We know what you’re thinking. Once again those fun-loving chubby chicks got sucked into an endless feeding loop at a 24-hour all-you-can-eat casino buffet, and forgot all about their blog. It’s not our fault. They just keep bringing out troughs of food for the chowing herd and sometimes we just can’t help ourselves from gorging on bodacious buckets of kibble.

So maybe that’s not exactly what happened. Truth be told one fatty did pour a giant bowl of food for the cat and then hitched a ride on a plane headed for the African safari. Fatty Freef spent a month absorbing all that this distant continent has to offer. And if you haven’t received your postcard yet, it should arrive before summer sets in. For a rundown of the adventure and mayhem, you can read all about her exploits (including insights into the mysterious world of the water rhino) in the partner blog, Terminal Illness. If that wasn’t enough stress the Freef went all adult on us and bought a big ol’ house. Brace yourself. Chaos will most certainly ensue.

Meanwhile, back in the pnw there was a lonely fatty with far too much time on her hands. So after bundling up scraps of felt, bottles of paint, handfuls of bobbles and several wayward clothespins there was manicraft destiny ahead. The results are a collection of stuffed animal plushies made into Christmas tree ornaments and a rebirth of an old classic, the clothespin doll. Rather than the toy soldier uniform, this time they were suited in themed costumes, provided with props and gathered up in gangs to serve as holiday ornament sets. The first set was inspired by Star Wars (the original trilogy) to work as a gift for the jedi in our family who dedicates an entire tree to his collections purchased to support the George Lucas retirement fund. Even a death star tree topper was crafted for those mini trees suited for desktop décor. Next came the Star Trek: The Next Generation set. Then the A-Team (yes, including the van), the Golden Girls, the original Star Trek and then the Star Trek: Deep Space 9. I admit this is clear evidence of full-blown case of dorkage. And if you are similarly afflicted and you’d like to buy a bundle of your own, just ping a fatty near you or jump on the Fatty Factory Etsy page here.

Our apologies for falling off the wagon. We promise to get back in the kitchen and update you on our latest food adventures. Rest assured, we certainly aren’t dieting and haven’t stopped eating, and nobody has managed to tie us down and wire our jaws shut yet. The chow is on and we’ll be reporting on food and festivities during this holiday season. Ho – de – ho – ho.

Another month brings another FattyChow challenge of cupcake bakeries in Seattle. Trophy Cupcakes selection of the month, as promoted on their website, was a Chocolate Stout (with chocolate stout buttercream frosting). However when I bounced in the door two days ago they also had a Boston Cream Pie Cupcake which I simply could not ignore, so this was the one we selected for the throwdown. It was a good imitation of the real deal – a yellow cake filled with a pastry cream center and topped with thick chocolate ganache. To be quite fair I should state that this is already a cake I adore. Really, what isn’t better with a dollup of pastry cream shot in the middle. Unfortunately this one could use some improvement. While it was quite moist (I cringe to think how much oil they put in these things), it could have used stronger flavours, more vanilla, more eggs, more something. But all in all when the cake was enjoyed with all three elements, it was simply delightful.

Then we made a quick run down to Ballard and popped in Cupcake Royale to choose one of their three monthly offerings: Caramel Apple, Pumpkin Maple and Carrot Cake. After a little urging from the cupcake girls working the counter we opted for the Pumpkin Maple. Again they nail the texture, as we’re talking super moist squishy cake interior. It did lack a little flavour, but they do advertise this a, a “lightly spiced pumpkin cake” which sounds more like a defense than a feature. The maple cream cheese frosting was truly the best part of this treat and would be amazing smeared across a slice of banana bread. The three offerings this month were a bit dull on the visual side, with cakes dressed in all khaki shades of tan and beige. Sadly some misguided baker took it upon herself to sprinkle little coloured candy maple leafs on top of this cake for a little jazz. The problem is that adding crunchy hard candy bits to a moist and creamy cupcake was a bad idea and made for a bad ending.

In the end our winner is Trophy’s Boston Cream Pie! And since the month is just about over you best hustle your tushy over to your nearest Trophy shop to cram one of these babies in your mouth before you kill all your taste buds this weekend. You know, because you’ll be crushing those bags of candy sitting at the front door soon. The ones that have been taunting you all week. And sure, you needed all six bags. Not that you got more than 4 trick or treaters last year. Besides they’re little bites. Tiny barely anythings. Probably burn more calories ripping open the wrapper. Sure. Why not.

If you aren’t one of the one million viewers who have seen Fat Rant you might as well just go ahead and watch it now. The ranter, Joy Nash, is an activist, actress and writer, so there’s a bit of self promotion built in to the mini film, but her encouragement on living up fatty lifestyle, no matter what your size, is right up our alley. Joy pokes fun at the fatties who refuse to acknowledge their own size (you know who you are) and explains that not all fat people live on a diet of Cheetos and Ding Dongs. Besides you’ve already wasted countless hours watching squirrels waterski and elephants eat their own poo on YouTube, so what’s another 4 minute video…

And there is a Fat Rant sequel, but it’s not nearly as fun.

