scrappybadger September 5th, 2007
I just finished Ken Foster’s The Dogs Who Found Me. Read my review if you’d like.
I don’t remember if I mentioned it in a previous post, but his interview with Terri Gross made me run out and buy the book the very same day which is pretty much unheard of for me.
scrappybadger August 31st, 2007
Don’t do it. Seriously. If at this moment you are both fat and breathing then just stop it. If not for yourself then for the rest of us. You are fucking everything up, and we don’t have enough oxygen to power that body of yours.
Every day. That’s how often my right to exist is questioned. Some days, most days, I fight it; I recognize the fear that is behind that message. I know that fat is hated and that everyone is afraid of being associated with that hatred, so most of the time I meet it with the same kind of disdain I have for misogyny, racism, or homophobia. Meanwhile, I’m working overtime not to internalize it. It’s like radioactive slime in a comic book. You see it coming and you know if it gets on you that’s it, so you run and you fight back at it trying not to trip, hoping that it doesn’t have the ability to sling itself in your direction. All it takes is one drop and you are done for, so you struggle and you run. Every day feels like that to me, like I’m constantly running, trying not to let the fear and hatred spewing in my direction get on me and work its way into my head.
I have to fight it because I’ve given in before, and it wasn’t pretty. It didn’t make me thin to hate myself for being fat. It didn’t make me feel good about myself, didn’t get me lots of dates, didn’t change my life for the better, and it sure didn’t make me healthier. No, the realization that I was a horrible person for being fat didn’t do anything good for me. And no matter how many times I went to the gym, berating myself for needing to go in the first place, life never got better. No matter how many times I threw up — in the bathroom when my roommate was out or locked in my bedroom, head hung inside of a trash bag, when someone was home — I didn’t feel better about myself. One year in college I would take my Walkman, loaded with angry music, and walk to the post office 4 miles away to mail my bills. I was exercising, and I screamed self-hatred inside of my head to the music in my ears. Despite the mad walking, I don’t think I ever really lost any weight, or if I did it wasn’t enough to make me remember.
So I know I can’t give in. Been there, done that, and it sucked. What sucks just as much is knowing that this is what I have to look forward to — a constant struggle to assert my right to sit here/eat/be comfortable/be liked/find clothes/fill-in-the-neverending-blank. The latest reminder comes in the form of airline tickets. I’ve been dreading it ever since I got the notice that my paper proposal was accepted to a conference too many miles away to drive. To keep the anxiety at bay I have told myself that I can back out. I can make up an excuse, I can lie, I can just say I’m not coming. The thing is, I really want to go.
I’ve only really travelled once. I was 16 and was able to go on a school sponsored trip to France and Spain. It was only 9 days long, and I don’t remember much about it, but I did it. I went somewhere. Other than that I’ve been exactly one state away in each direction except to the north. I’ve been two states to the north. Two very small states. I live, right now, 45 minutes away from where I grew up; 20 minutes from the hospital where I was born; 30 minutes from my elementary and high schools. My parents live in the same county they’ve always lived. All of my grandparents except one grandmother live in the same area they’ve always lived. My family doesn’t move, and they don’t go anywhere. Ever. That’s fine really, but it isn’t what I want for myself. I want to experience new places. It is fun and exciting to go someplace new.
Most of the time it’s a money issue for Piig and me. We can’t afford to go anywhere. In fact, we can’t really afford this particular trip, but we decided to do it anyway. We’ve given ourselves permission to spend money in order to build the beginnings of my academic career, and we’re secretly giddy about the idea that we will also get to go somewhere.
We are taking a big financial leap. That and the idea of flying – in a plane, where I can’t touch the ground, where I can’t even see the ground, where I’m trapped inside with no way out – is scary enough. The added pressure of extra seats, seat belt extenders, and fat hating passengers and flight attendants is making me really nervous. Our decision as of right now is to go ahead and book two seats for me. I’m afraid that if we don’t one or more of the airlines we’re flying will require that I buy an extra seat the day of the flight, and not knowing the cost of day-of tickets is just out of the question. I can’t run the risk of some outrageously priced last minute seat. To make matters worse, the blatant hostility exhibited by most airlines when dealing with fat passengers is unbelievable. Piig sent me a copy of Continental’s extra seat policy. I especially like the way they require that you be able to buckle your seat belt with one extension but are unable to tell you the exact length of the extenders available on the plane you are booking. Additionally, “the carry-on allowance is not doubled” despite the fact that I will be paying for two tickets. This presents a big problem for me. Where oh where will I keep all of my snack cakes, chips, soda, and that large cheese pizza that I’d planned to bring if I can only have one bag? After all, no fat traveller can be on a plane for more than 30 minutes without a supersized snack, right?
I’m frustrated and worried about travelling. Maybe I’d feel better if I boarded the plane wearing this t-shirt.
scrappybadger August 23rd, 2007
And it ain’t frozen peas. It all started last night. The ice maker/water dispenser* on the front of our fridge tried to dispense ice, but noone was there asking for it.
Today it’s worse. Nothing will make it stop. It’s kind of like that Poltergeist movie, but instead of a little kid with blonde curls staring into a tv, there’s a weirdo grey cat staring at my refrigerator.
Take a look at the thing for yourself. I took this movie with my cell phone.
Rough translation of what you are hearing goes something like this: “Don’t make me angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”
*That ice crusher/dispenser was the thing we were most excited about when we first moved in. We’ll have to consider moving if the landlord can’t fix this thing!
scrappybadger August 19th, 2007
Ok, not exactly lights, but cool nevertheless.
