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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

2003-01-09 ... 2:50 p.m.


Green tea + chocolate-covered espresso beans for a morning snack + Music for 18 Musicians alternating with Daydream Nation + a weirdly deep and cloudless sky out the office window + trying to write an article about the treatment of Greek letters in different types of scientific terminology = one very spacey, tranced-out me. The chocolate-covered espresso beans were an unexpected bonus: one of the editors I work with went on a Blommer's excursion and brought back a huge bag of the "rejected" chocolate-covered coffee beans from their outlet store. Blommer's does not seem to have a website anymore; I wonder if they are going under or are just uninterested in selling to the public. It is kind of a hidden bit of Chicago already, but I like working down here, just across the river from them, because if the wind is blowing a certain way all of Grand Avenue smells like chocolate cake mix. Oh yes.

Food thing number two: However, the slight lingering espresso taste in my mouth is making me crave coffee. Not even just pure coffee but junked-up, milky-ass coffee, like a Starbucks product. I used to drink coffee but ever since I spent time in places where the coffee is execrable but the tea is decent and flavorful (the Gulf states, Egypt, India, London until very recently), I have been a dedicated tea person. (Time out for a little packaging rant: I hate the takeout-style cardboard coffee mugs that have the little cardboard sleeve to put around them. Just make the whole damn cup thicker and more insulated instead of resorting to the stopgap sleeve solution. And those lids with the tiny little slot-shaped hole are the worst: how is one supposed to slurp a scalding hot beverage through those?)

Food: But even the coffee craving is not as strange as yesterday's fervent desire for a fish sandwich. The deep-fried, square, tartar-sauce-lettuce-and-tomato on-a-bun kind. I don't eat fish sandwiches, haven't done that since college,* when occasionally I would decide that Classics majors cannot live by toast, applesauce, vodka, and cigarettes alone and resolve to get some deep-fried protein into my system, but damn did I want a fish sandwich yesterday. Unfortunately, I could not think of any place in the area to get a fish sandwich except for McDonald's, and I WILL NOT eat at a McDonald's, ever, under any circumstances (go ahead and start writing your e-mail chastising me for my warped eccentric snobbery, you know you want to), so that particular craving for fried shapes went unsatisfied.

*More food: my college cafeteria was horrible. I know that everyone says that. But really, it was beyond horrible. The director of the cafeteria was seventy-eight years old, had been working at the college for forty years, and refused to retire. The same unpleasant things appeared on the same days of the week, so if you planned to get blotto on a Friday night, you had to hope that spaghetti agreed with you or else go the toast/applesauce route. Mystery items had labels like "Impromptu Casserole" (I am not making that up. I picture a late-night poker party of elderly cafeteria ladies, as they cackle and screech and toss various items into a giant bubbling cauldron. Impromptu Casserole.) The cafeteria had rather strange hours, so after a certain point even toast and applesauce were denied to you, and you would find yourself either scraping together precious laundry quarters to buy a muffin in the coffee shop or else trying to scam a ride to the grocery store on Free Sample Day.


Are a harmonic something that I have been seeking out lately. I have no idea why you would want to follow suit, but if you do, try Debussy, and the Bartok Bagatelles, and even (a revelation that came to me while shopping at Borders) the vocal harmony at the bridge from "Eight Days A Week."


I am not entirely sure what's going on here but I think I like it very much. Green is his color.

Whoops. At my very own airport, just a few short months ago, although I do not remember hearing about it: which could be because we never watch TV news and LT scorns our local papers for the more leak-worthy New York Times.

Ant swarm paintings.

I missed the pork conference!

The metaphors we live by. Also included in the book but not in this review is SCHOOL IS WORK (you earn a grade, you need to learn to manage your time, teachers need to be held accountable, etc). This makes me depressed about the educational system if I cogitate on it too much, so enough.


The other night I experienced some very, very high-quality bomp-chicka-chicka-bomp-bomp, hubba-hubba, lovin' in the oven, horizontal mambo action. Afterwards LT was all passed out and lightly snoring because I had drained all the man-energy right out of him, and I was unfortunately seized with yet another coughing fit (when will my tubercular existence end?) So I got up, threw a robe over my nakedness, and went to suck on cough drops and check my e-mail for the eight hundredth time that day. When I decided to go back to bed I turned off all the lights and was kind of afraid of stubbing my toe or otherwise injuring myself in the total darkness, so I walked in this weird zombie-robotic way and swept my arms out in front of me like a parody of a blind person, and thinking about how that must look made me giggle, and then I saw a glob of streetlamp light on the dining room wall that looked exactly like the frog from Frogger, which made me start humming the Frogger song as I lurched back to bed in my night blindness, and that made me giggle harder. Must have been all those sex endorphins making me silly.

Then I went back to bed and had a dream about doing a radio show, at a college radio station, and it was all updates on my cat. I was getting lots of irate phone calls from listeners ("PLAY SOME FUCKING MUSIC BITCH") but I just ignored them and calmly, in a sleepy soothing NPR voice, continued letting you know about my cat's day.

---mimi smartypants has no time for jibba jabba.


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