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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

2002-06-14 ... 2:38 p.m.


What are they listening to?

(a) Italian language tapes.
(b) Aphex Twin.
(c) Megadeth.
(d) Detailed kissing instructions from the photographer.
(e) Kraftwerk.
(f) A sound-effects album.


This is what would be in my Room 101. I am not kidding. If you tried to force me to sit through something like this, my very mitochondria would wither and implode and I would die from the inside out. Me and hillbilly theater do not get along.


Did you know that there are sushi-making robots?

If you Google "bikini wax" and "alcoholic" you get this nice little article about Amy Sedaris. It is a long and twisty story about how I came to be doing that. Let's not talk about it.


1. If you meet your friend for coffee, but you choose a coffee shop that also serves liquor, you will both have an intense internal debate about alcohol vs. caffeine (can't have both...both = stomachache) and guess which one will win? And then your coffee date will last a long, long time, and you will come home at two in the morning, which will slightly puzzle your husband, since you were going out for coffee. Hey, these things happen.

2. It's kind of fun to have not much food in the house. (I've been super-slack about going to the grocery store, for weeks.) It allows me to be creative and resourceful. Yesterday I had some brie and pita bread for lunch: a CLASH OF CULTURES, French and Arabic. I called it "The Algerian Special."

3. Good dream: he asked me to write him a poem about hummus. Bad dream: long vivid nightmare about horrible terrorist attacks (bombs in the subway, dead bodies everywhere). I had to sit up for a while after that one and was even contemplating going out on the porch for a pre-dawn calm-down cigarette, but did not.

4. Eating one of these Mochaccino Mousse Dessert Chocolates is vaguely like a psychedelic experience and made my eyes sort of google around loose in their sockets like Cookie Monster's. It took me close to twenty minutes to eat this one piece of chocolate because I had to take frequent breaks to wiggle around with delight, sip tea, and moan obscenities. Damn it was good.

5. A skilled person can do some random muscle thing up by my elbow that will somehow release the little painful rubber bands in my wrist. I don't understand that one but then again I've never studied anatomy.

6. Dead animals do not make good piņatas because people expect candy, not intestines and maggots, to come out of a piņata.

7. LT, because he received a traffic ticket recently, had to go to traffic school, and in certain situations in Chicago you can "attend" traffic school online. Online traffic school is tedious and boring but at least you can do it in your underwear and drink beer while you take the test. We had fun laughing at all the really bad cheesy graphics on the traffic school website (when they get to the part about car seats for babies, the clip-art baby pictured has no face and its head is not exactly attached to its body. I think it's too late for a car seat at that point). Also, online traffic school is kind of weirdly existential, the way that they kept harping on YOU have to MAKE DECISIONS when you PILOT YOUR VEHICLE and your ACTIONS HAVE CONSEQUENCES and LIFE IS A SERIES OF CHOICES and you ARE ALONE IN AN IRRATIONAL AND HOSTILE UNIVERSE. (Okay, I added that last part.) I think there should be a choice in driving schools, all affiliated with different schools of thought. Epicurean Driving School (lots of honking, funny bumper stickers.) The Ayn Rand Driving School (get the fuck out of my way, peon.) The Xenophanes of Colophon Driving School (the only way to learn how to drive is by trying it! Let's go! Also, a car's god would look like a car.)

8. I need to nap EVERY DAY, from 2 to 3 pm. I am trying to think of a way to incorporate this into my workday without arousing suspicion. Maybe a standing "meeting," with my door closed, curled up on the carpet under my desk?

---mimi smartypants will eventually be hoisted by her own Dadaistic petard.


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