Dear Blob & Pals-Who-Feel-Plump,
The anorexic vodka-for-meals-girls of Lalaland squishing your outer-beauty-confidence? Been running, doing yoga, pilates, crunches, the cleanse & still have genetic cellulite & a tummy pouch? Peeps, a great way to feel fit, healthy & trim is a trip to the Deep South! It's normal there for girls to carry an extra 20 - 30 pounds - they are the slim ones! Chubby is up to 75 pounds overweight!
Love The Ukulady
ps: I'm pro-Madonna-adopting-third-world-children.
Showing posts with label Fat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fat. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
My New TV BFF!
Dear Blob -
I have acquired a TV show. An evening where I have to watch my show. I haven' had a show since Party of Five. My Show is on Sunday nights and is about my new best TV friend, Ruby Gettinger and her journey to lose HundredS of pounds. I've developed a fascination with morbid obesity, recently watching youtube videos of people who fit this description, including the 400 pound 7 year old, which was terribly disturbing. Child protective services didn't intervene until 400 pounds! Where were they at 150? Who lets a child get over 200 pounds? In the most recent youtube videos, the child is now 10 and weighs around 130, but has bowed legs from her earlier immense poundage.
Ruby!, produced by her celebrity real-life BFF, Brittney Daniels, recognized by my manpanion as the starlet from "Joe Dirt", is totally compelling and touching TV. I am bummed that Ruby is probably now too famous to be my real BFF, but she is totally my TV BFF. She's a beautiful morbidly obese woman, which is neccessary for TV. No ugly fat people, pretty only! She has 2 adorable gay roommate/BFF's and she makes me want to use words I hate, like Heartfelt and HeartWarming.
The concern I have for Ruby and all other obese-weight-loss-focused people, is the seeming lack of re-training in the kitchen that is neccessary for lifelong weight-control. Trainers, nutritionists and psychiatrists are invested in Ruby's weight-loss journey, but she needs cooking school. An immersion in healthy and affordable (no Whole Foods/Whole Paycheck) grocery shopping and cooking.
I grew up in a household where Cornflakes were a sugar cereal. It is ingrained in me that American Cheese slices are junk food. No overweight person will keep weight off without learning to cook yummy, healthy food every day. Cooking every day is a lot of work, leads to many dirty dishes and takes a lot of energy that most people don't have, as a result of our society's ridiculous 40 - 80 hour work weeks. Gyms should start a fleet of home chefs who train weight-loss-seekers how to cook.
Meanwhile, I wish Ruby was on every night and I send her Ukulady heartsies.
Love The Ukulady
ps: Sundays at 8pm on Style Network and she has a website.
pps: I requested her facebook friendship, but I think she's too famous now.
I have acquired a TV show. An evening where I have to watch my show. I haven' had a show since Party of Five. My Show is on Sunday nights and is about my new best TV friend, Ruby Gettinger and her journey to lose HundredS of pounds. I've developed a fascination with morbid obesity, recently watching youtube videos of people who fit this description, including the 400 pound 7 year old, which was terribly disturbing. Child protective services didn't intervene until 400 pounds! Where were they at 150? Who lets a child get over 200 pounds? In the most recent youtube videos, the child is now 10 and weighs around 130, but has bowed legs from her earlier immense poundage.
Ruby!, produced by her celebrity real-life BFF, Brittney Daniels, recognized by my manpanion as the starlet from "Joe Dirt", is totally compelling and touching TV. I am bummed that Ruby is probably now too famous to be my real BFF, but she is totally my TV BFF. She's a beautiful morbidly obese woman, which is neccessary for TV. No ugly fat people, pretty only! She has 2 adorable gay roommate/BFF's and she makes me want to use words I hate, like Heartfelt and HeartWarming.
The concern I have for Ruby and all other obese-weight-loss-focused people, is the seeming lack of re-training in the kitchen that is neccessary for lifelong weight-control. Trainers, nutritionists and psychiatrists are invested in Ruby's weight-loss journey, but she needs cooking school. An immersion in healthy and affordable (no Whole Foods/Whole Paycheck) grocery shopping and cooking.
