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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

2003-05-14 ... 3:21 p.m.


1. From an article on the OED and nachos.

I still had not found a pre-1969 quote. It was 'browsing time' in the LC cookery collection and I limited this search to the class number assigned to Texan cuisine. Several 1965+ quotations surfaced, and eventually I found A Taste of Texas, edited by Jane Trahey in 1949 with a perfect nachos quote on page 27: "Pedro left. Sometime later he returned carrying a large dish of Nachos Especiales. 'These Nachos,' said Pedro, 'will help El Capitan - he will soon forget his troubles for nachos make one romantic.'"

2. These are not nachos.

3. Nachos "Flanders-style" are not nachos either.

4. More Simpsons nacho action:

Lisa: Dad, it's so enlightened of you to take us to a WNBA game.
Homer: Yeah, well, nachos are nachos.

5. I would like to scratch the face of whatever marketing moron came up with the "word" FunFoodZ. Ugh. There is something pleasingly awkward about this sentence, though: "Now well accepted as a snack food, nachos can generate high profits for you wherever you may be."


Last night S. and I held a reprise of dollar beer Tuesday at the Long Room. DOLLAR. BEER. ONE DOLLAR. Both Schlitz and PBR are available at this lovely, lovely price on Tuesdays, and while both are bad beers I suggest you go for the Schlitz. At least Schlitz is made with clean water, whereas in my opinion Pabst is made with detox sweat. I have visited the Pabst brewery (on my honeymoon no less!), and I did not see any junkies bent over perspiration-collection vats while they went through agonizing withdrawal, but maybe they were in the back. Anyway, if you are a thrifty sort, not a beer snob, and are in Chicago on a Tuesday, I have to recommend the Long Room. Except for the gaggle of boys near us who were loudly comparing puke stories. You guys can stay home.

Afterwards, my cabdriver complained about going back up to Devon since he had just been there. Shout-out to Chicago's taximen: the minute you bitch about my destination, the tip starts dwindling. I missed the part where I am supposed to care that you do not feel like going to the airport or downtown or whatever. Last night's guy also tried to tell me that my neighborhood was "dangerous" (not true), and that "they will slash your tires there." He would not elaborate on who "they" were when I asked. I came home, drank some water, and fell into sweet Schlitzy slumber very quickly. Sleep featured a dream where I was standing on a down escalator in Woodfield Mall, out in the suburbs, with a large telepathic dog, and I was explaining to him how much I hate Robert's Rules. "It's a stupid goddamn system," I told the dog. "It's like metric. Maybe it would be nice if everyone used it, but no one really knows how and we just don't, so give up the dream already." The dog told me, in his mind, that he thought I was absolutely right, and did I remember where we parked? (Note: I really do think Robert's Rules are kind of stupid. Every time I attend a meeting where they are half-assedly used, people end up spending a lot of time discussing the rules themselves rather than actually getting to the point. However, I have never shared my viewpoint on this with a telepathic dog.)

For months and months now, LT has been answering certain phone calls (me, friends, telemarketers) with a thick mysterious accent (vaguely Arabic, vaguely Eastern European, vaguely Simpsons klav kalash guy) and the words, "Hello, Monkey Store!" See, Monkey Store Guy runs a monkey store. He sells monkeys. In broken English, he offers, "All kinds monkey. Spider monkey, rhesus monkey. You want monkey? No? Then why you call monkey store?" I have started to play along when I call, either pretending to be a Monkey Store customer with an equally mysterious accent, the owner of a rival Monkey Store ("Listen! My monkeys better, cheaper! We crush you! Crush! You!"), or a representative from the health department. This last exchange was particularly hilarious (to us):

Me: Hello, I'm calling from the Board of Health. Is this the proprietor?
[long pause]


Dude you may be healthy but I suggest you lay off the beard-growth vitamins. My god.

All of Poe.

Interactive video games while peeing. The future is HERE!


If you are chewing up some nice salty pistachios for an afternoon snack, and you have to sneeze, stop yourself. From sneezing. Do whatever it takes. I won't get into what just happened in my office, but it was not my most feminine delicate moment, and I have never been more grateful for my semi-private surroundings.

---mimi smartypants seconds that emotion.


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