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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


2005-09-29 ... 11:01 a.m.

MY FAVORITE SHAPE

I was very tired this morning and apparently just wandered the house grabbing silver rectangles instead of actually paying attention to my packing. I was over-focused on making sure I remembered my iPod, in its snazzy stainless steel case, and so ended up bringing not only the iPod but also the camera, LT's business-card case, and an old non-working cell phone that now serves as one of Nora’s playthings. Too much junk in my trunk purse! Too many chrome rectangular doohickeys cluttering up my workday life! I am going to go live in a yurt.

Great title. Because the Egyptian fruit bat doesn't want any more shorties, yo.

Weirdly sexy industry. They provide "blown film thickness measurement and control solutions to the plastic/rubber film and sheet industries worldwide." Rrrrrowrrr!

Informative domain name.

Chewbacca!

CONVERSATIONS

LT and I pull up to the new bank branch that just opened near our house, which is all strange and old-skool in that the drive-through has only one ATM but several lanes of pneumatic tube delivery system things. We are in a jubilant mood, as we are going to make a large-ish deposit and then go buy food and liquor. Greetings are exchanged with the teller, and then LT leans out of the car to grab the deposit container. "The Tube!" he cries as he starts to stuff his envelope inside. "The Tube Of Destiny!"

There is a pause, and then the teller clicks back on to say, "Around here, we just call it the tube."

Nora: You smell good.
Me: Thank you.
Nora: What part of your body has the good smell? Wait, let me smell on you. [sniffs my various limbs] Actually, I think it is your face. Your face smells good.
Me: Well, I have lotion on my face. Maybe that's what you smell.
Nora: You have lotion on your face? Is it in your pores?
Me: How the heck do you know about "pores"?
Nora: Can I have a snack now?

[I am flailing around in a creative way]
LT: Is that your dance?
Me: No, it's my exercise video. I'm calling it Spazzing To The Oldies!
LT: CardioSpaz!
Me: Spaz For Total Non-Relaxation, With Rodney Yeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Nora [out of nowhere]: I don't LIKE that guy. That TV guy.
Me: What TV guy?
Nora: The one who hops. Sometimes the TV goes kkkkkkhhhhhhh and then you wait and wait and then he hops. I don't LIKE him.
Me: What?
Nora [frustrated at my stupidity]: THE TV GUY. HE HAS FEET AND HE HOPS.
Me: I'm sorry, I still don't know what you mean.
Nora [goes and gets the remote, points at the TiVo logo]: THAT GUY.
Me: Oh.
Nora [still studying the remote; quietly, to herself]: I don't like that guy.

You know, I always liked Curious George because he was a fuckup. His fuckups were presented as a result of his being "curious," which rang true to me as a kid. I never went on an ether binge,* but I did plenty of odd and dangerous things in the name of experimentation, such as riding my tricycle down the stairs and flushing a sock down the toilet. The original books always featured CG's fuckup, the hilarious consequences, and then the resolution: would that you hadn't been so curious, George, but all's well that ends well.

(*This is from the one where he ate the puzzle piece and had surgery to extract it; was anyone else totally grossed out that they then finished the puzzle? And wouldn't monkey digestive juice have dissolved or at least damaged the puzzle piece in the interim?)

Nora has some of the newer books, the ones where the illustrations are "based on the art of H.A. Rey" (although no actual illustrator is credited, which always makes me fantasize about a cybernetic RoboIllustrator), and in these books CG's fuckups are presented quite differently. In almost every case, the fuckup actually turns out to be a good thing. If CG hadn't wandered away during a camping trip, he never would have seen and been able to put out the forest fire. If CG hadn't let all the puppies out of their cages, the missing one would never have been found. The minor characters in these newer books always end up elaborately thanking CG and his yellow-hatted handler for obliquely saving the day through the magic of simian curiosity. I think this signifies some weird, Hollywood-ized narrative shift, where every thread has to have an overtly feel-good ending, and where child (or monkey) behaviors cannot be undesirable or even morally neutral. I prefer the older ones, where CG's behavior was definitely presented as un-good (though amusing), but the yellow hat guy still loved his monkey no matter what.

Perhaps I am merely opposed to monkey heroism.

---mimi smartypants knows noble accents and lucid, inescapable rhythms.


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