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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

2006-07-19 ... 12:17 p.m.

As a long-time transit rider, I am not surprised by much anymore. I have been wanked at and preached to, I've seen toenail-clipping and overheard profanity-laced cell-phone breakups and witnessed macaroni-and-cheese-heads fine-tune their alternative living arrangements. It is all pretty much okay with me. Well, the masturbator was not okay, but up until now I have not yet been physically violated on the El.

Don't worry, I have not been assaulted or robbed or anything else that would result in a police report. What I have been is sat upon. It was the weirdest thing---I was reading in the window seat, and this rather large-bottomed woman boarded the train and made these elaborate preparations to sit down next to me. She pivoted so that she was perpendicular to the seat, backed up very very close to me, and slowly started to lower her ass down. I had time to think, "wait a minute, this chick is going to sit on me" and also to think, "I am being paranoid, people don't just deliberately sit on other people" as the ass descended and then boom, it happened. I made some noise, halfway in between "oof" and "what the fuck?" and sort of pushed at her with my forearms, and she very calmly said, "Oh, I'm terribly sorry" and moved over to the empty seat.

And I sat there angry and bewildered and WHY DID THIS PERSON SIT ON ME. Does a fully-clothed, public-place, sitting on people by "accident" fetish exist? Could a spatial-perception disorder or severe nearsightedness really make someone misjudge a distance that badly? Had I briefly turned invisible?

Christ. I think I will start riding the rails with some of those pigeon spikes (best domain name ever!) on my lap, just in case.


At around 3 am Nora starts crying. When I stumble down the hall I find the kid just outside her room, all pipe-cleaner legs and rumpled hair, clad only in underpants* and wailing about how she fell out of bed. She was not injured but just scared, so hugs and sympathy were pretty much all it took, although she did get a bit carried away during the freak-out and cried, "The crib was much better! I never fell out of my crib! Maybe we should put it in here now!" Which is pretty funny, because the crib was sold on Craigslist,** there is no way I would chuck the big-girl bed based on one little incident and my preschooler's crazy, temporary, just-been-traumatized request, and even if I were insane and inclined to honor her whim, does Nora really think I am going to assemble a crib at three in the morning?***

*Pajamas are EVIL, were you aware? Nora actually tried to tell me that they "make [her] skin hurt" and I was all like Look, I don't care if you sleep nearly naked, but don't make up excuses in order to do so because it makes you sound like a freaky conspiracy nut.

**A few pointed comments from my mother ensued when I mentioned this, such as "are you sure you won't need it again?" I am pretty sure. But if we did ever feel flush enough/energetic enough to adopt or birth a second kid, I would probably be flush enough/energetic enough to shop for and buy another crib. (Digression: I would not mind getting email from people who have just one kid [by choice] or who had happy "only" experiences themselves. I have heard all the propaganda from the other side, and I am still never saying never, but it might be cool to compare my pro/con arguments with someone who has been there and done that. Thanks.)

***Not that any argument based on difficulty level would ever dissuade Nora. You know those penny-squashing machines? Nora loves them and once suggested that we build our own, so that we could squish pennies whenever we damn well pleased. When I pointed out that I don't exactly have a tool-and-die shop in the basement for the manufacturing of such a thing, she replied, "But for a project. For a project, we could do it!" Which I think means something like I didn't say it would be easy, but quit your bellyaching and let's get to work!


This. There is nothing cute or charming about your implication that China is nothing more than the surrogate uterus that churns out babies so you can have your happy little family dream. If you think this image is harmless or well-meaning or funny, try thinking again. Is this a more literal variation on the gag-inducing "I feel Chinese on the inside" that I sometimes hear adoptive parents say? (I usually imagine gesturing to their daughter and saying, "Hey, guess what? She's Chinese on both sides.") Or the equally horrible, and anatomically confusing, "born in my heart" nonsense? (So clean! So easy! So birthmother-free!) Arrrgggh I need to stop before I turn into the Hulk or something. I actually had a lot more to say on this topic, but it just got spluttery and stupid (or rather, even more so) and I deleted it.


1. I never finish a banana or an ice cream cone. I always leave that little extra bottom bit in the peel, or pass off the tip of my sugar cone to my dining companion. I have no issues with leaving behind any other foods, just those two.

2. I prefer to watch my Aqua Teen Hungerforce DVDs with the French subtitles turned on. If you really don't want to that's cool but I suggest you just try it once. You may never go back.

3. Although I am a fan of imagination and Nora definitely has an active one, I am also secretly proud of the fact that she has trouble suspending disbelief when it comes to mechanical impossibilities in books. She recently pointed out that there was no way Thing 1 and Thing 2 could fly those kites in the house ("That would not work. You can't run that fast in the house. Kites need wind, Mommy.") and if a premise is too utterly fantastic we can't even get through the story because she just points out the discrepancies until I give up. She is usually fine with people turning into animals or magic beans or other flat-out freakiness, but suspend the laws of physics and you will certainly be hearing from Ms. Nora.

---mimi smartypants is friends with a toilet paper tube, and apple, and a box.


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