Ever wonder why Oprah keeps packing on the pounds? Why it’s Fat Satan, of course. This discovery is when I first fell in hearts for the chubby chicks over at Fatshionista. The writings from these ladies are charming and inspirational, and we always admire a couple of fatty gals with good hearts and righteous minds. Their blog, started way back in 2004, features posts on fat, fashion, social justice and pop culture. Smartie fatties are even better.

Fatshionista gained notoriety with their recent coverage of More to Love, the fat-friendly version of The Bachelor. While the show was nearly painful to watch – from the closeups of greasy food feasts to the showering of tears during every episode as sad fatties recounted heart-wrenching tales of lonely prom nights and being subjected to endless rounds of teasing and taunting. Rather than showing the audience that even big girls can get dates, Fox producers glorified the desperation of all singles and amped up the desperate factor for chubby chicks looking for love. Fortunately the girls at Fatshionista provided an episode summary, offering a hilarious play by play of the dating game which was far more entertaining than enduring the actual TV show. If you missed the series, but were tempted by the rumors and wanted to know just how bad the show was I’d suggest reading back on the posts for Fat Chicks Crying (or just hit the review of the final episode).

These ladies at Fatshionista are obviously far more professional, serious and  respected… but they are like us in that they started with a simple goal: to get “shit to fit.” Perfectly reasonable request, yet remains as difficult as ever to find flattering fatty fashions. We agree that we are all quite finished with the crap they slop on shelves over at Lane Bryant, more appropriately renamed Lame Giant. The have always had ongoing sizing issues – where nothing really fits – ass too huge, pants too short, and honestly they have the most ginormous granny panties I’ve ever seen… seriously they are big enough to tent a family of four. A few years ago a new chub store opened at Northgate targeted to the big girl crowd. It’s official name is Torrid, but we’ve all come to know it better as FattySlutty. Best known for coochie-length skirts that are wider than they are longer, this place lets the skank living inside all of us to come out and play. The bloggers cover these stores and other fashion finds online. They also talk about the much-debated fat acceptance movement which has also hit the pages of major mags and news points. And now, during the time when the country is discussing health care legislation and blame for skyrocketing costs are are being targeted on the sick, the old and the fat. Well, this is a good place to get plugged in and be a part of the chatter.

The Basil Cafe is located on halfway down the island, on Bayview corner, where you’ll find a swinging Saturday Market throughout the summer months. Asian fare is stretch for this tourist-driven island town, but when the young man cooking up the food sat down, (at the end of his shift) smack dab in the middle of the restaurant to eat his own food, I thought it can’t be all that bad. My first trip (days earlier) was so good, I came back for a fix within the week. And I can recommend the variety of vermicelli dishes, as long as you take advantage of the selection of sauces available on the table. On this latest venture, the sun was setting and it was turning late in the evening. So we figured the place was surely about to close and quickly selected the combo appetizer platter, which included spring rolls, egg rolls, pot stickers, chicken skewers and chicken wings. The gyoza and wings were hot, crispy and oh-so-tasty good. But there must have been an abundant crop of mint this season (that stuff spreads like a wild case of herpes at a frat house) because the shrimp spring rolls were insanely stuffed full of the noxious leaves, making the whole thing taste like a mouthful of seafood toothpaste. Ew. Unless you’re on some winning first date and want Colgate breath for some late night necking, I’d steer clear of this bad boy. Other than the miss with the spring roll, the Basil Cafe is a good place to take a breather and munch on pot stickers before you get stuck in the ferry line. And if it’s not raining, sit out on the fountain patio where you can check out the local scenery. If you take the time you might just spot the little bunnies and families of deer that tend to hide behind the trees. And know that the wildlife roams freely around here, so on your way out please try to not to slam your car into the fuzzy residents.