I grew up in a household where Cornflakes were a sugar cereal. It is ingrained in me that American Cheese slices are junk food. No overweight person will keep weight off without learning to cook yummy, healthy food every day. Cooking every day is a lot of work, leads to many dirty dishes and takes a lot of energy that most people don't have, as a result of our society's ridiculous 40 - 80 hour work weeks. Gyms should start a fleet of home chefs who train weight-loss-seekers how to cook.
Meanwhile, I wish Ruby was on every night and I send her Ukulady heartsies.
Love The Ukulady
ps: Sundays at 8pm on Style Network and she has a website.
pps: I requested her facebook friendship, but I think she's too famous now.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Why America is Fat!
Dear Blob!
I realized why America is fat! America is not fat, it's unbalanced. All the prettiest 'n' slimmest boys and girls of small-town America moved to Los Angeles to make money on their hottness, leaving the less-attractive, overweight people behind to re-populate small-town America with fat 'n' unsightly offspring! The Hot 'n' Slim People moved to LA and NYC where they make fortunes on their genetically or anorexia-induced cellulite-free bodies. There is no obesity epidemic in America, it just seems that way because all the super slim people live in LA!
If Super-Slim Susan lived in Witherspoon, Wisconsin and mated with Chubby Chad, their offspring would be normal. Instead, Super-Slim Susan moves to LA and mates with Closeted-Super-Hot-Todd and they create super-skinny, celebrity-obsessed children; the nouveau native Angelenos!
I know this theory does not take into account the Super-Sizing of American portions, which probably caused Small-Town-Tina to blossom from pleasingly-plump to ovally-obese. However, if all the super-slim, triple-hot model-types would return to Velveeta, Florida or Gingham, Montana, America would re-balance itself and the obesity epidemic would disappear, leaving towns of normal-sized people; The Fatties and the Bony Ones, creating fleets of height and weight proportionate people. Obesity Epidemic solved.
Love The Ukulady
ps: I dislike Keira Knightly and her irritating, pursed-lip pout-pose. That annoying lips-poised, pushed-outward look is also popular with the talentless Olsen Twins.
pps: While I admire the naturally-enormous lips of Angelina Jolie and Michelle Pfeiffer, I am deeply bothered by popularity of the collagen-lip-enhancement. I wish everyone who gets plastic surgery would receive, along with their primary consultation, a photo of Kanye West's mother, who died from cosmetic surgery.
I realized why America is fat! America is not fat, it's unbalanced. All the prettiest 'n' slimmest boys and girls of small-town America moved to Los Angeles to make money on their hottness, leaving the less-attractive, overweight people behind to re-populate small-town America with fat 'n' unsightly offspring! The Hot 'n' Slim People moved to LA and NYC where they make fortunes on their genetically or anorexia-induced cellulite-free bodies. There is no obesity epidemic in America, it just seems that way because all the super slim people live in LA!
If Super-Slim Susan lived in Witherspoon, Wisconsin and mated with Chubby Chad, their offspring would be normal. Instead, Super-Slim Susan moves to LA and mates with Closeted-Super-Hot-Todd and they create super-skinny, celebrity-obsessed children; the nouveau native Angelenos!
I know this theory does not take into account the Super-Sizing of American portions, which probably caused Small-Town-Tina to blossom from pleasingly-plump to ovally-obese. However, if all the super-slim, triple-hot model-types would return to Velveeta, Florida or Gingham, Montana, America would re-balance itself and the obesity epidemic would disappear, leaving towns of normal-sized people; The Fatties and the Bony Ones, creating fleets of height and weight proportionate people. Obesity Epidemic solved.
Love The Ukulady
ps: I dislike Keira Knightly and her irritating, pursed-lip pout-pose. That annoying lips-poised, pushed-outward look is also popular with the talentless Olsen Twins.
pps: While I admire the naturally-enormous lips of Angelina Jolie and Michelle Pfeiffer, I am deeply bothered by popularity of the collagen-lip-enhancement. I wish everyone who gets plastic surgery would receive, along with their primary consultation, a photo of Kanye West's mother, who died from cosmetic surgery.
