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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

2003-08-08 ... 2:35 p.m.

"I just hope I won't be taken for one of those trendy constructivists who makes out with other constructivistsjust to give the expressionists a hard-on." Extremely interesting post, although a big chunk of my brain convulses and tries to fold over on itself like a poked slug when I consider the implications of "politicizing [my] position as poet."

So useful!

Game show ads.


These advertisements are hard to describe, so I hope either that you have seen them or that my powers of description are up to the task. Which would be a minor miracle, considering my headache, the oppressive wet blanket of gray fog and humidity that is draped over Chicago, and the cranky fits that keep seizing me at odd intervals. I donít want to speak, and work today seems hell-bent on making me speak. "Can we have a meeting?" Do we have to? Can't we just sit in our square beige offices with the doors closed and play quietly?

The first ad I dislike is for The Princeton Review, which is some course you buy to get a better score on standardized tests. The ad I am talking about is at an El stop, and it features a blond crewcutted jerk in a classic ensemble for blond crewcutted jerks everywhere---the Banana Republic trousers, the tasteful V-neck sweater tucked in, the just-fashionable-enough wide leather belt. You know the type. Your mom would point him out and call him a "nice-looking boy," and you'd be all like "yeah, if you like Golden-Tee-addicted, Budweiser-guzzling date rapists with seriously skewed ideas about money and success, and whose notion of 'treating you right' goes no further than roses, bubble baths, and teddy bears." And then your mom would just sigh because why do you always have to be such a smart-ass?

This guy is facing the camera, and he has his legs akimbo* and his arms outstretched, and is giving a big double-thumbs-up. His mouth is wide open like he is yelling "YES!" in typical sports-bar fashion and I believe he is what these type of guys call "pumped." This ad makes me nearly insane with rage every time I see it, and it is probably something I would explore with my therapist, if I had a therapist.

*(Do you know how long I have wanted to use the word "akimbo" on this web page? Me neither, because I never knew that I wanted to until just now! It feels so right! Go Mimi! It's your birthday! Akimbo!)

The other advertisement I most heartily dislike is a print ad for a high-rise condominium building in the South Loop, and it features a lovely white heterosexual couple in a living room all done up in tasteful yuppie minimalism. The female is on the couch giggling into her hand because it is all just too much! Oh the WASP-y mirth! The male is standing at the floor-to-ceiling window of their palace in the city sky, and he has opened the towel that he had around his waist in order to flash his Big Cock Of Homeownership at all of downtown Chicago. The tagline is the worst part: "You are soooo not the white picket fence type." MY WE ARE AWFULLY PLEASED WITH OURSELVES AREN'T WE. You naked rebel! Nothing straitlaced about you, no sir! And whatever copywriter decided to use "soooo" should be taken out and shot, or at the very least punched in the face, and if I had any say in the matter I would send the Punch In The Face Squad to do just that.

Okay, I need to relax. I already complained about my crabbiness, but it looks like that was not necessary because you could have just kept reading.


1. For some reason city workers have decided to dig a huge, deep hole in the middle of my street, which re-routes my bus a bit, so in the mornings I need to walk to a different corner. The corner in question may be a contender for the filthiest in the city. Today I was waiting for the bus and an old man in an oversized powder-blue tuxedo jacket and a baseball cap shuffled up, leaned way over to get a good look at the many things befouling the pavement, and exclaimed, with a heavy Polish accent and real joy in his voice, "This looks like throw-up!"

2. There was a guy completely freaking out in the Jewel grocery store at Ohio and State, where I go to get fresh fruit when I am feeling toxic and crabby. (Like today.) I missed whatever his problem was, but he was screaming and yelling and basically being dragged out by uniformed policemen and one very scared-looking security guard, and the whole time he was yelling, "You can't do this! You can't do this! I'm the number-one nigga in this city!" I had no idea such a rank order even existed.

3. Watching one of our police video shows one domestically cozy, beer-soaked Friday night, LT and I more or less fell in love with a naked old crazy man. This Alabama police cruiser had pulled behind a naked old man, and was trying to get him into the car. However, the naked guy determinedly and nakedly continued to walk down the highway, yelling over his shoulder that Jesus had told him to walk naked to Florida. The cop was trying to reason with him, and suddenly the naked guy turned (there was lots of pixellation involved) and said, "Look, have you ever seen that movie Star Wars?" AND THAT WAS THE END OF THE FOOTAGE, despite howls of protest from me and LT. We would have liked to hear his theory.


T. and I were having a discussion about awkward situations, like running into a one-night stand on the train. Then we spent some time thinking about the ultimate awkward situation, and thought about what if you took a girl you just met at a bar home, and decided to get freaky and try anal sex for the first time in the shower, and she slipped and fell and broke her arm. Now I think about this a lot, and imagine the different scenarios. So funny, but so very not funny! So awkward, but so tender and touching at the same time! If we lived in a better, groovier universe, situations like these would be the stuff of sitcoms!

smartypantsmimi: Oh man. Are you okay?
feedmewithyrkids: Then you're all like, do you call the ambulance right away, or clean up first?
smartypantsmimi: What if she had to have surgery? Pins and things? You'd be responsible for calling a friend to stay with her, letting her employer know she'll be out, oh my god what a mess.
feedmewithyrkids: Nobody else would know.
feedmewithyrkids: "She, um. Fell in the shower."
feedmewithyrkids: "My dick happened to be halfway up her ass when it happened."
smartypantsmimi: Now you are calling her best friend at two in the morning and asking her to come to the hospital. You are like the worst person ever in her eyes.
smartypantsmimi: This is such a fertile idea for a short story.
feedmewithyrkids: And then 6 years later you run into this person in line at the post office. "Uh. Hi. How's the arm?"
smartypantsmimi: The story could be told from all perspectives: penetrator, penetratee, boss, best friend, stranger on the train who sees her looking sad in a cast, bar of soap.
feedmewithyrkids: The poor bar of soap.
smartypantsmimi: He was horrified.
feedmewithyrkids: And he's left behind with ass hairs stuck all over himself.
smartypantsmimi: He never knows what happened to that poor girl.
feedmewithyrkids: Nobody to wipe off the ass hairs and put him away properly.
smartypantsmimi: He thinks about it often, as he is gradually worn down to a nub.
smartypantsmimi: Sniff. This is a sad story. A writers' workshop special presentation.

---mimi smartypants will be right back after these messages.


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