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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

2002-01-11 ... 12:01 p.m.

Dressed a bit strangely today. My fashion sense is erratic and I tend to think in terms of "costuming" myself (like this for work, like that for going out, like this for miniature golfing, like that for a clambake, etc). It's reminiscent of my LSD-ingesting days, when I used to "dress up to drop" in this certain skirt patterned with implausibly tiny geometric flowers. I think you can understand why. Today's particular moods and whims have dictated striped legwear. I feel like Raggedy Ann. (Such a good word, raggedy. Why not just "ragged"? Similarly, why "moisturize" and not just "moisten"?)

Here's Plato (I've moved forward in time a bit, from Pythagoras) on sleep and dreams:

"Wild desires are awakened in sleep when the rest of the soul, the rational, gentle, and dominant part, slumbers, but the beastly and savage part, replete with food and wine, gambols and, repelling sleep, endeavors to sally forth and satisfy its own such case there is nothing it will not venture to undertake, being released from all sense of shame and all reason. It wallows in erotic desire for anyone: man, woman, god, or brute. It is ready for any foul deed."

OK, Plato.

I go to Subway occasionally for lunch, and purchase what LT calls a "condiment sandwich"---cheese and vegetables only. One of the sandwich-makers is a strange and jovial guy, I'm not sure if he gives everyone shit or just me, but he's always fooling around, and so when I go to give my spiel (no mayonnaise, no tomatoes, no hot peppers, but everything else) he's teasing me like a big brother, "OK, no mustard, right? Extra tomatoes, right?" I'm good-humored about it but after the third or fourth comment of this nature I said, "Look, why are you busting my balls?" and found that it's just about possible to induce a seizure in a Subway employee by making him laugh so hard that he staggers backward from the sandwich counter with iceberg lettuce dripping from his plastic-glove hands. I swear to god, it just slipped out. Too much Sopranos, probably.

Speaking of television, meximick is right, this sucks. TiVo (I succumb to the InterCapping virus) thought I would like it (I have since corrected this misimpression on TiVo's part), so I gave it the old 10-minute try the other night, and no thank you. Normally I love behind the scenes stuff (and am a particular aficionado of factory tours) but all Project Greenlight teaches you is how satisfying it would be to punch Ben Affleck in the mouth, and how Matt Damon's role in life is the same as his roles in movies, ie, to just stand around ineffectually being handsome.

You will love that link for the factory tours. It will fill you with glee. It features the phrase "wood connoisseur" (and it's not what you think). It has this sentence, which is fucking astounding and lovely when taking out of context: "In the viewing corridor you can watch curds develop as they are churned and stirred in long vats." It mentions the Intercourse Pretzel Company (come on baby, let's go make an intercourse pretzel) in Intercourse, Pennsylvania.

If I may continue with the innuendo...I've been playing Scrabble on my PDA, and during yesterday's game I think the Handspring was trying to play a very special sort of Scrabble with me. A single game featured all of the following: abreast, trying, wetly, shaft, and hung. Hmmm.

---mimi smartypants, dope on the floor and magic on the mic.


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