Monday, August 11, 2008
My Now-Fat Enemy
Dear Blob,
As unicornrainbow-glitterponymagic peace-loving-Northern California-Child-O'-Hippies, as I am, I can still be vindictive, judgmental and occasionally, mean. However, when that occurs, it is usually for a good reason. Today in yoga class I saw, for the first time in a year, my former neighbor, who betrayed me in the most hideously-betrayingly-repulsive way as possible (details are uneccessary, but do know, Blob, this Former Neighbor took my Dad and I to court, where she was humiliated by the judge for being uneducated, ridiculous and caseless). In yoga today, I was pleased to see that she is now Fat.
Love The Ukulady
ps: Fat for her - she'd probably gained 25 pounds. Meaty, perhaps.
pps: She'd been a bony slimsy-etta before.
ppps: While I am not the slimmest, I kicked ass in yoga, while she and her newly-thickened body, had to take child-pose multiple times.
pppps: Of course, it is in one-love yoga class where I was challenged by the universe.
ppppps: This former neighbor had once been a close friend, not some regular neighbor. The kind of friend who confides in you and is pretty much a roommate, because she spends so much time at your cleaner-than-her-because-of-her-dirty-roommate house. I guess I'm still angry.
As unicornrainbow-glitterponymagic peace-loving-Northern California-Child-O'-Hippies, as I am, I can still be vindictive, judgmental and occasionally, mean. However, when that occurs, it is usually for a good reason. Today in yoga class I saw, for the first time in a year, my former neighbor, who betrayed me in the most hideously-betrayingly-repulsive way as possible (details are uneccessary, but do know, Blob, this Former Neighbor took my Dad and I to court, where she was humiliated by the judge for being uneducated, ridiculous and caseless). In yoga today, I was pleased to see that she is now Fat.
Love The Ukulady
ps: Fat for her - she'd probably gained 25 pounds. Meaty, perhaps.
pps: She'd been a bony slimsy-etta before.
ppps: While I am not the slimmest, I kicked ass in yoga, while she and her newly-thickened body, had to take child-pose multiple times.
pppps: Of course, it is in one-love yoga class where I was challenged by the universe.
ppppps: This former neighbor had once been a close friend, not some regular neighbor. The kind of friend who confides in you and is pretty much a roommate, because she spends so much time at your cleaner-than-her-because-of-her-dirty-roommate house. I guess I'm still angry.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Cupcake & Swizzle Stick in "Fat!"
Cupcake & SwizzleStick in "Fat!"
www.myspace.com/CupcakeAndSwizzleStick
www.myspace.com/CupcakeAndSwizzleStick
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
I Heart Fat Seatmates & Gay Men!
Dear Blob,
I like sitting next to fat women. It makes me feel slim. In other news, I've discovered why gay men go out to the theater and other cultural events: besides entertainment, they also go cruising.
Love The Ukulady
ps: According to a gay man I met last night, Jamie Lyn Spears isn't pregnant by her 18 year old frat boy boyfriend, but scandalously knocked up by some 35 year old Nickelodeon exec who produces her Nickelodeon tweenager show.
pps: The gay man informant works for some entertainment news company, so I feel pretty confidant this information is thumbs upsies!
I like sitting next to fat women. It makes me feel slim. In other news, I've discovered why gay men go out to the theater and other cultural events: besides entertainment, they also go cruising.
Love The Ukulady
ps: According to a gay man I met last night, Jamie Lyn Spears isn't pregnant by her 18 year old frat boy boyfriend, but scandalously knocked up by some 35 year old Nickelodeon exec who produces her Nickelodeon tweenager show.
pps: The gay man informant works for some entertainment news company, so I feel pretty confidant this information is thumbs upsies!