We love cake. It’s genetically coded into the DNA of all fatties. So normally we eat any form of cake that isn’t securely locked away behind glass cases. Cupcakes, pancakes, Hostess Cakes, cheesecakes… I could go on. However I think we’ve hit the wall when it comes to cakes on television. It’s out of control. First there was Duff and his artsy crew over at Charm City Cakes, where viewers were treated to a funky take on sculptured cakery. Then we had countless cake battles during Food Network Challenges – featuring towering cakes, Disney cakes, birthday cakes and even ones that twirled, whirled and blew up. There were a few runs of Sugar Rush, featuring creations from the DC bakery CakeLove. TLC entered the game with Cake Boss, the Sopranos version of bakery TV (minus the sea of strippers, bloody baseball bat beatdowns and foul mouthed guido sidekicks). And there’s the Ultimate Cake Off, yet another ferocious cake battle to the death. Then came a series of wedding services (resulting in hour-long commercials) running over at Chicks Obsessed with Getting Hitched channel, WE. They’re the noted home of reality bridal show, Bridezillas, which you should avoid unless you like watching snotty evil bitches blowing their lids because they don’t like the shade of some pink bow. Truly, I don’t even know how they film this thing. If somebody you know is asked to be on the show you need to un-friend them immediately, or for crying out loud, even if her parents are loaded, don’t marry the beast. They should just call it the “If the Wedding is this Nasty, Just Wait to See What a Terror of a Bitch I’m Gonna During the Divorce” Show. They really need a six month follow-up episode to see how wedded bliss is progressing for these nasty little gargoyles. It’s no surprise that these same insane people whipped up two shows focused entirely on wedding cakes, Wedding Cake Wars & Amazing Wedding Cakes. A six year old could roll out fondant (which, btw, happens to taste like Play-Doh) so I fail to see the fascination with watching adults squeeze it through the Spaghetti Fun Factory. At this point I’d rather watch an entire episode of 30 Minute Meals than endure more TV time devoted to cakes. At least they could move on to different foods… say sushi, corn dogs or butter pecan ice cream. We need to inject some new ideas – let’s see Appetizer Wars, where contestants mix futuristic mini food bites with sci-fi special effects. Or Hide the Bacon, where chefs have to trick vegetarians into eating fare with hidden fatty pork goodness. And truly it’s time for Divorce Dinners, where bitter exes agree on a division of assets while enjoying their last meal as a couple. Brilliant, eh? Obviously I’ve got whole bag of ingenious ideas, so feel free to call me, cable networks, and I’m sure we can strike a fair deal.

In this month’s Cupcake Showdown, we have Cupcake Royale with the Huckleberry cupcake and (almost) Trophy’s Blueberry Pie cupcake. And they’re tied. For last place.

Last place for Trophy: I stopped by to get a Blueberry Pie cupcake from the Wallingford store. Twice. You’ve always been my favorite, but after several failed attempts to get a Pineapple Upside Down cupcake (I was dying to try it!), and two attempts at the Blueberry Pie, I’m over it. I understand the concept of “limited edition,” but you seem to completely disregard the idea of “supply and demand.” Face it. You’re not Star Wars Episode I; you’re not the iPhone; you’re not a Cabbage Patch Kid. I’m not strategically planning my life around a cupcake release. Epic Fail, Trophy. If you can’t show up for the game, it’s an automatic forfeit.

Last place for Cupcake Royale: The cake itself was moist with a hint of huckleberry. Major props for using whole huckleberries, or in the case of my cupcake, a single huckleberry. In your defense, you do call it a Huckleberry cupcake and not a Huckleberries Cupcake, though it incited a small tirade a la Robert Deniro in “Casino,” in the hilarious blueberry muffin scene where Deniro demands the chef put an equal amount of blueberries in every muffin. Overall, though, it was a lovely-looking cupcake.

Cupcake Royale's Huckleberry Cupcake

But your icing was balls nasty, and ruined the whole thing. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much sugar. So much sugar that not only did I go into a diabetic coma within 10 minutes of eating it, but you also totally effed the texture—it was gritty .

A special thanks to the cupcake fairy for hand delivering my Cupcake Royale. But really, I think I’m over cupcakes (except for that Pineapple Upside Down from Trophy—I may make an exception if I can ever find one of those allusive creatures. But for now, you’re in the category of Unicorns and Pixies—you only exist in my childhood dreams).

On sale today! The TruBlood branded beverage is now available for purchase from the folks over at HBO. Although the new bottled soft drink was announced several weeks ago at Comic-Con, they weren’t available for purchase until the buzz finally died down on the net (when will they learn?). The bottles look legit, but rather than containing the simulated blood-substitute manufactured to keep the vamps alive, this is actually just a blood orange carbonated drink. Are you willing to shell out $16 for four bottles of fizzy pop just to satisfy your vampire obsession? Well, maybe. If so, HBO even went so far as to provide a few sample drink recipes for bartenders hoping some blood suckers will show up at their door.

• The Fangbanger – Tru Blood & Vodka
• Death on the Beach – Tru Blood, Peach Schnapps, Pineapple Juice & Vodka
• Plasmapolitan – Tru Blood, Citron, Cointreau & Fresh Lime Juice

Unfortunately there were no food pairing selections, since vampires allegedly don’t eat. But since we’re Fatties, we suggest chasing your bloody cocktails with a few appetizers, something with an Asian flare. Dim sum offerings with deep umami flavours and a hint of heat would work well with a citrus drink. And for the best luck chefs should prepare at least three samplings, choosing from some of my favs like pot stickers, pork buns, Chinese barbecue spareribs, egg rolls, garlic chicken wings, spring rolls and pork and scallion shu mai. And if you serve them in proper dim sum steamer baskets maybe a few Vampire Ninjas* will stop by for a taste.

