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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

2002-03-17 ... 5:54 p.m.

There are only four Google returns for "leprechaun porn" and not a single one of them is actually leprechaun porn. I guess I'll have to write my own. I've been riffing on this leprechaun porn theme all day, and amusing myself by speaking in a fake Irish accent about a magical double-headed dildo (or maybe a shillelagh could be pressed into service somehow) and the pot of gold(en showers) one might find at the end of a rainbow.

Speaking of leprechaun porn (oh man you don't know how delighted I am to be able to make that transition), here's a military photo that has a bit of a naughty quality.

An old friend, The Very Astounding Miss P, came to visit this weekend, so it's been one of the most debauched pair of days I've had in a while. She's quite a handful but a very pleasant one. Friday night we closed a bar, getting all snuggly and giggly in a big comfortable booth, and then went home and got even snugglier, and the next thing you know the goddamned birds are chirping and it's actual, full-blown, stage IV, aggressively metastasizing morning. I noticed the sky was suddenly light and I hoped that the rumors of morning were false, and that instead the sky was that pale gray color because of a nuclear attack or volcanic eruption, but unfortunately no. Before I got to be such an old lady I stayed up until dawn on a regular basis, but these days it seems noteworthy. At least it's noteworthy that I (kind of) did it on purpose and not because of my chronic insomnia.

Saturday we recovered by eating various forms of fried potatoes and smoking one-hitters in our pajamas, only to do similar things at a different bar in the evening. It was a birthday party for LT's sister, one of those wristbanded all-you-can-drink deals, and the wristbands were very weird and giant and white so all evening I felt like I was wearing a hospital bracelet. (And here we have Mimi Smartypants, escaped mental patient, enjoying a gin and tonic.) Miss P had invited a friend of hers to meet us there, someone I have only met a few times before and who I don't think would have a very clear image of what I look like, and he said he had walked past our table a few times without seeing Miss P, but then, and I quote: "I saw this girl at the bar getting drinks and wondered if it was you...and then I saw your evil smile and knew it was you." It's kind of a complicated and not-very-interesting anecdote, but I wanted to record it here for posterity and also because it pleases me mightily to be referred to as "evil."


A search referral that miraculously found me: scuba french sex fucking.

The EXTREMELY WACKY tale of Saint Nicholas Owen, whose feast day is coming up next week. I'm open to suggestions as to how to celebrate this.

I'm not entirely sure what you're talking about, but I won't hold that against you. I am also tolerant of out-of-tune country songs and garbled ranting. The patience of an angel, that's me.

---mimi smartypants is your ch ch ch ch ch cherry bomb.


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