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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

2002-08-15 ... 9:04 a.m.

I have a new pen. The Pilot P-700. They come in black, blue, purple, and green, and oh they give me the shivers. The cap clicks on with a hot little click. The word "FINE" is imprinted on the barrel inside a sexy oval. Yes baby you are fine. So very fine. These pens write like the lightest trailing of fingers on collarbone, their ink is as bright as the desire of moths for stars, and I lock my office every night because no one's getting at my P-700s. No way no how. Beeyatch.


I think I've told this story before, but not in this format. It gets me all worked up for some strange reason, and usually while I'm telling it I can see people darting their eyes around looking for the emergency exit, or making "subtle" hand motions to their friend who is waiting in the doorway with a hypodermic full of Thorazine to come on and spike me already, or just forcing the smile/grimace onto their face and waiting for me to be done. Luckily, I won't be able to see you doing any of that. But if you want to send me an e-mail saying "god that was like the most uninteresting anecdote ever, and you really have a weird obsession with this," go ahead. I mean, I'll be sad and everything, but don't let that worry you. (I get better and better at this passive-aggressive online emotional manipulation thing every day. Woo hoo!)


There's a restaurant around here that has a dish I like. It is udon noodles with lots of bok choy and mushrooms and other green leafy things. It is vegetarian and it is nice. On the menu it is called "Shanghai Noodle."

One fine day I place a phone call to this restaurant, for takeout. I order Shanghai Noodle. When I go to pick it up, the guy at the counter says, "We don't have Shanghai Noodle anymore. When you want to order Shanghai Noodle, order Crispy Sesame Chicken without the chicken. It's the same thing."

If it's the same thing, would it have killed them to keep that one extra line of type on the menu advertising Shanghai Noodle? It's not like they got rid of Shanghai Noodle entirely, they just added some chicken. Or, alternately, they could just add an even tinier line of type to the menu under "Crispy Sesame Chicken" that says "without chicken" and the different price.

Okay. Fine. It seems kind of twisted to me, but I WILL PLAY YOUR SILLY GAME. So a few months later I call up and order Crispy Sesame Chicken Without The Chicken. When I go to pick it up, the counter guy is all jovial and teasing me, "What's the matter? Don't like chicken?" That made me angry. "Look," I said. "I am just trying to use YOUR stupid terminology. In an effort to COMMUNICATE. It is not my fault that your menu signs and signifiers are all OBFUSCATED and HOPELESS. You people make me talk in your strange special code just to get some damn lunch."

Maybe it's political. Maybe they had just fired a guy from Shanghai and they wanted no reminders of him on the menu. Who knows. But I resent it, yes I do.


I don't even know why I brought up all that chickenless Shanghai noodle business. Except that I had lunch there yesterday with an Office Gossip. Do you have these people where you work? They make me uncomfortable. And this particular Office Gossip didn't even have anything good to share, just a long list of people she thinks are bitches. Yawn.

You should watch this movie about a lobster and its magnetic properties.

LINGERIE FOR JUSTICE! It's totally work-safe. They are scantily clad but they are not even hot.

I shouldn't have had that second vodka tonic last night. The beer afterwards was fine, that was just like vitamin water to my hops-hungry cells, but the second vodka tonic before the beer was kind of unnecessary. I am actually okay---I have bendy hair and hungry wrists, and a small queer need to search out images of anthropomorphic pencils on the web (this one bothers me. Why would they have a picture of a sharpener in their living room?), but I feel pretty good. In fact, I'm all hopped up on goofballs green tea and ready to rock.

Speaking of rock, here is a shout-out to all you hipsters at rock shows: try to have fun. Seriously, you are standing there with your arms folded looking all bored and cynical like you've seen it all before. You paid $7 just to stand in a smoky room and be crabby? I don't get it. And the only time you become remotely animated is when you are yelling to your friend about how stupid the rest of the crowd is and how ugly their clothes are. God, grow up.

I mean, I hate everybody too, but I'm RIGHT.

---mimi smartypants is lying in the gutter but looking at the stars.


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