* No really, click it. There’s a website for Vampire Ninjas (why not Ninja Vampires? Cuz that’s a band. Good grief. I shit you not, I checked it out. They claim to have “hip hop stylings and beautiful melodies.” You best go get your iPod right now). Anyway, the site does include the history of vampire ninjas and how to survive an attack. So, there ya go. We just saved your life.

Sporting a pair of flaming, shiny, hot pink shoes and matching coat (look familiar?), Chef Blythe Beck made her debut on Oxygen last night, during a preview of her new show coming this month, The Naughty Kitchen. What is it, you ponder. Well, I had originally thought it would be some new scandalous reality show with gorging fatties competing in challenges where food meets sex. Ew. Fortunately it’s nowhere near that skeevy! Instead, we were introduced to the executive chef and star of the show, a superstar Fatty in her own right, Ms. Blythe Beck. She’s the executive chef from Central 214, which specializes in soulful comfy cuisine in a boutique hotel in Houston, Texas. And she’s sassy and big assy, so, obviously we’re already huge, HUGE fans. She rules the kitchen with hot pink flare, taking time to insult stupid waiters and even stupider hostesses. And we fell in love when she made totally inappropriate advances towards Calvin, one of those minion waiters, who happens to be also be a steamy hot chocolate daddy. Blythe spared no shame, as she seductively rubbed her giant teta’s on this big chunk of man meat. Clearly, her mouth and attitude are going to get her into a heap of trouble (told ya! now you see the Fatty resemblance, eh?). With it’s nighttime spot on the schedule, I’m hoping that we may even get a censorship-free edition of the mayhem to come. Chef Blythe, who you can find on Facebook and Twitter, promises to introduce us to Sexy New American Cuisine and let us follow her on the quest towards Total World Culinary Domination. I haven’t been this excited about a new show since I heard they were actually going to start throwing Survivor contestants in a volcano. (Wait. Did that ever happen? I hope that wasn’t just a rumor.) Anyway, I say you put this one on your DVR now (for September 22^nd), because we’re predicting Chef Blythe is going to be a superstar and this show is going to be an enormous hit. Besides, who wants nice when you can have a seat in The Naughty Kitchen…

Bravo TV welcomes back its foodie reality show, Top Chef, this time throwing contestants in a Vegas hotel for a sin-city beatdown. This season starts off with some 40 chefs. Well, it might as well be 40. I swear these shows are doubling the crowd every year – there’s no point in learning names for at least three weeks. The talentless hacks that were brought in just for freak factor will be gone in the first month, including a self-taught neck-tattooed cook who served up vegan meat-substitute seitan on the first challenge. Brave, but brainless. Next to fly the nest was the squeaky cartoon-voiced bird whose hideous shrill made my ears bleed. And this week we’re sweating bullets for likely victim, the rainbow-bright-inked-up, lip-pierced fatty who has good ideas, but painfully fails to follow through (probably because she’s too busy sampling the fare).

The producers have already thought up some new ideas for this season’s festive background, gambler’s paradise. The quick-fire round, which starts every show, now features a cash-money casino chip as the prize, in addition to a free pass from elimination that day. Sweet! I only wish they would follow it with a forced spending spree, where the winner has to blow their load within the hour, laying cash out on a table, dropping it at a stripper’s pole, or snortin’ it off the back of their driver’s license. Let’s at least hope they continue to come up with new challenges and tests for our entertainment, because watching people shuck oysters and chop onions is about as exciting as watching paint dry. How about serving up meals to late-night Elvis impersonators working the totally-tanked after-hours crowd? I’m thinking deep fat fried peanut butter banana sammies dipped in chocolate sauce.

Unfortunately Bravo has stuck with the old staff cast, including the host, gravel-breath herself, Padma, Padme, pat me. Whatever it is. Again we’re forced to listen to this waify hag drone on about tasting fine cuisine when we all know she’s chasing the endless heaping plates of food of with handfuls of laxatives in order to maintain her just-above-the-poverty-line figure. And we get to endure another year of with Grumpy Dwarf (who uses stage name Tom Colicchio on TV). The second episode was an awful teaser, when contestants were required to make an appetizer paired with a shot of liquor. Surely after 80 shots of the hard stuff even a raw bastard like Tom Colicchio should be markedly more amusing, right? Meh. Total let down. Drunk or sober, this guy’s manages to be the token party dolt at any event. Maybe the chefs will be required to cook up a spicy batch of meth on this week’s episode. We’ll at least be able to separate the cows from the cowboys! And after firing up some wicked rocks it should make for a lively judge’s table. Just please, dear TV gods, make sure that Tom keeps his pants on.