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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

2003-04-02 ... 3:04 p.m.

Someone I work with did not come in today because she reportedly felt "a little punk." Or at least that is what her message said. Hey, I feel a little punk every day, but I still come in to work! You can just squash that feeling down and get dressed in some non-ripped, non-fishnet tights like the rest of us, missy! Put down that Mission of Burma LP and walk away slowly!

I think I owe the entire world an e-mail. Hotmail was having connectivity issues, plus the following: (a) I have been all kinds of busy, (b) my brain is riding this sort of serotonin rollercoaster ride (as you may have been able to tell from the nothing-nothing-nothing-BIG GIANT ENTRY-nothing-nothing-nothing pattern of this site's updates), (c) the dog ate my homework. Et cetera. Also, THE SPRING PARADOX: Increased restless activity (I want to walk all over the entire city, stopping along the way for ice-cold cans of cheap American beer, I want to go to garage sales, I want to sit on park benches and blow soap bubbles) combined with increased sleepiness (last night I went to go "read in bed" at 9:30 and LT found me an hour later with no book in evidence and just the top of my little head poking out of the covers). I heard him moving around in the house and, because I have a weird ethic when it comes to unauthorized sleeping (as if there is something virtuous in simply being conscious), I shoved on my glasses, hopped out of bed, and tried to nonchalantly fake like I had just been reading all along. However, it was too late, he had already peeked in on my peaceful slumber and thus saw through my ruse. Plus the sheet marks on my face sort of gave the game away. Since I was no longer fooling anyone I went back to sleep, and eventually LT came in and somehow, in the dark, half-awake, we got into this pillow-talk discussion about the logical flaws in Noam Chomsky's politics as well as in his linguistic ideas, and about how one informs the other. This is a pretty weird discussion to have in bed in the first place, and it is even weirder when your bed-partner is sort of sleepily fondling you at the same time, and eventually I had to say something like, "Look, please don't talk about Chomsky while you are all messing around in my Area." Elbow patches on a tweed sportcoat, massacres in East Timor, a disdain for actual anthropological speech data, and an insistence on language as a seamless closed system: these are not the sexiest things on the planet.

Yesterday I went to get my hair cut and the Haircut Girl,* who had many tattoos and looked vaguely like a girl-gang member out of some lowrider/hot rod magazine, was snipping away quietly when she suddenly told me, "I do piercings too." I had no use for that information but I thanked her for it anyway. It made me wonder how many people really come in for a haircut and then suddenly decide to get a stud poked through their tongue. She also had her little girl with her, who was really cute. The kid was eating Chinese food at a small table near the haircutting chairs and she said, "Mommy? Is rice a vegetable?" Haircut Girl said, "It's a grain, sweetie." The daughter must have really enjoyed that word because she started saying "Grrraaaaaaaaiiiin, graaaaaaaiiiin, graaaaaiiiin" over and over again, which instantly brought to (my) mind the image of carb-craving, starch-seeking zombies, staggering around in search of some tasty quinoa or spelt or wheat.

*(What do these people want to be called, anyway? "Stylists"? "Hairdressers"? Or---File Under God Forbid, Shut Yo' Mouth, You Can't Be Serious: "Cosmetologists"? Help.)


Easter mostly means candy to me, a nonreligious nonbeliever. The only things that even come close to "worship" for me are words, information, and rocks. I really believe in rocks. Rocks are rocks, rocks are there on the planet just being rocks. Pebbles, boulders, bedrock, sedimentary, igneous, metamorphic. (You: Mimi, are you all right? Me: Yes I am! And these lead paint chips are awesome! Pass the salsa!) Springtime fertility rites are nothing to sneeze at, though, so I guess Easter to me also means brunch. My mother is a brunch fanatic, and weeks ago she already started getting on my case about making reservations somewhere. I finally got my act together to do so, brunch for six (even though there are only five of us, because my mother and I both have a tendency to invite along strays) at a funky brunchy place in Bucktown, and it is a good thing I heeded her constant e-mail reminders and called because the only reservations I could get at this place are at 10:30 in the morning. That is not so bad---I am always up by 10:30 on Sundays---but I am not usually in any sort of brunch-with-the-folks shape at 10:30, and if I know my mother she will be about an hour early as well. Nobody better plan anything fun for April 19, understand? Friday is fine for kicking out the jams, but Saturday I will have to be all cautious and tending toward sobriety in order to be able to make nice and eat eggs the next morning.


I am salivating over Kappabashi.

Nicely delineated overview of contemporary skepticism, possibly for philosophy nerds only.

I bet you think of a robot as something that moves around. Not always.

Wow wow wow: you can watch Krulik classics like Heavy Metal Parking Lot and Neil Diamond Parking Lot online.

---mimi smartypants is whittling down the sharp edges of the world.


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