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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

2006-08-15 ... 2:59 a.m.


Honestly, I do not go around getting in tiffs with strangers, although if you have read enough of my drivel you may believe otherwise. It is simply more interesting to report my run-in with the neighborhood crazy person than it is to write about the many days that I travel to and fro on public transportation, left completely in peace to read or stare out the window while thinking about monkeys. (I am reading Ayun Halliday's No Touch Monkey! and the angry monkey on the cover is really freaking me out. I am pretty close to the monkey freak-out edge as it is, so a monkey in mid-scream is very much not my thing. I may have to make a book cover.)

Petty shit keeps going down on the street. Yesterday a super-high-fashion queeny man stumbled into me and then somehow I got the dirty looks and the little exasperated sighs. Normally I would just move on but because of whatever Crabby Virus is going on I found myself saying, "YOU bump into ME and I get the fish eye? Oh I don't THINK so." I did not mean to use stereotypically queeny diction but it completely slipped out. And it must have sounded authentic, because he made a contrite noise and walked away.

The next day I was on the bus and deep in my monkey thoughts when I accidentally pulled the stop cord too early. The bus driver pulled over and then made an irritated gesture when I said, "Sorry, I want the next one." When she did pull over one block later, she met my eye in the rearview and said, "Are you sure?"

For some reason this got my dander up and I said, "Yes, and you can keep your sarcasm." She started protesting that she was "just trying to help" and I was like "whatever, that was bitchy and you know it" and other passengers were desperately craning their necks to witness the CTA Smackdown. Oh lord. As I was walking home I got briefly embarrassed and worried that maybe I had misread the whole thing, and that the bus driver was being completely literal about my apparent street confusion, but then I decided that a reputation as a Bus Bad-Ass would not be entirely unwelcome, in any case.


Oh boo fucking hoo. Stressed out and drunk does not equal the rape and murder of a child. Being in "constant fear for their lives"---which, by the way, I have no doubt that they were---is no kind of excuse for being a bunch of rapist scumbags, and I hope that the book is indeed thrown.


This domain name is killing me. So are the products. I am sorely tempted to break out the ironing board and create a HEGEMONY OF YUPPIE PARENTING FREE KID or a SUBSERVIENCE TO TRENDY GROUPTHINK FREE KID t-shirt for Nora. As a secondary topic, I would just like to briefly revive my rant about people who don't watch TV and feel the need to tell you that. Some of the not-watching TV people are just as bad as the Jesus people with the constant mentioning of their non-relevant belief system.

1. Normal person says something about the weather. Insane Lifestyle Mentioner says that it's a bright and sunny day because his relationship with Jesus Christ makes it sunny in his heart, and that is where the real true weather is anyway. Normal person nods and leaves the room, secretly wanting to say something like, "Hey, Jesus and I had a long talk the other day and he loves you? But as a friend? Like, he cares about you a lot but he think it would be good to see other people? Also, he'd like his sweater back."

2. Normal person makes a joke about work team being like the A-Team, and references driving the van. Insane Lifestyle Mentioner asks, "Was that on TV? Because I donít own a TV. I haven't watched TV since I was a child. I have better things to do with my time than sit in front of the television." Normal person nods and leaves the room, secretly wanting to bash the ILM over the head with an Urkel doll. Oh you don't have a TV? Well I don't have a neurotic need to trumpet my imagined intellectual superiority. All this means is that I can whip your ass in BOTH the "Reflexivity in Chomskyan Linguistics" and the "Great One-Liners From Freaks And Geeks" trivia categories. So step off.



I probably have more At The Table rules than most parents of preschoolers---perhaps having an extensive collection of etiquette books has damaged me, in that I have fairly high table-manner expectations of Nora. She is supposed to use her utensils, refrain from spitting out offending items, sit more or less calmly in her chair, etc. Sometimes these rules get mightily relaxed, depending on my wine consumption, energy level, or just feeling that I have been on her case too much that day and that I need to chill. The other day she was eating linguine with her fingers, slurping up each long noodle Lady And The Tramp-style, and she gave me this quick glance to see if I was going to say anything. When I didn't, Nora opined, conversationally: "It's okay that I suck."

"Oh yeah," I said. "It's totally okay that you suck."

Because three-year-olds never say anything just once, we had the exchange again---With the short noodles, I use the fork. With the long noodles, mommy, it's okay that I suck. It's okay that I suck, right? Sure thing sweetie. I mean, you should try not to suck all the time. But right now, it is okay that you suck.

Oh Nora. I love you more than anything, and I am sorry for having an evil mental chuckle at your adorable expense. But when you give me openings like that, I am honestly unable not to take them.


1. Yo Gabba Gabba. We can't stop watching. More, please.

2. Having a family who goads me into possibly getting sued for harassment. I have an employee who hates eggplant. I made an eggplant thing in the crockpot last night, and said at the dinner table, "Hey, did you know that [name of coworker] hates eggplant?"

LT: Call her up and tell her we're eating eggplant right now.
Me: Why would I do that?
LT: I don't know. Just to gross her out.
Nora: Call [coworker name]! Tell her about the eggplant! Make an eggplant noise in the phone.
Me: I don't think an eggplant crank call is a good supervisor/employee interaction.
LT: HR can't touch you, man. You were just making conversation!
Nora: Call her right now! You say EGGPLANT FOR DINNER! And then you press some buttons. And then you hang up. Okay? Okay.

---mimi smartypants has Prince Albert in a can.


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