazed bacon-flavor rawhide (Kiba) and to work on a never-ending hoodie sewing project for the Canadian’s upcoming birthday (Morgan). On the way I spy a group of guys drinkin’ and laughin’ on the front stoop. I pop my head out and remind them about open container laws in Minneapolis, and ask them to be mindful of residents coming in and out of the building. Since I didn’t recognize any of them, I asked which of them lived in the building. No one makes the claim but four guys are quick to point at one dude slouched over. I made a guess that he was the new “roommate” for one of my residents on the third floor. Check, and check. I hadn’t officially approved his roommate application yet, but I hadn’t expected problems either.

Not twenty minutes later I’m getting a call from Wonder-Lily (one of my new fav residents) and she’s pissed as hell - apparently there was a party in progress and they were stomping and falling around upstairs and it was driving her nuts. I head on up there to find the new “roommate” Bombed. Out. Of. His. Mind. At 8:30pm. (Awesome.) I tell everyone they need to quiet it down or move the party and after many solemn nods, I retreated back to my sewing machine. But not for long. Five minutes later Wonder-Lily is calling me back up to her place so I can hear the kind of banging she’s listening to. Now I’m mad.

I charge up the stairs - and believe me, in a 1930’s brownstone building with old stairs, there is no way to disguise the charge of a six foot tall fat woman. This was evidenced by the quick succession of men I see running out of the place as I’m running in. Most of them have their hands raised and are muttering things like, “I’m outta here. Don’t want none of this.” Damn straight. I make it in to the room and promptly scream, “What the FUCK did I just tell you?!?” The “roommate” is too bombed to even register. (Awesome.)

A quick call to my resident to let her know that her “roommate” has been evicted as of Right. Fucking. Now, and then a call in to Minneapolis’ finest to help me deal with a drunk and disorderly. They arrived much faster than I thought and went up to deal with The Bomber. I was happy to stand aside and listen to them lay down the law.

But wait! There’s a surprise! As I was standing on the third floor landing, waiting for the police to resolve my little situation, I heard the distinct tinkle of handcuffs and out walks one of the squirrely little bastards I’d seen earlier on the porch! He was hiding in the apartment! I follow the cops down the stairs to a chorus of “Please take these off. Please. You’re hurting me. Ow. I’m hurt. Please, please take these off,” and outside where I’m asked to fill out paperwork for a citizen’s arrest. Whee! As that’s going down, my resident shows up to deal with her “roommate” but instead of going upstairs she asks the cops to arrest him. No problem! Back up we go and a few minutes later they are escorting The Bomber to the drunk tank.

The following day I got a cute thank you note from Wonder-Lily thanking me for my attention to the previous night’s “situation.”

Fat Friday - So this little thing is what’s causing all the commotion.

I’ve studied this diagram very carefully, and I’m still not seeing what all the fuss is about!

Hmmm…..I see a fat reservoir. And I see a nucleus. I see some cellular squiggles - could those unlabeled squiggles in fact be what makes the fat cell so ZOMG EVIL? Is that where the laziness and the stupidity and the lack of willpower is stored??

Well, slap a lab coat on me and call me “Expert” - I think I’m on to something here.

I prayed for rain. Heavens, just let it fall.

Depression is not the first word I would pick to describe this particular state of affairs. I’m not depressed. I don’t think so, anyway. What I am is frantically, spastically, crazily desperate for solitude. I wanna be by myself. Desperately! I wanna make a nest of blankets on a covered porch somewhere and be surrounded by the sounds and smells of a downpour - lightning and thunder and the patter of raindrops on plants and sidewalks. I just wanna lay there and recharge my batteries.

Amy, Billy, Sovady, Lisa: I got your messages. I won’t be calling you back today. Tomorrow’s not looking too good for your either.

Ellie: I keep telling myself I’ll e-mail you. I keep not e-mailing you.

‘Stina: I prayed for rain and storms all day so that I could get out of the outdoor theater tickets we have for tonight. It’s raining outside right now, thank the stars.

Why do I feel like such a fucking asshole right now?