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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

2002-08-03 ... 2:13 p.m.


When I found yesterday that LT had left the bedroom ceiling fan on all day, I actually felt the need to make some comment like "electricity isn't free, you know." What other senior-citizen catchphrases are in my future?

1. You damn kids, get off my lawn!

2. That's not music, that's just a bunch of noise and screaming!

3. Put a sweater on, you'll catch your death.

4. I am not a crackpot!

5. How about a nice egg?


Fantastic article about Sappho. Awfully literary (it's one of those book reviews that's really an essay in disguise), but if you have any interest at all I can't recommend it highly enough. I'm still a Classics nerd at heart, I guess.

War is peace, freedom is slavery, etc.

If these statistics are true (and I use "true" in a very relative sense here), I frankly do not see how Godzilla, defender of Earth, could ever hope to beat Mechagodzilla. But apparently he does. I like the sound clips but there's no way I could sit through the movie. (Japanese monster movies like Godzilla and his analogues are kind of like porn, don't you think? There's a huge amount of boring setup interspersed with money shots of Godzilla stomping on shit. The narrative is basically an excuse for those moments.) I'm a little worried about Godzilla attacks now. I work in a giant office building! Precisely the target Godzilla seems to prefer! I wonder if Security has a written plan of the evacuation procedures in case of Godzilla. They could put it in a large binder labeled GODZILLA EMERGENCY PROCEDURES. (Okay, now I'm just being silly. My company would never spring for custom-printed binders like that.)

Scary shit!

If you're in Chicago next week, go to Empty Bottle on Friday to support the independent film "The Undergrad." Part of it was illicitly filmed in my office building, after hours. The cover charge is ten dollars but it is for a good cause. And there will be puppets.


Is a cupcake just a muffin with frosting? Or does "stuff" make a muffin (eg, you don't usually put berries or nuts in a cupcake?) I've had some cakey muffins, and there is no discernible difference in making muffin batter vs. making cupcake batter, except in the amount of extras that get added.


1. The giraffe died. It's very sad.

2. Wednesday night I was out with my very bestest drinking buddy, and the bar was pretty crowded so he and I were slumped over in that weird, gray, strangely-low-to-the-ground couch by the pool table, and that couch always makes me nervous because no matter how crowded that bar gets it seems like NO ONE EVER SITS THERE (except for us), which makes me wonder if every other patron knows something I don't. [Digression over.] So we're sitting there, at eye level with people's knees, and there's this one girl wearing short pants and one of her legs is kind of weird looking. The skin was all shiny and smooth, and she was holding it in kind of a delicate fashion, all strangely cocked behind her. I kept trying to see her other leg for comparison but it was too dark. My Couch Companion noticed it too, and whispered: "Does that girl have an artificial leg?"

"Maybe," I said. "I was noticing that too. She's standing kind of funny and the ankle is kind of plastic-like."

We tried to talk of other things but kept returning to the question of real leg vs. fake leg. "Crawl over there and poke it," he urged me.

"I am NOT going to get caught poking some stranger's leg. Besides, you couldn't crawl anywhere on this bar floor. You'd get mired in the La Brea tar pit of spilled beer and popcorn bits. Like a mastodon from the distant past."

I suggested going the brazen route of just asking her if she had an artificial leg, but then we worried that if she did, she might think we were some kind of strange amputee fetishists, and if she didn't, she might think we were making fun of her in an obscure fashion. I'm still slightly obsessed with settling the question. Maybe a Missed Connection ad: Wednesday night, Gold Star, 10 pm. You may have had an artificial leg. Call me.

3. And then, yesterday, on my way AGAIN to the Gold Star (shut up. You leave me alone. Fucking twelve-steppers.), I was privy to a very strange conversation on the bus. This old broken-looking guy was saying to his seatmate, "I just get so tired. I'm the walking dead. I want to lay down and not get up. Life ain't nothing but pain." And his seatmate said, "Yo. Jesus has a plan. Jesus is giving you pain to try and get your attention. See this? [rolls up pant leg to reveal, you guessed it, an artificial leg] Took a freight train to get my attention. Yes sir." Then I had to get off the bus and go drink beer, but it was very tempting to stick around and eavesdrop on the no-doubt-very-freaky-Harry-Crews-esque story about Jesus and a horrific limb-severing freight train accident. Damn.

Later (this has nothing to do with artificial limbs), I decided that an hour-long videotape of guys racking their nads (like maybe some skateboard accidents, leaps over fences that fall short, and wild pitches thrown too low), all set to hardcore music and edited all jump-cut-exciting, would be very fun to watch and I might even purchase it. Not that I harbor any special animosity toward testicles or scrotums, but face it, nad-racking is kind of funny to watch.

---mimi smartypants promises to be very gentle with you.


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