Check out Matron’s DOGBLOG.
scrappybadger August 18th, 2007
A few of our tomato plants have outgrown their cages lately, so we decided to get some wooden stakes after work yesterday. We went to one of those big box hardware stores. I don’t think it is right to name names, so I won’t tell you which one it was, but it rhymes with Lowe’s. We avoid big chains when we can, but there isn’t a local hardware store near us. There are a few garden centers, but they didn’t have what we needed. Plus, we were still nursing a gift card from Christmas.
While we were there we decided to spend some money we didn’t have on something we really need. We looked at electric weedeaters. They are, after all, the only ones near our price range. Most of the ones they still had in stock had been opened, taken out of the box, and messed with. When I asked for a discount, after waiting forever for an answer, some guy came up and told me that they come off the truck that way. “You mean opened like this?” I asked. “Yep. It’s all there. Do you want me to show it to you?” I wanted to punch him in his gut. I know what a goddamned weedeater should look like. I just looked at Piig and told her we’d buy something else as I walked away.
I might not work at a hardware store and, thankfully, I don’t have a cock, but I know damn well that boxes don’t come from the factory already ripped open. They might be banged up, but they don’t seal the boxes and then tear open the tape and cardboard for the hell of it.
I decided we should get the cheap one, use it within the 30 day return policy and then take it back before it has time to break. I mean seriously, it isn’t as if a weedeater that cheap is going to work for long anyway, if at all. And if your morality meter just went off, if you think I’m a horrible person for hatching such a scheme or that I’m “part of what’s wrong with this world” then kindly dismiss yourself from this blog because there is no room for you here. Part of what is truly wrong with this world is that our landlords can jack up the rent and still expect us to be able to maintain an acceptable looking yard.
Later, I couldn’t find any cable ties, so I asked two (the first one told me the wrong aisle) guys where I’d find them. BOTH of them corrected me. First guy: ”You mean zip ties?” Second guy: “Zip strips?” When I finally found them, EVERY SINGLE BOX said CABLE TIES. The word zip wasn’t on ANY of them.
We harvested a disgustingly phallic cucumber the other day. Maybe I should shellac it, put a string through, tie it around my waist, and let it swing between my knees the next time I need something hardware related.
scrappybadger August 17th, 2007
I got the bound copy of my thesis yesterday! It was quite exciting, much more so than I thought it would be. I expected some crappy paperboard binding with a big green strip of library tape holding it all together. Instead, I got a black, hardback copy with the title, year, and my name printed on the outside. I’m almost glad that the university forced to me to buy at least one copy before I could graduate.
This is what my thesis looked like before.
I was playing with my cell phone and took pictures of it in sketch mode. What you’re seeing is the journal that I used for all of my notes and preliminary drafts. You’ll see several tabs sticking out, but those multiplied. Their babies came in every size, color, and shape that you can imagine. Though organized, it was a mess.
This is what my thesis looks like now.
Quite lovely isn’t it? I swear you’d be more impressed if you’d written part of it.
I will treasure it forever and ever, or until I reread it and am so embarrassed that I scratch the fake gold lettering off the outside.
scrappybadger August 16th, 2007
The new National Geographic movie, Arctic Tale, might help. It has tons of ice water shots that look pretty inviting when it is hot outside. Unfortunately, there just isn’t enough ice. The movie highlights the effects of global warming on animal populations in the Arctic wildlife, and, as we’ve heard a lot lately, shrinking ice deposits are one of the biggest dangers to the animals.
We saw it as part of a free sneak preview, but proceeds for regular ticket sales go to fund organizations doing work in the Arctic.
I really liked it, and it would have been even better if all those loud-mouthed kids had stayed home. Geez, isn’t there some kind of ordinance against bringing them in public before the age of 15?
scrappybadger August 14th, 2007
Has anyone out there read White Teeth by Zadie Smith or seen the Masterpiece Theatre adaptation? It was briefly mentioned on a professional email list I belong to, and my curiosity was piqued.
scrappybadger August 14th, 2007
I tend to dote on anything I plant, especially if it is a fruit or vegetable producer. That’s why I was scouring the internet this morning looking for reasons why our tomatillo plant keeps dropping blooms. I asked someone at the garden center where we buy all of our plants, and he recommended a tomato bloom setting spray. It wasn’t, of course, organic, so I passed, and we’ve been hoping for the best since then. Some people say you need more than one tomatillo for pollination purposes. It will really suck if that is true. We only bought one since we’re short on garden space, and we wanted to see how successful it would be before trying more than one plant.
My research this morning has me thinking I might still get some salsa verde, though! Many gardeners report not getting fruit until late August or even September. I hope that’s the case with ours. The plant itself is so nice and healthy, and it brings all sorts of cute bumble bees into the garden. It has nice yellow flowers too, but geez, I want some fruit. Wish us luck.
I happened upon this really cool gardening blog. I love her cucumber arch idea. I’m thinking it would be a great use of space near our heat pump. I wonder if the cucumbers would mind the breeze from the fan.
Oh, and apparently tomatillos will come back on their own each year. That would be awesome, and I can’t wait to see if we get some next year.
Scrappy Badger
49 Posts
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since April '07
Pigeons: The Fascinating Saga of the World’s Most Revered and Reviled Bird by Andrew D. Blechman
The Body Project: An Intimate History of American Girls by Joan Jacobs Brumberg
The Woman Who Did by Grant Allen
