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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

2004-02-08 ... 4:17 p.m.

I never read myself because: my god. There is really no need to rehash last week or last month or last year or the LAST FOUR FREAKING YEARS of jittery online self-scrutiny, self-promotion, self-revelation, and plain old self-abuse (in the Victorian, masturbatory sense). Nearly every time I have tried to read old diaries it's been cringeworthy, except when it's funny, like my diary entry from March 30, 1981, when I was all of nine years old and writing in a Paddington Bear diary with a tiny key and everything. With a strange capitalization style, it says: The President was Shot Today.

Then I skipped a line and wrote: WHAT A DAY!!!!!

I am still not clear on the spirit of that comment---is it inappropriate jubilance or just "wow"? Anyway, the point is that I did get nostalgic recently and decided to see if I posted anything interesting roughly one year ago, and it turns out I wrote something rather relevant to my current circumstances, which nicely sums up how I feel about writing online. Hey you know what? Sometimes I get it right. There are days when I wouldn't necessarily not want to know me. Occasionally, under the right circumstances, I have been known to rock a party that at least somewhat rocks the body.


A friend came over to my house recently and said, "Dude, your neighbors still have their Christmas tree up," which is true, and I said, "Well, they're Polish," which is also true, and the friend looked at me strangely because making the ethnic slurs is not normally my style. But wait! It is a complicated and convoluted mental error to explain, but what I meant is that they have a different calendar for Christmas! But then! It gets even stupider! Because Poles have the same Christmas as everyone else, I was getting them confused with Russian Orthodox! So it turned into one of those things where you try to explain yourself and you just keep sounding dumber and dumber, and eventually you say, "Never mind."


Okay. I know there is not much entertainment potential in describing situations and then telling you what I did not say, but, uncharacteristically, I have been positively stellar in not saying things recently. For those of you who are not yet With The Program, I had a few offers recently to be interviewed on the teevee about this website, or more accurately about the book that mysteriously has arisen from the archives of this website. To two of the offers I said "no thank you," or rather I just did not return the e-mails and the time has probably expired on their interest in my non-celebrity. This is the slacker's way of dealing with ambivalence! You just do nothing until the problem goes away! It works with jobs you are too lazy to quit, applications you are too scared to fill out and mail, and boyfriends you are too depressed to dump! Ennui! Tastes okay, not at all filling!

However, the Chicago CBS TV affiliate also offered to interview me, and I said a tentative yes to that one, because I feel a weird allegiance to John Dodge, their news editor. He wrote me back after I berated him online about his old job, part of which included creating the Sun-Times daily weather word, he also has an adopted kid, and he seems like a good egg. The interview was supposed to happen this week. The reporter called me to set it up and asked me what the focus should be, and also asked the strange question, "What could you show us?" The number one answer in my head that thankfully did not come out of my mouth: "How about my tits?"

So I took the entire day off work to do something dumb like get interviewed on television, and I was filled with self-loathing as I did so, because eeew, television, and the flip side of the self-loathing was more self-loathing in response to the previous self-loathing, to the tune of quit being such a stupid snobby git about television, jesus, Mimi, chill. And guess what! The reporter called me the night before to cancel! "We still really, really want to do the story," he said, "but I'm sorry, it will have to be next week. They need me at the auto show."

The auto show. I am being ditched for the auto show. The fact that I did not even want to do this in the first place, and that I talked myself into it and now it is all for naught, pisses me off. When you add in the bit about the auto show, I am getting unreasonably steamed on the phone. I managed to control myself and not say anything I would regret, but I did drop a few pointed comments about how I took a whole day off and rearranged childcare and how next week I'm pretty busy at work. To be fair, the reporter was very contrite and gentlemanly. He said something like, "I'm so sorry about this...stories get rescheduled all the time. You know, unless it's a murder or something." To which I really wanted to exclaim, "So Mimi Smartypants murdering someone would be QUITE THE STORY, NOW WOULDN'T IT! THANKS, THAT'S A GREAT IDEA!"

Or maybe I could conveniently find that severed head just in time for the interview, and pose proudly with it like a bowling trophy.

This entry was all about me, huh? Um, Nora, and LT, and some links, and a guy on the bus with the biggest flakes of dandruff I have ever seen, and drinking beer, and interviewing someone for an editorial position who said that his favorite part of his current job was "the dress code and the free soda" (half a point for being honest but, thanks, we'll call you), and a dream I had that LT and I were arguing about how many raccoon carcasses were in our freezer. I am really phoning it in today.

---mimi smartypants, at least she showered and put on clean pajamas.


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