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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

2002-04-02 ... 11:07 a.m.


You just have to make peace with it. Picture the thong bathed in healing white light. Talk to it (to avoid involuntary hospitalization, this is best done in your mind only). Say: Thong Underwear, I know you mean no harm. In fact, you are trying to make my ass look better in these particular pants, and although no one really should be looking at my ass, in the realpolitik world of strange ass-glances there are sometimes tradeoffs.


The Chicago Sun-Times Weather Words get more and more divorced from reality: today is apparently GROSS. Maybe they know something I don't know. Maybe the forecast calls for a severe entrails storm later on. Maybe Vaseline will drip from the sky or there's a 60% chance that Helmut Kohl will show up in a Speedo. I have dark glasses and biohazard gear with me just in case.


I have never been able to live with someone for more than 10 weeks (one school term). Except for LT, and he is tougher than most. Sometimes there would be spectacular endings to the roommate situation, with recriminations and silent treatments. Sometimes things just fizzled out, or a better living situation would present itself. Sometimes it was my fault, sometimes it was hers. One way or another, I learned very quickly in college that it's better for everyone if I live by myself.

Let me just say by way of disclaimer that I hold no animosity whatsoever toward any one of these former housemates. I mean, what's the consistent factor here? Me. It stands to reason that I am the one who is difficult to live with. Also, any annoying habits these people once had have probably faded with maturity (I think we're all less annoying now than we were eight years ago, wouldn’t you agree?).

1. My first roommate, the one I was randomly thrown together with freshman year of college (the school claimed they carefully matched up personalities but I do not see how that can be true), was a very tall athletic blonde we'll call Diane. Just standing next to her made me feel like a hunchbacked babushka'd barefoot gypsy girl. She was from West Virginia, her father was a prominent judge, she played the harp, she was on the tennis team, she had always attended private girls-only boarding schools. She claimed to be an atheist but had a moral code stricter than any Mormon's, and I continually seemed to be shocking her without half trying. There was nothing wrong with Diane, she was an intelligent person etc, but our neuroses did not mesh well. Eventually all the stress and strain manifested itself in a blowup over something quite minor; I promptly offered to be the one to move out, into a tiny single room. Sweet, blessed solitude.

2. Next, and again for only one term, I attempted to live with a friend (whom I no longer keep in touch with). Outwardly, this seemed to make more sense. We had similar taste in music, we both smoked, we had similar politics and fashion sense. (In college those two things go together more often than they should. Hip hip hooray for identity politics.) However, she turned out to be one of those girls who is perpetually having an emotional crisis/anxiety attack/weeping spell and needs the current man in her life to rescue her from that. IT GETS OLD, PEOPLE. Also, since I am inner-directed to the point of autism, there was a definite clash of personalities and cultures. She soon moved out to be with Rescuing Boy full-time, and I had the place to myself.

3. Then there was a similar very brief attempt to live with another friend. Apparently I continually annoyed her but she never saw fit to tell me so, until one Night of Great Drama, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?-style, where all the passive-aggressiveness came to a head and it was revealed that she had made plans to move out. So again I get the place to myself. Not a problem.

4. This one doesn't quite belong here, because it was a success story, but it was again a very brief roommate situation. One summer when I stayed on campus to fulfill some pseudo-bohemian fantasy of mine (I worked on a small literary magazine, oooh how indie), I lived in a cooperative house and roomed with this girl who was there to work on an anthropology honors project. We actually got along great (and still do), but the whole rest of the house used to joke about how different we were. Laura had a bed, a proper piece of furniture, whereas I slept (or passed out, usually) on a non-fold-out couch covered in an old quilt. Laura was up with the sun nearly every morning, making hearty farm-girl eggy breakfasts in our tiny kitchen. "Want some?" she would ask me, to which I'd always answer "God, no," as I struggled up to a sitting position, pulling on my silk kimono and lighting the first cigarette of the day, leftover eyeliner pooled around my sockets like some low-budget Courtney Love. Laura now has two small sons and is still a smart cookie. I'm a little in awe of her.

From then on, I lived alone, until LT and I moved in together. A few years ago Kat stayed with us for a month, while she looked for a new apartment, and that went surprisingly well; we are both very personal-space-oriented and thus alternated between giggling on the couch with beer and disappearing completely for hours.


It's like The Strokes all over again: I have a tiny misplaced sense of hipster shame for digging Clinic because they are the current critical darlings but I cannot help it, I do. Very much. Forgive me makeoutclub for I have sinned.

A dancing singing muffin is clearly the way to go. I like #12.

APRIL IN CHICAGO = SO MUCH ART IT WILL MAKE YOU DOWNRIGHT DIZZY, IT WILL: IN FACT I HAVE A MILD CASE OF THE VAPORS RIGHT NOW. Check this shit out: Version Festival. If you click on the schedule, you'll see we're getting Animal Charm, Scott Gibbons, Johnny DeKam, and Negativeland films. Yowza.

---mimi smartypants is wearing her bedsheets like a cape up up and away!


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