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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

2002-01-28 ... 9:10 a.m.

I document the details, the mundane rundown for future generations. Today I decided I deserved better tea than what I had at work, and I still have all these Lettuce Entertain You gift cards that colleagues gave me for Christmas and that I've never used, because I never eat at those restaurants. (Now if there were gift cards for Dao or Pacific Cafe or Katsu or Earwax, it would be an entirely different story.) So after ascending from the subway like an urban angel (okay, I admit that I used the stairs and did not literally float up from the bowels of the earth), I headed to Corner Bakery for tea, and it was a very strange experience because all the counter people seemed slightly hostile, with dramatic sighing when I asked for a list of their different teas, and more eye-rolling when I paid with the gift card instead of cash, and then as I crossed the street to get back to the office I was very nearly creamed by a FedEx truck. So this whole Monday seems a bit dreamlike.

[Time out from narrative: Although I think fundamentalist Christians and UFO true believers are just about equally kooky, I liked reading this page out of context, as if it were drug-induced stream-of-consciousness literature, or something you'd find scribbled on the back of an envelope between the pages of a library book. Which is sort of not too far off the mark.]

Friday was the usual drinking and talking after work, and due to a combination of self-manufactured emotional weirdness and too many cigarettes I felt bruised and damaged and flat and empty on Saturday, as if all the words had been sucked right out of me. To try and recover my equilibrium I stayed very quiet and sat in the exact center of my couch listening to Russian composers. (Extraneous note YET AGAIN: Although I normally don't care for these things, I make an exception for Which Dead Russian Composer Are You? I'll skip all the HTML fanfare and just tell you that I am Igor Stravinsky.) Saturday was improved vastly by going over to Kat's in the evening for red wine (LOTS of red wine), French cheese, and conversation.

On Sunday morning things were going well, I was enjoying the Great Big Wonderful Paper and hanging out in my pajamas. And then LT got it in his head that I needed to see Clash of the Titans. It had come up a few weeks ago that I had never seen Clash of the Titans, and apparently this was some kind of formative movie for LT, since he was astonished and chagrined that I had missed it. So unbeknownst (unbeknownst!) to me he had set up a wish list on TiVo for "Clash" and "Titans," and there it was, the late late WGN Movie or whatever. Listen to me, and listen well: This. Is. A. Horrible. Movie. Here's what I went through on the couch with this movie.

DENIAL: Okay, it's cheesy. But cheesy can be good. We can laugh at it, right? This could be fun.

BARGAINING: Repeatedly telling LT that I don't want to watch this movie anymore. Him calmly informing me that that's fine, we can stop it and resume tomorrow. He even pauses it when I go to the bathroom, just to make sure I don't miss any Clash of the Titans golden moments. Eventually I am allowed to fetch my book, but of course Clash of the Titans, with its all-powerful suckiness, filters in and eventually I just give up.

ANGER: What squadron of ass clowns made this film? It's not just cheesy, clunky, wooden, and bad, it literally makes no sense at times. It employs interminable establishing shots (YES WE GET IT. THIS TAKES PLACE IN A SWAMP) and lazy narrative tricks, like soliloquies where a whole bunch of characters are introduced in turn. And that robot owl! An R2D2 rip-off with none of the charm.

DEPRESSION: [This space intentionally left blank.]

ACCEPTANCE: This movie spans a finite length of time. Soon, it will be over and I can go rinse my head in cold water and go take a nap.

Nap I did. Sweet, blessed unconsciousness.

---mimi smartypants puts the sin back in medicine.


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