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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

2002-08-05 ... 9:48 p.m.



Have you ever had one of those days where it seems like everyone is pregnant? Or maybe one of those days where everyone is facially anomalous in some way (burns, skin conditions, etc). Or you keep running into (not literally) really fat people on those little motorized scooters, which to me always begs the question of which came first: the being really fat or the disability that keeps them from walking around? Or is one caused by the other? Maybe in the course of one single day you see three or four women crying on public transportation. Or you overhear multiple different cell phone conversations where the words "enormous" or "lobster" or even "enormous lobster" are used. And you think: Damn, I know this is just a coincidence but what is it about today? Why are all these pregnant/scooter-bound/burn- victim/weeping/large-crustacean-mentioning people converging on me? Is this the science-fiction version of my life?


My goodness.

I don't think I've laughed so hard in weeks.

Here's an emo medical fact for you: tears produced by sadness have a different chemical composition than tears produced by eye irritation.


I can't get comfortable today. My left wrist is all achy and clicky, I have shoulder issues, and although I've been experimenting with several different distinctly unladylike ways of sitting in this task chair I still feel twistified. (So far, kneeling on the chair with both legs tucked under me like a 5-year-old on a movie-theater seat has been the most successful position.)


Two things men on the street have yelled at me recently:

1. [on North Avenue] HEY BABY LET ME SEE YOU SHAKE IT! (Shake what? Shake my nonspecific pronoun?) (Wow, look at the nonspecific pronoun on that babe!)

2. [while I waited for the bus at Clark and Carmen] I LOVE LESBIANS! To which I had to yell back: WHO DOESN'T?


My office building has a talking elevator. The elevator has a smooth, lilting female voice. She says the name of your floor ("tenth floor") and then either "going up" or "going down" (depending), and even changes her inflection: up for up and down for down. She sounds particularly smug when she gets all the way down, saying "Lobby floor!" in this singsongy elegant-lady voice. I have worked in this building for a few years now and have grown used to the talking elevator. I still want to punch her in the face when she says that smug-bitch lobby thing, but mostly I have heard it all, Elevator Lady, and you can't shock me anymore. Which is why I nearly fell over today, when I got in the elevator, pressed ten, and then changed my mind and pressed eleven, thinking I'd drop something off at the graphics department before going to my desk. Elevator Lady immediately acquired a tone. "You are pressing too many buttons. Please press only the buttons required." Well EXECUSE ME. I guess Elevator Lady has had enough of our shenanigans.


I had a rather decadent weekend. Decadent in a low-rent way. Decadent in that I heard someone bellow "last call!" oh, three times in two days. On Sunday I also, due to some fortunate connections, was invited to opening night of this new Second City show, and although it's kind of pricey it comes recommended by me.


Sign seen from the bus window: Enroll Now! Premier Acadamic Preschool.

Hmmm. Maybe not all that acadamic.

---mimi smartypants is more rock, less talk.


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