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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

2002-07-19 ... 3:26 p.m.


I really want to get this graphic describing cane blight silkscreened on a t-shirt. Don't ask me why.

Lego Mobius strip.

These people sell holes. More specifically, they sell holes surrounded by metal. I like the page of perforated metal. For my birthday, I think I want a large piece of perforated metal.


Alan Greenspan
Anywhere but the bed
Boys with glasses, girls with glasses, glasses in general
Curvy girls with lips like sugar and hips like sugarbowl handles
Details, minutiae, trivia, self-disclosure
Eye contact
Fast trains
Homemade cookies
Kim Deal's basslines
Loud sounds
Moving my hair off the back of my neck
Mr. Peanut
Secretly letting me win
The letters D and L
Trying to be quiet
Violent weather

Big accomplishment today: I managed not to do anything inappropriate during my brief presentation in this morning's meeting. (It was one of those meetings with the testifying-before-Congress-style microphones, and I kept threatening to draw a face on my hand and have the puppet feed me my lines.) Other than that I have nothing to be proud about. This whole day has been like trying to teach a baboon to knit. Frustrating and a waste of yarn. I got all overcaffeinated in the morning and had grand plans for making headway on my Giant Long-Term Projects, but the phone kept ringing, people kept dropping off pieces of paper in my office, I had to attend the aforementioned stupid meeting, and then the Hancock Building disappeared in the humid city haze and I had to stare at the place where it used to be while somnambulistically eating pretzels for lunch. Pretzels make a fine lunch if you combine them with their polar opposite, grapefruit juice. Sour salty excellence.

Three cheers for the lungfish. It is a quiet creature but it has volatile emotions that it keeps bottled up inside. What does the lungfish dream about when it is curled up in its mucus-lined mudball? It dreams of you. And it dreams of revenge. It thinks the Big Thoughts. It wonders, "What am I? A fish with lungs? A proto-amphibian?" It thinks, "You bitch. You thought you would break me with your whoring around and your dishonesty but no way. I've survived for millennia and I will survive you too. This lungfish will have a new girlfriend within a week, and you'll be crying your slutty little eyes out. And I want my Weezer album back too." (Lungfish mostly listen to poppy "alternative" stuff like Weezer and The Promise Ring. They are a simple fish with simple pleasures.)

Did you know that the Shedd Aquarium has a lungfish that was captured in the wild and brought to Chicago in 1933? HOLY SHIT. I have tried to call the Shedd Aquarium several times this morning to discuss this further; they took my name and number and said they would give it to an aquarist, but I have my doubts. Elderly lungfish! Let's go visit him!

Speaking of senior-citizen animals, the story of Harriet, a really old tortoise, got me all choked up for some reason. She stands up really tall so you can scratch underneath her shell and feel her soft neck, and she puts her head out for something to eat, and she's just got the most beautiful little eyes and she's got little discs where her ears are and the softest skin on her head. Shut up, I'm not crying, it's just allergies.

---mimi smartypants has sunk your battleship.


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