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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

2006-08-01 ... 2:32 p.m.


I received a weird compliment today. Or maybe it wasn't a compliment. This other person and I were bitching about the heat, which is Chicago's favorite activity right now and one of which I frankly will never tire, because it is VERY VERY HOT and I cannot stop whining and complaining. It is hot like when all those old people died and when I dozed through some kind of alien-being-masquerading-as-supermodel movie called Species. It is hot like how I could not even look at the United flight attendant boarding my train with her rolling bag and her PANTYHOSE, I literally turned away as one would from a terrible traffic accident, sick to my stomach at the very sight of PANTYHOSE in this ninety-degree-and-ninety-percent-humidity heat. I even felt kind of mad at the poor hapless flight attendant, which is weird because of course it is not her fault she works in a fashion-retrograde industry, but still my visceral reaction was completely one of YOU JUST GET RIGHT OUT OF HERE WITH THOSE PANTYHOSE. FOR SHAME.

Anyway, I mentioned to fellow-heat-bitcher that I have a personal rule about wearing makeup when the temperature is over 80 degrees Fahrenheit, namely that I do not, because it makes me ill to think about smearing goo on my face in hot weather. She said, "Wow, you have really good skin for not wearing makeup." Then she kind of realized what she said and tried to amend it to, "I mean, you have really good skin" and I said, "That's okay. I mean...thanks." Then we sort of sat there staring into space together.


Nora was in an obnoxious mood, which resulted in my Stern Voice and the reminder that, "I am the grown-up, and I make the rules." And oh lord, although she is only three years old, she then asked me (in a tone more curious than smart-ass), "Who makes the rules for you?" In a strange way it was kind of satisfying to get all up in my kid's face and say, "SOCIETY." After all that I went into the next room for a little while so I could (a) calm down from her obnoxiousness and (b) try not to crack up.

We may live in a nation of laws, and develop our individual codes of conduct based on constant exposure to deeply-held social mores, but it is possible that none of that applies to Nora, aka the Very Small Dark Lord of the Sith.

But ho, what's this? Darth Nora with Hulk hands! Twenty-seven pounds of evil and might! The galaxy is in a heap of trouble now!

I must run, for I STILL have not prepared for tonight's reading, if you can believe that. I am also on deadline for another kind of writing, so that plus the fact that my brain has fucking melted may mean that my entries will get shorter and crazier for the time being. I think you can handle it, though. Right?

---mimi smartypants, the undersigned.


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