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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

2003-07-28 ... 10:19 a.m.


forced to dress slutty
Tonight on Fox! Kidnapped And Forced To Dress Slutty!

batch Hawaiian porn
Whenever I have some free time, I love to mix up a batch of Hawaiian porn. The ingredients can be found in any well-stocked pantry.

dung beetle disco
Well you can tell by the way I crawl
I'm an insect yeah---real small
Ladies' man, I roll the dung
Stay away, you might get stung
But it's all right, it's OK
I don't have stingers anyway
Rolling a ball, of elephant poop
Number one beetle in my peer group

When you're a bug and you want to cut a rug
You're rollin' the dung, rollin' the dung
Music is a-raving and antennae are a-waving
Rollin' the dung, rollin' the dung.
Ah ah ah ah rollin' the dung

(Apologies to the Bee Gees. Or maybe not. This whole thing was kind of their fault.)


1. Seventy-five percent of John Denver's head was not recovered? This excited me briefly, and I considered going on a John Denver headhunt, but then I decided no, damn it: I want to find a WHOLE head. I am worth it. Sometimes you have to follow your dreams, not settle for less, go for the gold, etc.

2. LT and I went for a bike ride the other night. The original plan was to go for a quite long bike ride, pretend we were all hale and healthy and so forth, but instead we biked down to Hopleaf to have some beer and pommes frites. A couple miles on nice safe side streets, nothing special. Three Hoegaardens later, I was a touch worried about biking back home. However, I discovered that I love to bike in a three-beer condition! It made me want to go fast fast fast! I kept zooming on ahead and then thinking oh wait, this is not a race, why am I knocking myself out here? Speaking of races, seeing part of that Tour de France thing recently, plus all this biking, has led to me and LT making lots of terrible Lance Armstrong jokes. Like the time when LT was falling behind and yelled, "Maybe I should jettison a testicle!"*

Maybe that is what makes Lance Armstrong so fast. No other ball to slow him down. Actually, isn't there a theory that chemotherapy gave Lance a touch of brain damage, and thus he does not feel pain or fatigue as quickly as other people? Not that he isn't a superb athlete in his own right, but I know I read that somewhere.

(What is up with this Lance Armstrong webpage for kids that puts the parenthetical [nuts] after the word "testicles"? That made me laugh.)

*(Okay, we're going to hell.)

3. The theme continues! I woke up on Sunday morning drunk and early after a fitful sleep, and thus really needed to take a nap by the time Sunday afternoon limped along. During that nap I had a bizarrely vivid dream that Bill Murray had lost an arm. I was watching his first televised interview after the amputation, and it was one of those celebrity lovefests where he was being brave and making jokes but being kind of teary and emotional at the same time, and the interviewer was saying how inspirational this was, and why would I dream such a thing? A message to Bill Murray: although I still don't see quite what was so funny about Caddyshack, I enjoyed Rushmore, and I have nothing against you personally. I hope you get to keep both your arms.


As you may know, I am nearsighted to the point of being nearly blind. Occasionally someone will want to do that cute flirty glasses-swapping thing with me, but when that someone tries mine on he or she is immediately strapped into a magic-carpet carnival ride called SEVERE MYOPIA, and gets dizzy and nauseous and is able to see back in time. That is how strong my prescription is. I wear my glasses almost daily now, with occasional days of contact-lens wear, which is the exact opposite of five years ago, when my glasses were much less cute. My contacts are disposable, and so every few months (since I wear them so infrequently), I get to, well, dispose of them. I like to do this in a theatrical manner, by pretending to "accidentally" drop them in the toilet, and then I say, "Oh no! I just dropped my very expensive contact lens in the toilet!" Or else I rip them deliberately with my fingernails and exclaim, "My god! What am I doing! I must have gone mad!" LT is a bit bored with this routine but it never ceases to be funny to me.


Question: What do you get when you cross an aesthete with a phenomenologist?
Answer: An interior daseiner.

Here are some standard phone company recordings you can listen to.

Who says cats can't be useful?

I don't know about you but I have a thin film of Monday all over me. Time to go wash it off.

---mimi smartypants creates a thick rich lather.


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