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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
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I cannot seem to stick to a topic lately. My brain is like some big hippie group house, with ideas wandering in and out at all hours. Ideas playing frisbee golf, ideas eating some granola-based concoction with their theoretical fingers, ideas arguing about whose turn it is to do the FUCKING DISHES CAN'T ANY OF YOU SLACK-ASS IDEAS CLEAN THIS HOUSE IT IS TOTALLY DISGUSTING IN HERE and all the flannel-clad ideas in my head are adjusting their postulated granny glasses and saying, "Whoa dude, chill out." OBSESSION ROUNDUP 1. The way the duck is looking at me on this page, as well as the idea of all those "capsuled items" in general. 2. This company. They make the pop-up timers that go inside frozen turkeys, as well as this product, which gives an "attractive, compact appearance to the turkey." (Yeah. I hate it when my turkey is open and sprawled out all over the place. Slutty turkey.) 3. More meat! For a vegetarian, I sure think about meat a lot! Do you know about the turducken? It is a chicken inside a duck inside a turkey. I have been thinking about turducken all week, and thinking about stuffing things inside of other things. What if somehow you could stuff a grape inside a tangerine inside a grapefruit inside a watermelon? (The tangrawelonfruit?) Or how about stuffing Cokie Roberts inside Dan Rather inside Bill O'Reilly. And then chucking the whole lot off a bridge. 4. Peanut quota buyout statistics. The Love family is cleaning up! And you have to enjoy the name "Dempsey Boyd." 5. This guy's detailed site about how he is being persecuted by British intelligence. This site is HUGE. Get into his world. 6. This classic Sesame Street sketch is my all-time favorite. THE NEXT TIME I HIRE SOMEONE The next time I hire someone, I want to get one of those fake plastic computers, like in furniture stores. On the first day of employment, I will train the new person in my office on how to use the editing system, and then show her (female pronoun chosen here for ease and simplicity...Mimi Smartypants is an Equal Opportunity Employer) to the new office, all set up with the fake plastic computer. I will say, "Well, here you go...I'll let you get settled in and then you can start editing this manuscript." Then I would see how long it took for the sad new employee to come shuffling into my office, saying, "Um...it appears my computer is not exactly...real?" and I would pretend like I didn't know what she was talking about. I think this would be funny. THREE JOBS THAT DO NOT EXIST, BUT WHICH SHOULD, AND AT WHICH I WOULD EXCEL 1. Studio musician who specializes in making various punk rock sounds, like yelping, screaming, and meowing. 2. Author of pretentious art-school academic art jargon. I know all the good overwrought theory words. I can write your artist statement or do brochure copy for your show. 3. Professional Tucking-In Person. I am pretty good at tucking people in. CHECK OUT THAT SILVERBACK ON THE STAIRMASTER I used to belong to a gym. Yeah. Quit laughing. And I hated it, I hated every damn minute of every infrequent gym visit, and eventually my visits became so infrequent that I just stopped kidding myself and never went back, and let the membership lapse. If my body requires more exercise than yoga and walking around the city and dancing all alone in the house like a dork, well then my body and I are just going to have to have a little chat, because that is not going to happen. Do you hear me, body? I am not kidding around. Anyway, the gym of course sent me tons of mail with offers to renew the membership, all of which I ignored, and then yesterday I received a call at work. This uptalking, unbearably perky woman, whose ponytail and sport bra were somehow conveyed by her very voice, says "Hi? I am calling from Gorilla Sports?" I don't say anything. What is there to say? Was that supposed to be a question? I don't know, ARE you calling from Gorilla Sports? Why don't you walk outside and look at the sign, sweetie? All those step aerobics classes have taught Ponytail Voice one thing though: NEVER QUIT. So she bravely presses on: "We noticed that you didn't renew your membership?" "Yup, that's right!" I say, and because I am in a weird mood I affect a sort of down-home aw-shucks cornpone accent. "I sure didn't! Renew my membership, that is! That is one thing I sho-nuff did not do!" This makes her a little more subdued, and possibly frightened. In a smaller voice she asks, "Can I ask why? Don't you like us anymore?" "Aw sugar, it ain't that," I said. "I just have a few complaints about the gym, that's all!" Now this she can handle. Miss Buns Of Steel has been through a few customer-service training seminars in her time, that is for damn sure. She wants to know what my complaints are, and she will totally for real pass them on to upper management. Isn't that, like, totally tubular? Me again: "For one thing, you people call yourselves Gorilla Sports but I ain't never seen not one gorilla in there! No gorillas on the treadmill, no gorillas in the kickboxing class, and not a single gorilla over on the free weights, and honey, if there is one thing a gorilla loves it is heaving those free weights around. Why, I ain't never seen nothing but human primates in your whole gosh-darned facility, excuse my language! No spider monkeys in the locker room, even! You should totally employ spider monkeys to bring towels to people, that would rule." (By this point I had kind of forgotten to keep using my Southern accent, but oh well.) Quadricep Queen said, "Okay...I will pass that on..." in practically a whisper. I thanked her. End of Act I. Now I have to find some spies who belong to that gym, and find out how they like the towel-bringing spider monkeys. Songs on my playlist today and the foodstuffs that they reminded me of (aka THE MOST USELESS THING EVER TO APPEAR ON THIS PAGE, AND THE REASON WHY I WILL NEVER BE ASKED TO WRITE RECORD REVIEWS): Unspirited by Guided By Voices: This is like a spoonful of sesame seeds. I Can't Feel My Hand Anymore, It's All Right, Sleep Still by M�m: This is like a nice spinach salad. Soon by My Bloody Valentine: This is like chocolate cake batter licked off the beaters. Slowly. With my eyes closed. You walk in the kitchen to use the phone and I am a little embarrassed to be caught. Alsatian Cousin by Morrissey: This is like a potato-and-artichoke frittata. Rag by DAT Politics: This is like those globs of colored sugar on adding-machine paper. Back In Black by AC/DC: This is like the last onion ring in the basket. Teardrop by Massive Attack: This is like French toast. I have another story to tell but it will be saved for later, my fingers hurt and I need a burrito and you probably need a nap. I would be happy to tuck you in, my fee is very reasonable. ---mimi smartypants: machine wash warm, tumble dry low.
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