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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

2002-04-10 ... 12:47 p.m.


I was doing a search of my dream-journal for half-remembered themes and came across two different dreams that featured nonexistent brands of cereal: one called JIHAD that was very sugary and bad for you and a healthier bran/raisin combo that used Claude Levi-Strauss as its spokesperson. (Also, a dream with no details except for the image of a flag with a bluebird, a rainbow, and the word ASSHOLE printed in black block letters. Who could pledge allegiance to such a thing?)



Understatement of the day: "Nothing good can come from such an impact."

But I beseech you, Good Sir Underwear!


I woke up this morning to find an ear. A disembodied ear. The Cat was playing too rough with her furry mouse and ripped off its ear. Such a savage beast!


(a) Have you ever had one of those days when suddenly there is just a plethora of good-looking people all around you? You're on the train and you are thinking Oh HELLO sailor and Hey sweet thing I wouldn’t kick you out of bed/off the futon/out of the bar's lockable bathroom and so on. Or rather you're not literally thinking those phrases because you wouldn't touch those clichés with a very long pole (I see no reason to specify the length of the pole) but you are getting all strangely riled up and noticing attractive strangers. Those days are probably just a function of my own serotonin levels and level of awareness and not a sudden convergence of all the Sexy Bastards and Sugar Vixens in one train car.

(b) After I DO have sex, there's this odd feeling of almost-smug self-satisfaction the whole next day: "I have boinked well and truly, and there will be no need to boink again." Well, for a while, anyway.

(c) Jeremy Irons is literally my father's age but I just don't care. Damage is a very strange, small, emotionally brittle movie but it can be used as one of those non-porn pornos, just fast-fowarding to the sexy bits. The movie's inclusion of Juliette Binoche naked doesn't hurt it one bit either.

[right about here, insert fleeting but intense self-referential worry that you think I'm some kind of freaky pervert.]


Actual New York Times headline: More Support For Eating Fatty Fish. (What do we want? FATTY FISH! When do we want it? RELATIVELY SOON!)

I did not have fatty fish for lunch. I walked to Whole Foods for an organic burrito and a bottle of cranberry juice, pausing briefly to admire/puzzle over a weird spiky fruit, a cute baby with a staring problem (babies always stare at me---I must be funny-looking), and a sign that proclaimed PICK UP YOUR PASSPORT TO CHEESE! (Sure! I'll write the Cheese Consulate today!)

I did not have fatty fish last night, either, or indeed any kind of fish. LT and I tried to go to our local sushi place for dinner, not realizing it is closed on Tuesdays. Why are so many restaurants closed on Tuesday? Dreadfully inconvenient. The idea of going home and eating random food did not really appeal, so we walked back up to the strip for a dosa.


---mimi smartypants says: bring it on, cowboy.


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