My neighbor has been evicted; he's spent the last 12+ hours clearing out his house and packing a trailer. He was supposed to be out by midnight, but it's 4:20 a.m., and I can still hear him bumping around on the other side of the wall. I talked to him tonight and he's moving out of state, to where his girlfriend lives. Unfortunately, he has two cats and his girlfriend is allergic. One he's found a home for. The other he asked if I wanted, or if I knew somebody, because otherwise he'll take him to the pound.

I need another cat like a damn hole in the head. I need another cat like I needed another dog. I really cannot take any more stray animals in--I'm already over the limit, buried in pet hair, and without enough attention to spread out to the five I have. I don't know anybody who wants another cat; my family members are all full up on pets and/or don't like cats. I haven't heard any of my friends talking about wanting a cat. If I go knock on his door and take in this cat to try to find him a home, the chances of me actually finding him a home are ridiculously low.

But ... how can I just let a poor innocent kitty go to the pound? I know how many cats end up in the pound, and I know how many never leave it alive. The shelters do the best they can, of course. And I can't save every animal in the world. And I need to not be such a soft-hearted idiot and take problems on to myself.

But since talking to my neighbor two and a half hours ago, I've thought of almost nothing else. It kills me to think of a cat I might be able to save being dumped in a shelter and living in a little box.

Just typing this crap out just made me crack. I went next door and took the cat. He's not neutered, and one of my girls isn't spayed, so I have to keep him isolated. They'd make pretty babies, but that's just not something I need to be dealing with right now. In fact, I don't need to be dealing with any of this right now, but .... yeah. I'll see if anybody I know wants him; if they don't, I'll take him to the no-kill foundation a few towns over.

But right now, I have another cat. FML.

Last night I lost my temper a bit with one of the cooks. He's one of those borderline alcoholic, wannabe hood, thoroughly average guys who thinks he's The Shit. I was walking through the kitchen to get something, and one of my coworkers was standing by the food line. This girl drives me up a damn wall; I think she's a complete idiot, that she sleeps around out of a lack of self-esteem, and that she's way too willing to let men walk all over her. As far as I know, she and this AFC (asshat fry cook) aren't really friends; he just thinks it's fun to pick on her because she gets riled up and, sadly, probably lets his comments get under her skin.

Anyway, she grabbed a French fry out of the fry bin, and as she was eating it, AFC says to her, "Stop eating! You're like a fucking cow!"

A mish-mash of things I've read about the connection between dieting, misogyny, and control rushed through my mind. The girl was already "defending" herself--not by telling him to fuck off, of course, but by saying she hadn't eaten that day. I glared at AFC as I stalked by and told him "It's none of your damn business what she eats, don't be so fucking rude."

Of course, AFC and his fellow asshat broil cook immediately started mocking me, mimicking me saying "that's soooo rude!" and other things. I don't care--they left my coworker alone, and I've got a hell of a lot more self-confidence than she does, so the little bastards can try to cow me if they want. Good luck with that, boys.

I know it's a very little thing; it certainly isn't earth-shaking. But I'm glad that reacting to those sorts of things has become normal for me. I used to be so afraid of rocking the boat I wouldn't speak up; I used to be afraid of being mocked for going against the societal norms that say I should shut up and not get involved. I used to think I had no right to speak up, because I'm a fatass, so naturally my opinions aren't valid. FUCK THAT NOISE.

It may not change things; AFC may not think twice next time he wants to say something like that, and my female coworker may continue accepting it. But maybe it at least planted an idea that that shit isn't okay.

Of course, I'm still working on that in my own life, too. I had to shoot my own father down for something like this tonight; he asked where I was, and I told him I had a coupon for a free burrito so I was at Qdoba. His response was, "Well that sounds fattening. Shouldn't you be eating something with less carbs?"

I paused for a second before answering, because I almost responded similar to how my coworker did--with justifications. But you know what? Even though he's my father, it's still not really his business.

So I paraphrased a line from an Anita Blake book. "You didn't know I was eating when you called, so I'm pretty sure you didn't call to lecture me about my dinner." We got to the actual point of his phone call then.

After making kiwi cupcakes last week, I decided to swap the kiwi for mango and make it a cake. I wasn't sure how well it would work; I'm certainly no baking expert. But I reasoned that by taste at least, kiwi and mango have approximately the same sugar and acid content, so it should be simple enough.

My recipe was essentially the same as the kiwi cupcake recipe, but my first order of business was to figure out how, exactly, you slice a mango. The last time I tried, I approached it like you'd slice an avocado. Er, no.



Once I'd sliced up the mango, I turned the oven on to 350 degrees and started on the cake.

Mango Cake

• 1/2c softened butter
• 3/4c superfine sugar
• 3 eggs
• 1 1/4c self-rising flour
• 1/2c sour cream
• 1 finely chopped average-sized mango.

