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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

2002-08-12 ... 3:48 p.m.

Stay away from this if you are Martin Amis and you don't like Beckett's prose. But I like Beckett's prose, very much, and Beckett's prose may in fact be just what we need for a Monday. So "nyah" to you, Marty. (I call Martin Amis "Marty," sometimes. He doesn't seem to mind but then later when we're driving around, maybe thinking about going to Denny's, he hits REALLY HARD when doing the "slug bug" thing, and I think that's his hidden anger about the nickname coming out.)

Sabbatical is over and I'm back at work. (It's not my joke but I will steal it anyway: If I lost my job or was suspended due to a serious homicidal freakout, I would say I was on "stabbatical." Whoo! Such mirth!) My office was not the shambles I expected, and it looks like my tasks may actually have been handled in my absence. So while I'm not happy to be here by any means, I am contentedly eating gummi worms (worms are the ONLY gummi! Get out of here with your damn bears!) and drinking tea and catching up on some online reading. Last night I was too miserable* to be interested in the rest of the world, so I am behind on some of my favorite journals/weblogs/news portals.

And speaking of, a large portion of those more politically-inclined weblogs seem to be spending time and bandwidth moaning about how wrong it would be to go to war with Iraq, which really intrigues me. I'm no wrapped-in-the-flag crazy person, and I am not particularly warlike (a touch pugilistic, maybe, with my arm wrestling and my drunken threats of stabbing, but not warlike). However, do these people seriously think Saddam Hussein will shape up because the world asks him to? That he won't continue to develop nuclear and chemical weapons because it's not very nice?

Believe me when I say that I don't make Hitler comparisons lightly, but.

I am definitely not an expert on these things. But sometimes it seems that hardcore pacifists spend a lot of energy denouncing war, and not quite as much energy protesting against policies that lead to war, or against conditions that could make war conceivably justified (eg, hunger, torture, repressive regimes, etc). If you really are a peace activist, please work for it all the time. Nonintervention didn't work out so well during World War II, in case you don't recall.

No more soapbox! Instead I bring you: Operation Tipsy!

(*Do you ever wish that something AWFUL would happen to you, like your house would blow up or you'd get kidnapped by terrorists or your family or spouse or best friend would die in a fiery wreck, just so you would have an excuse to feel miserable and not have it be the fault of your big, crazy, ungrateful brain? Do you know that's a horrible, terrible, insane thing to wish? Yes, it is. We shouldn't even admit it to each other. Never mind, forget I said anything.)

You people have bigger bladders than I do, with your gargantuan coffees. Damn.

I hope he is on the way to my house.


I can think "oh I have a stomachache I shouldn't eat any more gummi worms" while simultaneously eating another one.

The guy standing in front of me on the train today had such an ASTOUNDINGLY LARGE PACKAGE that I am convinced he had a pair of tube socks or a banana or a croquet mallet in his suit pants. It is not my fault that I was looking at his crotch, either, because on the crowded train, with him standing and me sitting, it was pretty much right in my face, and also because, as mentioned before, it was kind of hard to miss. I wanted to say something like PLEASE SIR COULD YOU SHIFT YOUR MASSIVE UNIT TO THE SIDE SO IT DOESN'T PROTRUDE INTO MY AIRSPACE but I did not. Instead I was a good little noncombative, non-package-noticing little girl and tried to ignore the crotchal horror and continue reading my book about the plague. (It's okay, nothing to rave about, but it is about the plague. I'll read anything about the plague.) Two more points and then I will leave this alone: (1) Although I did doubt the veracity of this guy's baloney pony (and you would too if you had seen it because it was seriously ridiculous), I realize that if it WAS real it was surely not his fault, and on a crowded urban train you just have to put up with a certain amount of crotch-viewing, so I'm not mad at you or anything, Mister Massive Member. (2) Not sexy. Not sexy. Not sexy. Interesting in a sort of circus-freak way. That is all.

I was all burrowing through the thesaurus for something work-related (and also, frankly, just because I like the thesaurus) and came upon this list of lamentations, which are kind of cool if you read them all in a row:

alas! alack! O dear! too bad! sorry! woe is me! alas the day! alackaday! waly waly! what a pity!

And this list of celebrations, for when you are happy again:

hurrah! hooray! huzzah! three cheers! hail! heaven be praised! swell! great! oh boy! yippie!

---mimi smartypants wants to get this party started.


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