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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


2002-11-19 ... 9:32 p.m.

Have you ever noticed the arrow in the FedEx logo? It is in the white space between the eee and the ex. Once you see it, you will never be able to stop seeing it. AND THERE ARE FEDEX TRUCKS AND ENVELOPES AND WAYBILLS EVERYWHERE IN MY WORLD.

(God, I just realized that was the classic "didja ever notice" lame-ass night-at-the-improv opener. I am so sorry. Not sorry enough to delete it because Mimi don't delete, beeyatch. But never again, I promise.)

I am shipping something FedEx as we speak and I love checking online and seeing where my little package is. Hello, little package! Are you having a good time in Memphis? Oh, you just left Memphis! The online tracking is way up there with the best inventions ever. Anything that eliminates the need to use the telephone and talk to people ("Did you get my package yet?") is way up there with the best inventions ever.

You seriously have to read this bizarre taxidermy.net thread. Or just read the forums in general. Or maybe make plans to go to the trade show.

I could go for a pelvic thrust right about now.

LAST NIGHT

You may have heard me whine about this already, but I worked 10+ hours and went to a business dinner, and you think after all that the Bears could at least win for me. However, they seem to have forgotten that one needs to stand in front of the person one is supposed to block. And what's with the crap about Bulger not starting for the Rams next week? Hello, he's won FIVE IN A ROW for them while Kurt Warner stands on the sidelines fingering his trademark stubble. And I wish that the St Louis Rams were called the St Louis Yams, and had a sweet potato* logo on the sides of their helmets, and dressed in a sort of orangey-brown uniform. And maybe had marshmallows on top for Thanksgiving. But I digress.

*Don't bother e-mailing me with that tired old "yams and sweet potatoes are not the same thing" rant. It's funnier my way. Maybe.

So I work and work and work my fingers to the bone, or if not to the bone at least to the fascia, and then me and this Huge Cheese in the company, as well as someone who was in town for a meeting, go to this bistro place for dinner. I don't really like French food but there were a lot of asparagus-related items on the menu, and asparagus and I get along fine. At the table next to us are the most fabulous old couple. (This is the second entry in a row where I have enthused about the elderly. What is wrong with me? [This Diaryland site sponsored by the AARP.]) The woman is in a wheelchair and has this severe little bob haircut, dyed bright white, and is wearing a shiny patent-leather trenchcoat that would not be out of place on your friendly neighborhood dungeonmistress. The man is handsome in an elderly way and is using a monocle to read the menu. A MONOCLE! They both had double vodka tonics and the guy kept leaning over to ask about our food, and then at one point he said, "I'm trying to pick you ladies up," and his wife just totally rolled her eyes like she's witnessed this scene before. On their way out he told us that she was 93 and he was 96, and I just about fell over because, well, holy shit.

This version of the Fruit Stripe Gum zebra looks fucking demented. This is like the fruit stripe zebra if he were played by Dennis Hopper in the Fruit Stripe Zebra Story. Also, apropos of nothing, the fruit stripe colors and the colors on 7-11 store signs strike me as similar. But I can't find a good photo of a 7-11 right now, so you will have to go check that one out yourself. I did find a collection of "fun facts" about 7-11 that contains the BLATANT LIE that 7-11 coined the term "brain freeze" to describe an ice cream, or in this case Slurpee, headache. Motherfuckers, we've been saying "brain freeze" on the playground forever. Neither fun nor particularly factual!

I love this fish. And maybe you can help with finding this one. What about the shining tubeshoulder? Or the hula skirt siphonophore? How about getting some hot and sexy ichthyologists to accidentally come to my page, due to my propensity to name-drop fish species?

New theory on breasts.

MY MORNING COMMUTE

1. There was a hobo on the train. All dressed like a hobo and everything with a battered cowboy hat and an US flag in his giant battered hobo backpack. He had a cat with him, in a cat carrier, and he called him Aloysius (who is the patron saint of learning and education). I was somewhat charmed by the way the hobo spoke to and cared for his cat (wouldn't it be difficult to take a cat with you hoboing? Wouldn't a dog be more practical?); however, it was quite a while before I could get the hobo stench out of my nostrils (and this from a whole row away).

2. Then I fell asleep for a little while. The weird half-sleep of travelers, where I was aware of everything going on around me. Such as, for instance, hobo stench.

3. Then I thought that someone I know and don't like (ha! you didn't know Mimi Smartypants has enemies? WELL SHE DOES) was standing right near my seat on the train and I read my book eyes down super-studiously because I didn't want her to see me and I certainly didn't want to talk to her, and then right before my stop I cautiously look at her all peripheral-vision and it's not her after all.

4. Then at Grand Avenue I get off and I am literally too weak to push the turnstile exit grate and I have to put my whole shoulder into it and get help from the guy behind me. Sad sad.

From Everything Is Illuminated:

Brod's life was a slow realization that the world was not for her, and that for whatever reason, she would never be happy and honest at the same time. She felt as if she were brimming, always producing and hoarding more love inside her. But there was no release. Table, ivory elephant charm, rainbow, onion, hairdo, mollusk, Shabbos, violence, cuticle, melodrama, ditch, honey, doily…None of it moved her. She addressed her world honestly, searching for something deserving of the volumes of love she knew she had within her, but to each she would have to say, I don't love you. Bark-brown fence post: I don't love you. Poem too long: I don't love you. Lunch in a bowl: I don't love you. Physics, the idea of you, the laws of you: I don't love you. Nothing felt like anything more than what it actually was. Everything was just a thing, mired completely in its thingness.

----mimi smartypants always resorts to cannibalism too early.

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