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Own The Roll As You Would A Pet
Dear Blob,
Due to a busy travel schedule, I've been unable to maintain my usual Anusara yoga regime; around thrice weekly, give or take. I heart yoga (see www.TheUkuLady.com songpage song "I Heart Yoga") and now that I'm well into my "25 Again!" years, find yoga is essential to my general well-being. I've always been a "curvy" girl, described once by theater critics as "zaftig", and in the past year, thanks to yoga, was thrilled to discover I have hipbones and ab muscles! These were new bodyparts to me, having only heard about them in health class and seen them on TV and on my slim friends. How quickly these "ab"muscles disappear.... I realized today, in yoga, that my core (fancy LA word for ab muscles) has once again, become A Pet. There are ab muscles under My Pet, but The Roll has, thanks to Thanksgiving (not with Hugo Chavez's grandson) and last week's Vegas Buffet (Vegas blog coming very soon...) re-expanded, and can comfortably be described as A Pet. My Best-Gay-Friend-in-Chicago says "Own The Roll!". And I do. Like a pet.
Love The UkuLady
ps: My-Best-Straight-Guy-Friend-in-LA heard a strict mother firmly tell her child, "We're not leaving until you finish your soda! Finish your soda!" A Roll Pet in the making...
Due to a busy travel schedule, I've been unable to maintain my usual Anusara yoga regime; around thrice weekly, give or take. I heart yoga (see www.TheUkuLady.com songpage song "I Heart Yoga") and now that I'm well into my "25 Again!" years, find yoga is essential to my general well-being. I've always been a "curvy" girl, described once by theater critics as "zaftig", and in the past year, thanks to yoga, was thrilled to discover I have hipbones and ab muscles! These were new bodyparts to me, having only heard about them in health class and seen them on TV and on my slim friends. How quickly these "ab"muscles disappear.... I realized today, in yoga, that my core (fancy LA word for ab muscles) has once again, become A Pet. There are ab muscles under My Pet, but The Roll has, thanks to Thanksgiving (not with Hugo Chavez's grandson) and last week's Vegas Buffet (Vegas blog coming very soon...) re-expanded, and can comfortably be described as A Pet. My Best-Gay-Friend-in-Chicago says "Own The Roll!". And I do. Like a pet.
Love The UkuLady
ps: My-Best-Straight-Guy-Friend-in-LA heard a strict mother firmly tell her child, "We're not leaving until you finish your soda! Finish your soda!" A Roll Pet in the making...
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
UkuLady in Houston & Cameltoe FatPouch!
Dear Blog,
I write this from the Everybody-Is-Allowed-Area of Houston Hobby Airport, where the native Texans flock to bid farewells. Everything really is Bigger in Texas. The American Obesity Epidemic is in full bloom here at the Houston airport. In one way, it’s refreshing to be amidst absolutely zero junkie-style-meth-freak hipsters; the Silverlake (LA) Mission (SF) Williamsburg (NYC) artsy hipsters (of which, I’m admittedly, probably one), with super skinny jeans and shaggy/wispy haircuts and eighties-style ballerina flats (although I have none of the above). Although the hipsters are lacking, flats, the shoe, are all over the Houston airport, along with the cork-heeled wedgie; however most of the flats here in Houston encircle sausage-like feet, stuffed into the pleather and fleshily bursting below the cuffs of high-rise pants! Yes, they are alive and well here in Houston! I haven’t seen high-rise jeans in years and I’m pleased to announce they have never gone away. Being at the Houston airport has brought to light an extremely disturbing phenomenon; the Fat-Pouch Cameltoe Roll. I write this dispatch, seemingly surrounded by the displeasing spectacle. It is a cameltoe that goes beyond the Muffin, squeezing the belly of American Obesity Epidemic Victims, into two parts, a vertical equatorial vagina-line; essentially prolonging normal cameltoe all the way to the waist. It’s really unattractive.
Houston Hobby also has an abundance of American Flag garments, from tee-shirts to hats to the previously discussed, ties. I’ve also seen a lot of teen mothers, few non-white people and many skinny-thighed-but-enormously-bellied-women, which makes me feel kind of jealous, as skinny thighs seem to be a genetically-unattainable goal. I also think about how Anusara yoga would really be great for all the Houston Plumpies.
