Archive for the ‘Personal Life’ Category

Ask a Fat Guy

Monday, May 10th, 2010

Ask a Fat GuyMy, how busy I have been. There have been so many projects, so much going on.

Not the least of which is the launching of a new blog with my buddy, Sean, and my brother, Lamont. It’s called Ask a Fat Guy and it’s an advice blog. Which is to say, that you, the reader, is to write in and ask advice of us fat guys. Then we respond to this request for advice in humorous fashion (and generally with an overabundance of swearing).

What makes this blog fairly unique in the world of advice columns is that in addition to the fat guys (Sean and myself), there’s also the fat guy’s brother (Lamont). And Lamont’s feature, Ask a Fat Guy’s Brother, will be illustrated by Lamont in humorous fashion. Any of you with any knowledge of Lamont’s artwork should be excited by that. (And if you’re not familiar with Lamont’s artwork, head over to Ask a Fat Guy and check out the logo, etc.; those were all drawn by Lamont.) Ask a Fat Guy’s Brother will run on Fridays, so make sure to check the blog out then, as well.

The blog launched today — just an hour or two ago, in fact. So you should head on over to http://askafatguy.net and check it out.

The Politics of Gerbils

Monday, February 1st, 2010

For the past three and a half years, I’ve had gerbils. This results from my old Seattle apartment being pet-free. I wanted something to cuddle and enjoy, so I got gerbils. For a time — a short time — I had two. Two boys: Jack and Ennis. It turns out that I was only half correct. Eight healthy babies and a name change (Ennis to Enid) later, I had ten. Then sixteen. Then more. Some of the offspring were relatively unusual colors (albino, honey, partial albino, etc.), but most were the standard dark brown ticked.

All told, Jack and Enid — and their progeny — made something like two dozen gerbils, over the course of about two and a half years. Some were given away, but the majority of them stayed with me.

A few nights ago, the last of my female gerbils died. I knew it wasn’t long for her for a number of reasons, not the least of which was her age. Moreover, her friend/sister/aunt/roommate/I’m-not-sure-what had died a few weeks ago, and gerbils don’t do well on their own. They’re social animals. She’d also had a stroke a few months ago. They can carry on for quite some time after a stroke, but a stroke pretty obviously shortens their life.

When she died, that left me with three boys. Two are the standard brown, one is albino. The two brown guys dislike the albino. And honestly, I can understand why. The albino gerbils (in my experience, anyhow) tend to be nippier and less friendly. They’ve bickered in the past, once to the point of bloodying the albino. And the other night, they did so again. For the past two nights, instead of getting to cuddle in the ger-pile, the albino has slept on the exercise wheel, all by himself. It’s the saddest thing you have ever seen. The two brown boys, huddled up with one another, and the albino, with blood stains on his fur, excluded and eating his lunch alone on the playground.

So I’ve separated them. I’ve arranged their tanks such that they share a common wall, so they can have maximum security prison-style visits. But, unfortunately, I think the two brown boys are going to kill the albino if I leave them together.

There’s probably an Israel/Palestine joke to be made here, but that’s not really a funny situation, so I won’t.

On Blenders and Indecisiveness

Wednesday, January 27th, 2010

The blade assembly of our two-ish year old blender got broken at some point in the last two months. Most likely, I would assume, in the move. The dome-shaped plastic bit that holds the blade at the top has a big crack in it. So liquids just seep out the bottom of the jar. Not so good for blending. Now, we have a two food processors — both a regular ol’ Cuisinart and a teeny-tiny KitchenAid (for the way it’s made), so I’ve been getting by. But I wanted to make salsa Mexicana the other night and as I limped through the task with the tiny KitchenAid processor, I decided that salsa Mexicana is a blender job. So today, in between waiting for clients to email me, talking to Lamont on the phone and staring at the wall, I decided to order a new blade.

“How can I help you?” asks the operator. I explain my situation to him and he says that sure, he can order one of those. A few moments later he informs me that it will be $18.70.

“Well,” I say, “that seems a bit steep since we only paid about $30 for the blender. So why don’t I think about it and call you guys back.”

“Would you like me to see if I can get it at a cheaper price?”

“Well… yeah. Sure.” And I go on hold for a few minutes. He returns and informs me that he can get the blade for $16.50. “Eh, let me talk to my girlfriend and see what she says,” I say.

“Oh. Wait. I just got another chat from my supervisor. I can give it to you for $13.01.”

“Does that include shipping?” I ask.

So the moral of the story is that haggling can often get you a better price, even in places that you wouldn’t really think there was any sort of price flexibility. Hemming and/or hawing in lieu of haggling may also work. And in ten to fourteen business days? My ass is going to have a working blender again. USA!

King Louie: Foster Cat/Model

Thursday, January 21st, 2010

Photographing cats can be somewhat difficult. By and large, your best bet is going into their environment and just letting them do their thing. With really skittish cats (Mr. Mistoffolees), sitting across the room and shooting with a long lens can be a fairly good method.

King LouieBut King Louie the foster cat isn’t in his own environment; he’s in mine,. And he’s quite a bit more interested in playing with his various things-on-a-stick and jingly balls than sitting still in front of the odd sounding flashy thing that I’m attempting to stick in his face. He doesn’t quite understand — nor does he really appear to care — how to sit still and look pretty for the camera. But his extreme cuteness makes up for any lack of experience.

He’s still being a bit skittish with me (not really with Betsy, though, he seems to like her quite a bit), but he’s not at all unfriendly. He ’s going to be a lap cat, once he’s used to his surroundings.

And, of course, he needs a home. If you’re interested, get hold of me and I’ll put you in contact with the proper authorities.

King Louie

King Louie, the Foster Cat

Thursday, January 21st, 2010

We have a new member of our household, albeit a temporary one: King Louie, the 9 month old Maine Coon foster cat. He’s been here for less than 24 hours, so he’s still a bit skittish. Also, despite the fact that he’s a mere 9 months old, he’s already the same weight as Mister Mistoffolees. He’s also larger.

This is going to be a very big cat.

Unfortunately, his previous owners chose to surrender him. The reasons primarily appear to have been stupidity on their part; they have a 1 year old baby and got Louie when he was a kitten. As a lifelong non-parent, I don’t know everything there is to know about children. However, I do know something about cats, and choosing to get a kitten while you have a newborn isn’t the smartest of moves. They also had him declawed, a procedure for which I have nothing but loathing and contempt.

Despite his heretofore troubled home life, he’s managed to come out largely unscathed, personality-wise. He’s very cuddly and sweet. He’s up for adoption, should you wish to add him to your hopefully-mellow household.