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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

2002-03-07 ... 9:30 a.m.

NO! NEW! TALE TO TELL! (So instead you get the disjointed paragraphs yet again.)

Hands down, the most moronic unsolicited e-mail I have ever received regarding this diary thing came this morning. It was from some Yahoo (oh how appropriate, at least in a Gulliver's Travels sense) address and consisted of one line: "Hi I love your page you sound hott!" So I wrote back: "Then be nice and go get me a glass of lemonade and a box fan." So someone out there, with a weak grasp of punctuation, thinks I sound (?) "hott." With two t's. How unbearably thrilling.

There's a lot of slow-moving, low-lying, filmy, smoke-like clouds out this window. For a while I thought that the Hancock Building was sort of gently on fire, but I have since concluded that it's just weather.

Fibonacci numbers kick much ass. (I can't remember why I looked this up.)

As does Pixar Studios.

The third thing that kicks ass is finding out your pirate name, in an amusing way.

If you know me in "real life," I undoubtedly, probably over beers, have brought up the trivia fact that a loofah is not a sea sponge but a sort of dried gourd. It is one of my favorite facts. You can learn more about gourds (a lot more) from the friendly folks at Kew Gardens. The last time LT and I were at Kew Gardens, I very nearly tripped over and smashed the World's Oldest Potted Plant. I would have felt really bad if I had been the one to kill it.

Helpful hint: if you have paper cuts all over your hands, as well as ragged cuticles from your own unfortunate nervous habits, you should refrain from squeezing lemon wedges on your Pad Thai. Or use a fork or something. Lemon juice in tiny open wounds is fairly painful.

The exciting and incredibly detailed story of Hawaii's state fish!


So I've been reading all these books about Soviet gulags and farm collectivization and famine. Here's Varlam Shalamov, who survived a forced-labor camp, from his Kolyma Tales:

I believed a person could consider himself a human being as long as he felt totally prepared to kill himself, to interfere in his own biography. It was this awareness that provided the will to live. I checked myself---frequently---and felt I had the strength to die, and thus remained alive. Much later I realized that I had simply built myself a harbor, avoided the question, for at the critical moment I would not be the same man as I am now when the question of life or death would be an exercise of the will. I would inevitably weaken, become a traitor, betray myself. Instead of thinking of death, I simply felt that my former decision needed some other answer, that my promises to myself, the oaths of youth, were naive and very artificial.

Well! Wasn't that cheerful!

Because I aspire to keep you, the reader, on a goddamned rollercoaster ride of emotion (fasten your seatbelts, it's going to be a bumpy night), you can recover from the above existential angst by reading these very strange (but somehow very sweet) horoscopes that have been badly translated from the Russian. Mine is pretty good (I can't wait to become "unusually fun-loving" tonight!) as is the one for Taurus.

---mimi smartypants, is she "hott" or not?


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