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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

2002-01-17 ... 10:53 a.m.

Very busy, a touch stressed and manic, deadlines looming (looming, I say) around every corner, but with all this running around I get opportunities to practice one of my favorite stress-relieving activities, and for once it's not the one called Big Huge Glasses of Wine: when things get crazy at work I like to practice my kung-fu kicks in the elevator. When no one else is in there, of course, I'm not (yet) in the habit of going kung-fu on the asses of unsuspecting coworkers. I shared my stress relief technique with a friend of mine, who works in Building Services for the Sears Tower, and he said amusedly, "You know, there most likely are security cameras in that elevator. Most office buildings built after X date have them." Oh well. I guess I don't mind too much if there's a lot of security camera footage of me doing kung-fu kicks in the elevator. Elevator Girls Gone Wild, tonight on Fox.

In the same stress-relief vein (baby, shoot that stress relief right in my vein), my company switched our mental-health provider, and there's a pamphlet about this new place in my mailbox this morning (I hope it was given to everyone, and not just me...). It's written in such amazingly vague language that it took me a while to understand what it was talking about. Weird phrases like "We take pride in assisting you with the processing of life and work issues. Call anytime to speak to one of our Life Management Coordinators." What? Here's my alternative edit of that pamphlet: ARE YOU FREAKING OUT? CALL THIS NUMBER TO LISTEN TO A TOTAL STRANGER'S SOOTHING AND RATIONAL VOICE.

I don't want to hear about another CEO who runs a company into the ground and then gets a multimillion-dollar golden parachute to go away. How do you get this kind of gig? I feel certain that I would be capable of mismanaging a big company. I might even be good at it, and mismanage it in all sorts of creative ways. What would I do with my ill-gotten millions? Well, there's that earth mover idea; I could buy real estate all over the world (a London apartment, a NYC apartment, a Cairo apartment) and spend lots of time drinking tea and writing in various international cafes; I could start a foundation for Creative But Wayward Fuckups and give out grants to insomniac artists and novelists; I could pay Johnny Cash to hang out with me in bars and introduce himself to my friends on command ("Hello. I'm Johnny Cash."); I could install my own elevator in my own mansion and do all the goddamned on-camera kung-fu kicks I wanted; I could start a detective agency with LT that focuses mostly on the Mystery of The Missing Martini Shaker, a la Nick and Nora; and I could take each and every one of you out for a fabulous dinner and drinks. We could run up a huge bar tab and I'd give everyone a sack of quarters for the jukebox. Those a but a few of the things I would do, were I lucky enough to destroy a major corporation. (And get fired, and get the multimillion-dollar golden parachute. To be specific.)

The following is for football geeks only. And I seriously mean that: you can't just be a football fan, you have to be a football geek, in order to enjoy the idea of Kurt Warner's homeworld.

---mimi smartypants: the world's a mess and it's in her kiss.


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