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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


2002-03-05 ... 11:24 a.m.

Yesterday I was in the library mood. Oh yes I was. So I went down there, to the library, after work, only to find a big sign on the door that it was closed for Casimir Pulaski Day. Why, oh why, must I be thwarted in every venture? One could argue that I should have known that it was Casimir Pulaski Day. But only if one were an idiot.

I remember when they invented that holiday. (You know, they. The people who invent the holidays.) At the time I was excited because it meant an extra day off from school. I never realized it would come back to bite me in the ass as an adult. This afternoon I shall make another stab (STAB!) at going to the library again.

Early this morning this gross smelly (a combination of general unwashedness and some serious boozing) man on the train was blathering on and on about how he had recently been shot, he had just gotten out of the hospital. According to him he was shot for loving Jesus too much (I didn't get that one, myself), and even with my head buried in my book he kept trying to explain this to me, in particular (why am I such a magnet for the talkative loonies?), and at one point he goes "Miss? MISS? Take a look here, this is where they shot me" and starts to pull up his shirt. And an unpleasant smelly crazy guy undressing on the El is very close to the bottom of the list titled "Things I Want to See Today." So I glanced up and gave him a disapproving schoolmarmish look and shook my head emphatically no, as in "No. Please keep your filthy rags on your body, at least for the moment." To his credit, he gets all apologetic and says, "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I won't say one word more to you." Here's the rest of our dialogue.

ME: "That sounds nice."

BARON VON FOULSTENCH: "Seriously, I'll be quiet, I promise."

ME: "Okay, let's start now with that being quiet stuff."

BVS: "I apologize, miss. I won't say another word."

ME: "Shhh."

Eventually I just kept reading and made the "zip it" motion at my lips whenever he drunkenly tried to apologize again. It would have been amusing were it not for the stench. (That sentence is such a truism, don't you agree?)

Recent dreams: (a) That I was somehow involved in a remake of the Fame movie, called "Fame 2002" or something. (The horror!) (b) That my mom retired, suddenly, just called me up and said, "Well, today was my last day of work...ever!" (c) That I became the first female capo in the New York mafia. It was like a real job interview, I had to persuade the big boss that I was ready for the responsibility, that I had been running several high-stakes card and numbers games for a while now, and that all the soldiers really respected me. Don't you think I'd make a good mob boss? I use a lot of foul language, I'm ambitious and loyal, and I can totally keep a secret. Although there probably isn't any such thing as a mob boss who takes public transportation everywhere. Can't you just see me on the cell phone? ("Mikey, the motherfucking #11 bus broke down again...I'll be there in 15 minutes. No, don't kill him until I get there, asshole! I want to be in on this one!")

Right now, I'd much rather be a mob boss than do my current job. I was gullible enough to take on two extremely large, extremely snarled projects over and above my everyday deadline-oriented stuff. Today I had a meeting about one of them, and in just 20 short minutes things got even larger and more snarled. I kind of feel like crying right now. Either crying, or shaking down a union steward for a late payment. I am stressed. Pity me. Rub my head and buy me drinks.

This disorder's got it all: oversleeping, overeating, depression, and "indiscriminate hypersexuality." Could describe a few people I know.

Because I am obviously very interested in changing attitudes toward self-abuse (at times this page threatens to become the Masturbation Weblog), I will be finding the full text of this article as soon as possible.

---mimi smartypants just canít get enough.

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