LATER:
I am now in the Passenger-Only waiting area and Aha! Here’s where all the non-white people are. It’s It’s A Small World in real life here amongst the peeps headed to the Capital Of Planet Earth, NYC. The people-color medley reminds me of why I love NYC; the medley, buzzing together in the beehive of the 5 boroughs, forced to interact with one another on the subway, on the streets, in the high-rises. In LA we are isolated in our cars, our huge boulevards and tract-house developments. LA is a medley of peeps, but Angelinos are rarely forced to interact with people other than their constituency. I go to my agency, interact with other voiceover actors; I go to my yoga studio, interact with yoga people, go to gay bars, interact with my gay men. In my neighborhood, I am somewhat ostracized by my Latino neighbors, glared at for asking them to park better so we can all fit, and disliked for moving their trash bins placed in prime-parking spots every garbage night. Crash is totally a right-on movie. The trick to Enjoyment of LA Living is discovering community. Fucking hippie.
Love The UkuLady
PS; Brittney would friggin love the Houston Airport - she'd be amongst her people!
I write this from the Everybody-Is-Allowed-Area of Houston Hobby Airport, where the native Texans flock to bid farewells. Everything really is Bigger in Texas. The American Obesity Epidemic is in full bloom here at the Houston airport. In one way, it’s refreshing to be amidst absolutely zero junkie-style-meth-freak hipsters; the Silverlake (LA) Mission (SF) Williamsburg (NYC) artsy hipsters (of which, I’m admittedly, probably one), with super skinny jeans and shaggy/wispy haircuts and eighties-style ballerina flats (although I have none of the above). Although the hipsters are lacking, flats, the shoe, are all over the Houston airport, along with the cork-heeled wedgie; however most of the flats here in Houston encircle sausage-like feet, stuffed into the pleather and fleshily bursting below the cuffs of high-rise pants! Yes, they are alive and well here in Houston! I haven’t seen high-rise jeans in years and I’m pleased to announce they have never gone away. Being at the Houston airport has brought to light an extremely disturbing phenomenon; the Fat-Pouch Cameltoe Roll. I write this dispatch, seemingly surrounded by the displeasing spectacle. It is a cameltoe that goes beyond the Muffin, squeezing the belly of American Obesity Epidemic Victims, into two parts, a vertical equatorial vagina-line; essentially prolonging normal cameltoe all the way to the waist. It’s really unattractive.
Houston Hobby also has an abundance of American Flag garments, from tee-shirts to hats to the previously discussed, ties. I’ve also seen a lot of teen mothers, few non-white people and many skinny-thighed-but-enormously-bellied-women, which makes me feel kind of jealous, as skinny thighs seem to be a genetically-unattainable goal. I also think about how Anusara yoga would really be great for all the Houston Plumpies.
LATER:
I am now in the Passenger-Only waiting area and Aha! Here’s where all the non-white people are. It’s It’s A Small World in real life here amongst the peeps headed to the Capital Of Planet Earth, NYC. The people-color medley reminds me of why I love NYC; the medley, buzzing together in the beehive of the 5 boroughs, forced to interact with one another on the subway, on the streets, in the high-rises. In LA we are isolated in our cars, our huge boulevards and tract-house developments. LA is a medley of peeps, but Angelinos are rarely forced to interact with people other than their constituency. I go to my agency, interact with other voiceover actors; I go to my yoga studio, interact with yoga people, go to gay bars, interact with my gay men. In my neighborhood, I am somewhat ostracized by my Latino neighbors, glared at for asking them to park better so we can all fit, and disliked for moving their trash bins placed in prime-parking spots every garbage night. Crash is totally a right-on movie. The trick to Enjoyment of LA Living is discovering community. Fucking hippie.
Love The UkuLady
PS; Brittney would friggin love the Houston Airport - she'd be amongst her people!
Sunday, April 8, 2007
Whore Potatoes & Man-Breasts
Dear Blog!
