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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


2002-09-12 ... 5:09 p.m.

When I sat down on the El today, there was a piece of paper on my seat. This is what it said (handwritten):

It's okay I understand, this ain't no never-never land. I hope that when this issue's gone, I'll see you when your clothes are on. We'll take your car, Yes we will, we'll take your car and drive it. We'll take it to a motel room, and take 'em off in private. A part of me has just been ripped, the pages from my mind are stripped. Oh no, I can't deny it, Oh yeah, I guess I gotta buy it!

The rest of the page was torn off, so I assume somebody took the chorus to "Angel in the Centerfold" with them.

I ONLY EXIST IN A SHADOWY NARRATIVE REALM

You probably, after nearly 500 entries, have some idea of who I am. Not that I expect you to have read all those entries, goodness no. In fact I'd be worried about you if you had. Now, as I've discussed before, your idea of me may or may not be accurate. You may think "pretentious little bitch" (Hey. That's not nice. don't hate the player, hate the game), you may think "gosh she sure seems to drink a lot maybe I could invite her to my Thursday night 12-step meeting," or you may think "I'd like to fly a kite in the park with that girl and maybe buy her an ice cream cone." You are almost certainly thinking "for fuck's sake redesign that site already" (to which I say NO! I am an island of stability in the ever-shifting Web!)

All of those are perfectly legitimate things for you to think. I can't stand it when writers of online diaries get all up in your face with I AM A SPECIAL PERSON ABOUT WHOM YOU MUST NEVER FORM ASSUMPTIONS because (1) it's perfectly natural for human beings to form assumptions about each other based on their words and opinions, and (2) there's something (cringe: lame-ass ten-dollar "theory" word coming up) inherently performative about doing a personal page in public space...although I provide a lot of [stupid] links my goal is obviously not solely to provide information and commentary (in a weblog sort of way) but more to construct some sort of shared space between you and I. Damn. I like to pretend that I am a hard-edged 21st-century cybergrrrrl but now that I type out these [gummi-worm-fueled] thoughts I realize that my vision of this Web space is ultimately very cozy, feminine, domestic, sentimental. Ah well.

STUFF

Really funny personal ads.

Really funny quotation: "As a Christian, would it be appropriate for you to participate in a role-playing game with friends where each of you imagines a scenario involving a variety of sexual activities including fornication, adultery, and homosexuality?" Why, that sounds grand! Can non-Christians play too? What fun! (Quotation taken from Jack Chick pamphlet on why you should not play Dungeons and Dragons. Why not? BECAUSE IT LABELS YOU AS AN ÜBERNERD IN THE EYES OF OTHERS! Or because God doesn't want you to. I forget.)

Found poem: wide application is in many colors light tube. bulb. and illuminate the lamp.

A $2000 sterling silver chicken!

I was talking to someone who recently moved to the suburbs after living in Chicago all her life, and she said she just couldn't get over how RUDE everyone was in her suburb: in deli lines, in their cars, or at the park with their children. (I almost said "on the street," but there is no real street culture in most suburbs.) For a minute that took me by surprise, but the more I think about it the more it makes sense. In a crowded city there are all sorts of different people forced to interact on tiny levels all day long. You negotiate space on public transit, you wait your turn at the coffee shop. You probably share walls, floors, and ceilings with near-strangers. The suburbs, in contrast, are all about everyone's own personal little 3-bedroom fiefdom: my house, my yard, my family, my SUV. It's not that city-dwellers are intrinsically nicer or more pleasant, but that we are resigned to the thousands of small interactions are necessitated by proximity.

KINDS OF SLEEP

1. Dental Anxiety Sleep (lots of dreams about my teeth breaking and falling out)

2. Coma Sleep (wake up in basically the same position, don't remember anything, difficulty getting teacup to mouth in the morning)

3. Drunken Sleep (can be worse than no sleep at all. sometimes preceded by Drunken Sex, in which you are transformed from an unassuming regular chick into a foul-mouthed, dirty-talking sex machine.)

4. Twitchy Sleep (an old favorite for me, which I return to often. Dream after dream after dream, lots of mumbling and thrashing about, and a once-an-hour awakening for no real reason.)

5. Nap Sleep (oh swoon. The best. Especially in the fall, when it's cool but you have the windows open and are snuggled down under several blankets. 3:30 to 5 pm on a Sunday afternoon = the perfect nap.)

STRANGE URGES

1. Yesterday and today I have wanted to play [virtual] fighting kicking punching games. I recall quite vividly that down, down, forward, down was a very cool finishing move for some character, but not which one or even in what game. So I guess my days of mad skillz at virtual kicking and punching are over.

2. I walked past a rack of "fall fashion" in Nordstrom's, on my way to acquire a salad for lunch, and was briefly trapped in a Galaga-esque tractor beam by a really spectacular grown-up suit. The jacket alone was something like $300, and since I wear a grown-up suit about three times a year the rational graymatter part of my brain assured me that I did not need a SECOND grown-up suit. But we all know that consumer lust is not about the thing itself, but the fantasy that the thing induces, and this adorable man-tailored-but-tiny-sized collection of gray pinstripe coolness (which came with a skirt AND pants) induced a fantasy of me striding around in the suit and tall leather boots, looking sexy and in control, and I think there was a "raise" and a "daily cocktails expense account" and some "spectacle-wearing boy slaves I could order around" in that fantasy somewhere. But in reality I would just be Mimi Smartypants in a suit.

24 BEERS IN A CASE, 24 HOURS IN A DAY

From the "no shit" department: "researchers found that boring, repetitive, and stressful work can contribute to substance use behaviors." Pass the gin, please.

I've been kind of a homebound girl lately, bustling about the kitchen helping LT chop tomatoes, making an attempt at fiscal responsibility and plotting out a "budget" (of sorts) for the rest of the year, watching old TiVo'd episodes of Bill Nye The Science Guy, and the aforementioned nighttime grocery shopping. It's been nice, and LT has even not been working so much in the evenings so we have been cozy. However, I think I will counteract that with drinking and unwholesome conversation, starting...now. Well, okay, starting in about an hour. Good night.

---mimi smartypants lacks moral fiber.

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