• Cream butter and sugar together until fluffy.
• Add eggs one at a time. I'm starting to get the hang of cracking an egg one-handed.
• Beat in the flour 1/4c at a time.
• Add in all sour cream at once and blend until well mixed.
• Add lemon juice and blend well. (I was planning on leaving out the lemon juice caused for the original recipe, but the batter seemed a tad thick so I ended up squeezing in approximately 1T of lemon juice and blending it in.)
• Fold in diced mango.
• I gave the batter about a one minute mix on medium at this point. I wanted to have large chunks of fruit, but also wanted the flavor to be spread out a little more in the cake.

I poured the batter into a floured, waxed paper lined 8x8 (or a 9 inch diameter round pan) metal pan and baked it about 25 minutes, until the top was just starting to turn golden.

Meanwhile, I went to make my strawberry frosting and discovered that my strawberries were moldy. Damn! I had a kiwi, but I thought it might be too tart. I had raspberries, but they have too many seeds, I didn't want to deal with it. And then my eyes alighted on the half bottle of Arbor Mist Exotic Fruits White Zin on the door of my fridge and thought ... well, that might be interesting.

Sweet Zinfandel Frosting

• 1/2c softened butter
• 4oz softened cream cheese
• 2c powdered sugar
• approx. 1/4c sweet wine--I'd measured out 1/2c and found the consistency I wanted came at about half that amount, but YMMV.
  

• Cream butter until fluffy.
• Add cream cheese and blend well.
• Add in powdered sugar slowly--I did about 1/4c at a time.
• Pour in wine and blend thoroughly.
  

Frost cake and refrigerate for an hour or so to let the frosting set. I took a quarter of the cake to my mom, who shared it with her husband and sister-in-law; I took half to work; everybody loved it! A couple of days later people were still telling me how great it was, and a couple people asked for the recipe. The cake was sweet and super moist; the mango pieces were incredible! And the frosting had a creamy, tart taste with only slight hint of alcohol flavor.

I did this one after work tonight, while waiting for the girl I was giving a ride home. Took me about an hour, and I did fumble that second word, but I did it 100% on my own. No help from coworkers, no looking stuff up online.

I think playing that damn frustrating sudoku has made me a lot more patient!

That would be a crossword, completed, and 99% done by me. I did have to look up two words: one because when my coworker tore it out of the paper she left that clue behind, and the other because I wasn't sure if "preminger" was a name or half a city or a title or what.

Still! I didn't get frustrated and toss the thing out, like I normally do. I tend to complicate it too much. For example, if the clue is "of (blank); to some degree" I start searching my vocab for a five letter word that fits the bill. "a sort" doesn't occur to me--isn't that sort of cheating, to make it two words? Anyway, I usually get annoyed and leave it for someone else to finish.

My brain feels pleasantly exercised.
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So tonight while I was waiting for the cooks to finish hosing down the floors so I could do my sidework, I wandered out to the table where my now-ex-roommate was eating. She had ordered hot wings and a chocolate chip cookie sundae, because 1) the other hostess wanted some and 2) no one's food is sacred in that place and she knew it'd be munched on by everyone else and 3) none of that matters, she was hungry and doesn't have to justify what she eats. Not that it matters, but my friend is skinny. She's perfectly healthy-looking and proportionate. To be honest, she's hot.

So I was really surprised when I walked up and she whispered to me that the three guys--total strangers--at the table next to her (two feet away) had been commenting on what she was eating. As in "oh my god, look at how much she's ordered! Look at all that food! I can't believe she's eating all that!" Like I said, they were two feet away; they made no effort to keep their voices down. They sat there, two feet from my friend, commenting on how much she was eating. When the other hostess came up and took a bite of the dessert, all three of them stared at her. Then they went back to commenting on my friend's food every time she took a bite.

Now, I'm sure we're all guilty at one point or another of judging what other people eat. I know back in my self-hating dieting days, I would look at fat people eating "unhealthy" foods, or large portions, and think uncharitable things. I still sometimes envy people who can put away all the food they want and be smaller than me. Sometimes I still catch myself thinking "what's the point of ordering diet Pepsi with that meal?"

But I would never, ever sit next to a total stranger and comment on their food! Well, okay, if it was something bizarre I might whisper to my friend that it looked disgusting, but I wouldn't vocally judge someone's meal and how much they were eating. I expect assholes to do it when I dare to eat and be fat in public; but for someone to rag on an average-sized woman, whom they'd never seen before, within her hearing range? Because she dared to have an appetizer and a dessert? Are you fucking kidding me?

Had we been out to eat, I would've turned to them and demanded to know what their goddamn problem was. But since I was in uniform and they were at work, I couldn't be directly rude. Instead, I stepped back from my friend a bit and said, quite loudly, "You know, I think it's really rude and inappropriate for strangers to comment on what other people are eating."

My friend about choked on her hot wing. I managed to keep a straight face and not even look at the assholes next to us. The other hostess asked what I was talking about, so my friend very quietly told her; I don't remember exactly what I said, but it was in the same vein, and it was quite loud.

I was very pleased when, about thirty seconds later, the asshats got up and left--leaving half-full beers. I didn't look at them as they passed, and I barely moved out of their way for them to leave, leaving my fat, full-meal-eating ass mostly in their way. I hope they're suitably humiliated for their douchehound-ness.