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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

2003-02-28 ... 4:50 p.m.


1. I just sent an e-mail to the Director of Building Security asking if I could boil water for tea in my office, now that the national terror alert level has changed from orange to yellow.

2. Since the memo that circulated earlier this week banning us from having electric teakettles mentioned the "immediate confiscation" of such devices if they were discovered in offices, I also printed up a label for my teakettle saying YOU TOUCHA THIS KETTLE I BREAKA YOUR FACE and one for the other side saying MAKE EARL GREY NOT WAR.

3. I pinned a teabag to my jacket lapel as a silent visual protest, and when I get some more time and some sewing materials I think I might fashion an entire teabag dress.

4. So far I have postered some common building areas with the following slogans: TEATHINK IS DOUBLEPLUS GOOD and THEY'LL HAVE TO PRY MY TEAPOT FROM MY COLD, DEAD FINGERS.

5. I desperately need Agoraphone to be installed somewhere so I can tell people more about the tea crackdown.

Alas, I am going it alone, as seems to be the case with all my damn campaigns. COME ON SHOULDN'T I HAVE MINIONS ALREADY? I'm taking minion applications. It is not a difficult job. I am a pretty low-maintenance overlord, and you wouldn't even have to be obsequious or anything. Just monitor my beer consumption (but don't criticize it), keep me from walking into traffic when I am all preoccupied with my thoughts, go along with my schemes.

I seem to be on some sort of kick where I only eat breakfast food. Last night I worked late and LT had an appointment down here so we rode the El home together. It was nice to have an El Buddy on the crowded congested rush-hour train, and I don't mind being squooshed up against LT since I already have all his germs. It was all late and tired when we got home so we had hunter-gatherer night instead of cooking dinner, and I ended up eating a poached egg sandwiched between English muffin halves. Then this morning I decided I wanted to have the exact same thing for breakfast, and it is a good thing I am not a steak-eating overweight middle-aged cigarette-smoking high-blood-pressure male with no family and a stressful job (just to get all the risk factors in there), because I might be keeling over from the Big One right now. Two eggs in a little more than twelve hours! CHICKENS FEAR ME! (Incidentally, LT was up when I ate my breakfast and caught me talking to my egg. ["No, egg! Don't slip off the muffin! Get back in there!"] Why do I tell you these embarrassing things? I must have a masochistic streak.) And then for lunch today the soup I brought was split pea and I decided I didn't want to eat anything that had been split, so I made oatmeal instead, thus turning lunch into Breakfast #3. I boiled the water for the oatmeal in my electric TEAKETTLE. That's right, you heard me. I am headed for the Unrepentant Water Boilers' Reeducation Camp, to be sure.

Hey speaking of breakfast, the Breakfast Crack sounds pretty good.

Catapult watch!

The Double Yolker is the best Flash cartoon I have seen in a while, and had a lot to do with the lifting of my bleak laundrified mood of the past week.

I am sure every person on the damn internet has had something to say about the passing of Mr. Rogers, and I don't have too many original keystrokes to spare on our be-cardiganed grownup friend, except to say that (a) that show was like a virtual Xanax after the frenetic hyperpsychedelicism of Sesame Street, and since I was kind of a jittery and serious child I always appreciated that little break in the day; (b) do you remember how they would sometimes do an entire show in song and how weird was that? and (c) I found the song about how You Can Never Go Down The Drain very comforting and logical.

This is also a good sort of yoga-style song by Fred Rogers (oh man it feels so weird to call him "Fred"), although the ending is a little weird. I don't think most adults have much of a handle on the whole self-control thing, although it is probably important for children to think that they do.


Most of the famous misheard lyrics (such as "excuse me while I kiss this guy") are from classic-rock garbage, so here is my slightly-left-of-center list of lyrics I personally have fucked up. By the way, in most cases I like my garbled lyric better than the original.

They sang: I am the puppet, I am the puppet
I heard: I am repulsive, I am repulsive
(Echo and the Bunnymen, The Puppet)

They sang: Don't break my stride
I heard: Don't break my spine
(Sebadoh, Not A Friend)

They sang: I'm all about/a forked tongue and a dirty house
I heard: I'm all about/a pork chop and a dirty house
(Sleater-Kinney, Youth Decay)

They sang: I wanna be sedated
I heard: I wanna piece of date bread
(Ramones, I Wanna Be Sedated)

Have you noticed my slightly shorter posts? No, obviously not, you are not like some kind of obsessed weirdo. I am all laconic here the past few days. Part of that was the bad mood, part of it was the fact that there is a heap, a small heap, an impossible heap of paper in my office, and I have been working like a crazy woman to get everything done because---da da da dum---I am taking two days off next week. Super-long weekend. Mental health vacation. Yes yes yes. Those two days will help me generate some adventures to liven up this crust of Ennui Pastry I feel coalescing around me. (Mimi Wellington! Mimi Samosa! Mimi Pierogi!)

So yeah. More later.

---mimi smartypants, no questions asked.


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