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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
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I AM STILL INCAPABLE OF COHERENT NARRATIVE BUT PERHAPS WE SHOULD JUST GET USED TO THAT Summer in Chicago = many many festivals. I think it's almost warm enough for my favorite festival, Fat Guys on Rollerblades, Shirtless and Wearing Spandex Bike Shorts. Date and location: Lakefront. All damn summer. I have washed my hands a whole bunch of times today (just now, in fact), but it still seems to me like my skin is darker than normal. If it truly is the twilight of my wrists and fingers, I can't wait until the stars come out. I am cocktail hour incarnate. Was going through some drawers today looking for the travel alarm clock (I know I'm jumping the gun a bit, but I am excited about the July 4th trip to London) and I found some scraps of paper with thoughts from my last plane trip. Here's my favorite: The plane's engines are making a regular minor-key 2-note interval that sounds a lot like something I might pay $10 to hear at 6ODUM. Wow. I knew the toys of the 1980s were good for something. Speaking of toys. Fisher-Price Little People totally rocked. No one will admit to this online, but a main reason why they didn't have arms and legs is that, if swallowed, they could make their way fairly safely through a child's digestive system. I always enjoyed the fact that, since the entire Little People family were all the same size and shape, the dog could drive the car. In fact, the dog always drove when I played with them. And his ears were so so good to chew on. I went to the dentist yesterday, for a cleaning, and the news is fine and my teeth are clean. I have been tooth-unhappy lately. Either I am imagining things or I am developing a bit of a gap between my front teeth (not Madonna-sized or anything, but it's there), and my crooked bottom tooth looks even more crooked to me lately. Why would my teeth be moving around now, in my grown-up head? My dentist is quite far away so I had a meandering CTA journey all over the city, with lots of time for reading, and for enjoying the strange handpainted signs on businesses all over the South Side. There was one on 47th of a talking ear of corn with a word balloon coming out of his mouth that said SIM'S LIQUORS. No mention of corn. The dentist gave me my dental-themed prize bag, with a new toothbrush and things, and the design on the front of the bag has changed. No longer is the happy tooth accompanied by his friends, the happy brush and the happy box of floss. The happy tooth is now a solo act. Disturbingly, the happy tooth is now the sole image on the bag, and he is still happy, but now he is BRUSHING HIMSELF, getting all foamy with the toothbrush in his right "hand" (another disturbing bit of the image, but we won't go there right now). IS THIS THE TOOTHBRUSH FROM THE LAST BAG, NOW ENSLAVED BY THE EGOMANIAC HAPPY TOOTH? The brush is sort of turned over so I can't see if it has a face or not. I sense a sordid story behind this design change. Maybe the tooth is like Jello Biafra, and the brush is like East Bay Ray, and the floss is like D. H. Peligro, and the not-pictured toothpaste is like Klaus Fluoride (oh ho ha ha), and their whole association ended badly, and the other three dental implements will be appearing on their own bag soon, with a different tooth. A little fantasy of mine: I am onstage with a loud fast punk band and before every song I scream out THIS ONE'S FOR RICK MOODY! ONETWOTHREEFOUR! And then maybe it would get back to Rick Moody that this very weird thing is happening in smelly little punk clubs all over the nation, and he would write me a "what the fuck" letter. I would love that. I very rarely have celebrity-related thoughts or fantasies, although I did dream recently that Bono was breastfeeding a baby and droning on in his Irish Voice of Great Sincerity about how wonderful it was that science had allowed him to experience the miracle of feeding an infant with his own body and how amazing it must be to give birth and blah blah. It was at a party and Bono was wearing all black (even a black nursing bra) and I remember wishing he would shut the hell up.
LT and I went out to dinner recently and were cracking up over the descriptions on the wine list. One of the wines promised an "endless velvety finish." Oh my. Ahem. I'm sorry, you were saying something? I was too busy fantasizing about my endless velvety finish. ---mimi smartypants is languidly reclining on the chaise lounge. back/forward |