Tonight I met the ultimate temptress; I call them Whore Potatoes, made with a secret midwestern recipe. I don't know what I mean when I say Whore Potatoes. Are the potatoes the whore or am I? I think it's me who is the whore for the potatoes. Or the potatoes are a fleet of whores, tempting me with their delicious fat-tastic flavor. The Whore Potatoes were also refered to, at the LA Orphan Easter/Pagan Dinner, as Crack Potatoes. Whore Potatoes is a friendlier term, I think. Whores are more socially-acceptabe than crack. Crack is just straightup totally unredeeming, while Whores are kind of sexy, like the Nevada Mustang Ranch whores or the unionized San Francisco whores.
There used to be a streetfood Chicken stand a couple blocks from my house, on historic Route 66. The Chicken Stand was a magnet for whores, who would linger, waiting for potential clients, the drunken chicken-eaters who would (pardon the pun) flock to the Chicken Stand because it was so delicous and open latenight. We always called it Whore Chicken. It was delicious chicken. These potatoes were outrageously delicious. They had cornflakes on top. Whore Potatoes are a once-a-year treat, unless one is interested in a sheath of winter-lard.
Love The UkuLady
PS: My Best Gay Friend is feeling fat these days (he's not) and tonight insisted he was plump and hence, forced to wear a blouse. He emphatically said to me, "I'm so fat, I'm wearing a blouse!". It was kind of true, the blouse, not the fat part. It was a loose-fitting shirt, which I've rarely seen him in. Loose-fitting garments and gay men don't really go hand in hand, unless they are in a show and need to wear something gauzy, billowy or flowy. BGF also insisted that the other day that he felt oddly uncomfortable and realized the uncomfortablity was caused by his breasts making a crease. He is concerned he has an A-cup and needs to wear a sports-bra. This is not the case. He's adorable and not even pleasantly plump or chubby. Man-Blouse and Man-Breast-Crease. Nothing for my BGF to worry about, but he won't listen to me. I'm just the UkuLady, not a hot gay man ready to get down. The word blouse is hilarious when used in the context of a gay man. Same with Breast Crease. Crease is a great word.
Tonight I met the ultimate temptress; I call them Whore Potatoes, made with a secret midwestern recipe. I don't know what I mean when I say Whore Potatoes. Are the potatoes the whore or am I? I think it's me who is the whore for the potatoes. Or the potatoes are a fleet of whores, tempting me with their delicious fat-tastic flavor. The Whore Potatoes were also refered to, at the LA Orphan Easter/Pagan Dinner, as Crack Potatoes. Whore Potatoes is a friendlier term, I think. Whores are more socially-acceptabe than crack. Crack is just straightup totally unredeeming, while Whores are kind of sexy, like the Nevada Mustang Ranch whores or the unionized San Francisco whores.
There used to be a streetfood Chicken stand a couple blocks from my house, on historic Route 66. The Chicken Stand was a magnet for whores, who would linger, waiting for potential clients, the drunken chicken-eaters who would (pardon the pun) flock to the Chicken Stand because it was so delicous and open latenight. We always called it Whore Chicken. It was delicious chicken. These potatoes were outrageously delicious. They had cornflakes on top. Whore Potatoes are a once-a-year treat, unless one is interested in a sheath of winter-lard.
Love The UkuLady
PS: My Best Gay Friend is feeling fat these days (he's not) and tonight insisted he was plump and hence, forced to wear a blouse. He emphatically said to me, "I'm so fat, I'm wearing a blouse!". It was kind of true, the blouse, not the fat part. It was a loose-fitting shirt, which I've rarely seen him in. Loose-fitting garments and gay men don't really go hand in hand, unless they are in a show and need to wear something gauzy, billowy or flowy. BGF also insisted that the other day that he felt oddly uncomfortable and realized the uncomfortablity was caused by his breasts making a crease. He is concerned he has an A-cup and needs to wear a sports-bra. This is not the case. He's adorable and not even pleasantly plump or chubby. Man-Blouse and Man-Breast-Crease. Nothing for my BGF to worry about, but he won't listen to me. I'm just the UkuLady, not a hot gay man ready to get down. The word blouse is hilarious when used in the context of a gay man. Same with Breast Crease. Crease is a great word.
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