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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

2002-04-14 ... 12:18 p.m.

Defiantly unshowered, that's me. My hair smells like cigarettes and fast living, there are still traces of gothoid makeup lingering around my eyelids, and my dancing muscles are pleasantly stretched out and SPRINGY. (Which, incidentally, is today's Sun-Times Weather Word. Four words that end in "y" in five days. Patterns! Are! Emerging!) Maybe I'll take a hot bath later, but right now I'm enjoying lounging about in silk pajamas like a opium-addled harem girl.

I had huge farm-subsidized acres of fun this weekend (picture fun like a vast field of soybeans; and what is fun, if not a vast field of soybeans? You and me, in the vast field of soybeans, flying kites and singing songs). I took Friday off of work, for no real reason except my rapidly deteriorating mental health required that I stay the hell away from the office for a while, or I was going to start playing Russian roulette with the stapler. Living the stereotypical slacker life these past three days has been a charming change of pace. (Although something is seriously remiss when I consider sleeping until 7:30 am to be the very height of luxury.)

Thus: Friday I spent in a stereotypical slacker coffeeshop with [not-so-very-stereotypical] slacker friends doing stereotypical slacker things, like drinking too much tea and smoking too many cigarettes and talking too fast and generally cracking ourselves up. So much caffeine was consumed, in fact, that a trip to a sketchy Polish bar/package store in the middle of the afternoon was medically necessary to smooth out the jitters. And for once it wasn't my idea (although I will admit to being fairly easy to enable. If you want me to have a drink with you, just ask).

Saturday LT stumbled upon a garage sale and bought a hibachi for $1, and we decided that "One-Dollar Hibachi" would be a good name for either a band or a racehorse. He spent the evening cleaning up his prize and now he has decided that all food must be grilled. Which is a bit tricky for a vegetarian, but so far he's done quite well and I'm completely impressed that he didn't burn the house down or get punch-drunk on briquette fumes, as I surely would. (What a strange word, "briquette." What a strange Ukrainian web page about briquettes, with a strange approach to navigation. There's also a cheese [which may or may not be strange, I have no idea], should you prefer cheese to charcoal.)

Saturday night was the venuszine party. I drank keg beer and counted indie-rock girl stomachs and pointy sideburns. I inadvertently started a miniature Fight Club, only with arm wrestling, in the venue's basement. I was surreptiously, delicately fondled about three different times, but the fondling seemed to have a friendly tone about it (don't ask me to explain that one), so that combined with the beer and my expansive mood prevented me from going kung fu on anyone's ass. I danced some, and took grainy dark low-res digital videos of all the scenesters, and helped T. scope for cute girls, and poked tipsily at a tostada at 2 am. You know, the usual.


The Avengers don't get nearly enough credit.

LSD blotter art. Also: Reefer Club! I like the languid pile of Bettys in the upper right corner.

She looks so happy!

Terms for female masturbation.


Is eating toothpaste bad for you? Why is there that poison control warning on the tube? "If you accidentally swallow more than used for brushing." This is a matter of some concern to me.


---mimi smartypants has a tendency to knock milk over.


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