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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


2007-12-27 ... 12:06 p.m.

DOTTED LINE

LT went and did something crazy on the day after Christmas: he "bought" a car. Our used Saturn was nice and paid for, and we have been running around saying YAY NO MORE CAR PAYMENT. But then the Saturn started to do some funky shit like need repair, and the YAY turned to OH NOES THIS SUCKS. There are all these ads about how you can lease a new car for next to nothing but leases are scary, right? I always thought so. But LT did tons of math and convinced me, so now we have this brand new Toyota for less than our old payment and no money down blah blah, he literally walked in and gave them a few hundred bucks for title/tax/whatever and drove a new car off the lot. I keep thinking there must be some catch but there is really not. We barely drive so we will never even get close to the mileage limit, and in three years when we are nanny-less and keeping more of our paychecks we will just give the car back and then go buy something for real.

I have never had a new car before in my life. It has eighteen miles on it! Eighteen! That makes me laugh.

TRANSIT: BUS

Taking the #56 Milwaukee bus south, as I did recently for a lovely drunken evening at the Beachwood, is a very disorienting experience. I have lived in or near Chicago for most of my life, and I am fairly familiar with Milwaukee Avenue at all of its main points---it is one of those crazy slanty streets that result in a lot of six-way intersections. You know, the ones that send inexperienced (raising hand) drivers into panic mode? Where you pray for the red light to last until you can read all the signs and figure out the geometry? Let's see, if I make a 130 turn I can probably stay on Lincoln...damn it, where did I put that protractor?

But the Milwaukee bus hits all these bizarre streets that I have never heard of before, and that is just SO WEIRD. The buses here talk, so hearing that Very Caucasian CTA Male say things like "Prindiville" and "Caton" really threw me. Prindi-what? Where the hell am I?

Anyway, you don't care.

TRANSIT: TRAIN (WITH BONUS IRRITATING INTERACTION)

This morning I was riding along on the Red Line engrossed in my gulag book. I love gulags! Festive holiday reading! The train was very empty because all the smart people took this post-Christmas week off and it is only idiots like me who make the trek and then end up sitting in an empty office, alternately poking at a stack of work or staring out the window.

A mixed-up sort of man was sitting on the sideways seats and staring at me. He was having trouble deciding between punk stereotype (fauxhawk, biker jacket w/chains + Misfits patch) and Mexican stereotype (huge belt buckle, Western-cut jeans). Eventually he started saying, "Hey. Hey, mama. Hey. Hey." I hoped that this hailing frequency was not directed at me, so I just pretended like I couldn't hear. He hissed and whispered for several more stops. Finally it was just entirely too annoying so I said, "WHAT?"

Annoying Mexican Punk: Hey, mama. Hey. Settle down. Maybe you and me? Maybe we could get together? Huh?
Me: Maybe you could go fuck yourself.

I started reading again (hello gulag prisoners! now where were we? oh yes, starving, miserable, etc) and the AMP seemed to have been shocked into silence. After about another minute he said, "Hey, mama. You got troubles. Your troubles make you mean." Then he paused and said, "I'll pray for you."

I had to put the gulag book over my mouth and nose so he wouldn't see me laughing. My troubles make me mean! My troubles make me not receptive to disgusting pick-up attempts from complete strangers with poor fashion sense! Dear me, I am so very troubled. I also like to imagine what Jesus will do with that prayer. Dear Jesus, white girls is bitches who will not let me love them. O Jesus, King of Kings, please make the bitches appreciate my style. Amen.

---mimi smartypants woke up the neighbors.

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