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the latest waddle:

good morning, wordpress - 10:36 a.m. , 2009-07-03

elaborate murder attempt - 2:56 p.m. , 2009-07-01

building a tractor in the basement - 10:42 a.m. , 2009-06-19

ask no questions tell just a few lies - 3:17 p.m. , 2009-06-09

my long lasting flavor really lasts long - 1:10 p.m. , 2009-06-04


2003-03-03 ... 12:17 a.m.

Purple pajamas. Tiny mustard stain on sleeve, which bothers me but not enough to actually do something CRAZY and RADICAL like CHANGE MY CLOTHES. Because it's Sunday, and I donít have to be anywhere but instead can stay in my apartment like a feral animal with my Jesus and Mary Chain albums on continuous repeat---a state of being that comes perilously close to a previous time in my life when I was kind of close to crazy and my brain felt like it had turned into a dyed-blue liquid artificial wave like the ones inside one of those 1980s executive toys. However, I am much more cheerful right now, so one shouldn't take the symptoms (mustard stain, need to hear feedbacky guitars and drum machines) for the disease.

THE WEIRDEST THING

Believe it or not. Friday night I went to one of these Tupperware-style parties where it's all cooking gear. I had never before in my life been to a party where you buy stuff, but a coworker pretty much begged me to come and bribed me with booze, so I did, and it really wasnít all that excruciating. Really. I mean, if there hadn't been wine I would have probably died, but the demonstration bit was quick (like a half hour at the most), it wasn't a high-pressure sales sort of thing, and we didn't play any stupid games. So I was proud of myself for having went, since it helped out my coworker out and did not damage me in any way. Afterwards I had another glass of her wine and then met my sister for more drinking at Simon's, and that bar has lost a few points in my book for taking the aforementioned Jesus and Mary Chain off the jukebox, and replacing it with a bunch of albums by soundalike bands like The Collective Nouns (Hives, Strokes, etc). Nonetheless, we stayed until they kicked us out. And I did my best to drink lots of cheap beer.

THINGS THAT I AM NOT REALLY A SNOB ABOUT

1. Beer. I appreciate good beer, but really, it's not all that necessary.

2. Clothing. Make it black, make it sturdy, make it cover me up in all the ways I require.

3. Bars. I actually prefer to be someplace "uncool."

4. Cars. Does it run? There you go.

5. Something else that rhymes with "cars" and "bars." Scars? Guitars? Nope, not snobbish about those either.

THINGS THAT I AM A SNOB ABOUT

1. Wine. Instead of focusing on Iraq, we should bomb the fuck out of the people who invented white zinfandel.

2. Books, particularly fiction. See countless earlier posts.

3. Tea. I guess I will drink the Lipton. If that's all you have.

4. Movies. If something blows up, I probably don't need to see it.

5. Pens. Ballpoint is inferior. Sorry, can't budge on this one.

Saturday was the usual grocery shopping and such. I went a little insane and bought seven bananas, and since LT does not eat bananas I am going to be on my own here. We all know that bananas jump the shark in a very short period of time. First they are too green, then you think, "Huh, I will go wash my hands and then see if this banana is ripe yet," and you come back and the banana is a black gooey mess. Bananas have a five-minute window of perfection, seriously. It's like dating that high-maintenance girl who is all into you with the sofa makeout until you go pee and then IT'S ALL OVER WHEN YOU GET BACK, not that I, uh, have any experience with that.

Then today is all about the purple pajamas, as I already mentioned. Forgive me, I'm drunk. Today I got some disturbing news---a friend of mine went to the ophthalmologist last week, because of some vision problems, and was discovered to have a brain tumor and promptly admitted to neurological ICU to await surgery on Tuesday. This is also someone whose wife basically just had a baby a few months ago, so LT brought several gifts to the hospital: a CD for Mike and a set of chewable teething keys called "Drive N' Drool" for the baby. I have to admit being mostly attracted to the name "Drive N' Drool" while I was at Target, because it reminded me of sort-of-kind-of dating this boy who was in a (crummy) hardcore band when I was seventeen, and how he used to get me really rather painfully stoned whenever I visited his house, and how I would drive home after "dates" at around fifteen miles and hour and while I possibly managed not to Drive N' Drool, it was sometimes an awfully close call. I would like to also add a tidbit to this anecdote consisting of the fact that my parents slept in a waterbed at the time, and I had instructions to wake my mom up when I got home to let her know I was home and safe, and sitting on the edge of a waterbed when you are as high as I often was provokes much "whoa, dude" and giggling, and if she knew something was up she never let on, so thanks mom, for either being clueless or really really cool.

I got off on some tangent ABOUT MYSELF like I always do. Mimi Smartypants: Stupid Self-Absorbed Drunken Ho Bag.

But anyway, I am sure my brain-tumor friend will be fine, and I have researched his neurosurgeon and found the guy has published thirty-one articles. It's all good. Well, not good, but it's all tolerable. What more can we ask for?

And LT made me minestrone tonight, which I love, and before he chopped up the zucchini in it he pretended that he was a 19th-century scrimshaw artist and carved some nautical scenes in the side of the zucchini, which made me laugh. Then we watched this Spongebob episode, which had some distinct homages to Frankenstein and also to certain ontological questions, and I dare all the philosophy majors in the house to drink a bottle of wine and watch this episode. No, really.

ODD LINKS

Symphony for dot matrix printers.

Include the words "dressed as a fish."

Can you identify all the parts of a goat?

I give up. Bedtime.

---mimi smartypants is an antihero for our deranged times.

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