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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


2002-06-25 ... 2:52 p.m.

Did you know that every website needs a tagline? Why, I've been doing this little penguin-intensive page for years with no tagline in sight! Where is my head? Any suggestions?

Mimi Smartypants: A Babbling Brook Of Bullshit And Random Pop Culture References Masquerading As Highfalutin' Metacommentary

Mimi Smartypants: The Sharpest Teeth On The Internet

Mimi Smartypants: Get Your Overeducated Neurotic Drunken Freak On

Mimi Smartypants: Oh God It Hurts

Can't stop eating. I am a bottomless pit today. A yawning chasm of hunger and need. I crave bananas and all things bread-related. Maybe I'll invent a diet where you can only eat things that start with a certain letter of the alphabet. B Day would be my favorite (bagels, bread, bananas, blueberries, things made with Bisquick, black beans, Blow Pops, beer). It's no stupider than that junk-science blood type diet.

(When I was trying to type "certain letter of the alphabet" up there I TWICE typed "certain level of the alphabet" by mistake. Mimi Smartypants is ready for the next level. Of the alphabet.)

Secretly I must be a 9-year-old boy because I can't help it, I love Captain Underpants. I read one of these books standing up in Barnes and Noble and I was just helplessly laughing and getting strange looks from little kids. Captain Underpants, heck yeah. I like to pretend I'm all like: oh ho guffaw let's go to the French film festival and read serious fiction and have a latte, but then say the word "underpants" and involve an evil talking toilet from outer space and I am laughing so hard I need to pee.

I could spend all day at this octopus site. So! Much! Octopus! Content!

On my lunchtime jaunt out to get more Food That Starts With The Letter B I ran into these Greenpeace people. I hate being interrupted on my lunchtime jaunts, but I ended up pledging ten bucks a month because the Greenpeace Girl was this extremely cute husky-voiced soccer-playing lesbotronic chick with an arm tattoo of an ice cream cone. I am a SUCKER with a capital SUCK. Ah well, I guess Greenpeace is a good cause and I can certainly swing ten bucks a month. I would like Greenpeace better if they weren't all such hippies, though. Boy do I hate hippies. I have been known to fly into a psychotic smashy-smashy rage at the smell of patchouli or the sight of a hemp necklace or the sound of some obnoxious Phish-style guitar-noodle wankery. (Okay, let's finish this: Or the feel of scratchy poncho fabric or the taste of something from the Moosewood cookbook. Whew.) Even worse then regular hippies are the faux hippies, the thick-necked frat boy jocks who have just discovered marijuana and the Dave Matthews Band and they get themselves some sort of Guatemalan anorak and pretend like they are poor before heading off to business school. Grrr, I am getting all rageful just thinking about it. LT and I were visiting Boston once, and there was this kid in Harvard Square panhandling (wearing expensive shoes, of course, and probably going to go home to a 4-bedroom house in Newton later that night), and as we passed the kid said, "Kick a hippie, fifty cents." It was tempting but LT convinced me that it would be better not to get involved.

The Day’s Best Google Referral: how+to+have+sex+with+a+flight+attendant. Never done it myself, but I would assume that flight attendants' sex organs are in the same place as that of most other humans. "How to have sex with a flight attendant" sounds like yet another set-up for some really bad, often-forwarded, internet funny ha-ha joke.

At a party I went to on Saturday I met a girl who was shorter than me. I really enjoyed talking to someone who is shorter than me because it rarely happens. I decided that I would like to surround myself with people who are shorter than me, so I can feel big and tall. The only rule is that none of these shorter-than-me people can be actual midgets, because I have a confession to make: I am slightly scared of/freaked out by/uncomfortable around The Wee. It is horrible and un-PC of me, I know, and I am probably going to receive tons of hate mail from hypersensitive Little People for saying that, and maybe even be the victim of a Tiny Little Beatdown: a vigilante squad of midgets will be pummeling me to death with their minuscule fists while I scream I'M SORRY!

It may be difficult to find a lot of people who are shorter than me but yet not Wee. My backup plan is just to make you kneel whenever we're together.

---mimi smartypants is exotic like guava.

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