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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

2003-08-18 ... 5:12 p.m.


1. Are you strong? Do you have a buddy who is also strong? Do me a favor then: you take the north side of Chicago, your friend will take the south side (should that be capitalized? Residents of said Side would say yes, but I am not so sure), and on a count of three you both pick up your ends and twist. Wring out all the fetid drippiness and supersoaker unbreathable humidity that is cursing my city. But what about all the kittens and puppy dogs? you cry. What about the citizens of Chicago, what about the architecture and priceless museum treasures? How will they fare, in what will probably become known to history as The Great Wringing? We will be okay, and it will be worth it to have this washcloth of a city dry and temperate again. Now get twisting.

2. I am in a rut. Or something. Actually I think it is more like a trench. There is a lot on my mind and the obvious solution---write it down, girlfriend!---which has usually worked for me in the past, has not been very appealing lately.

3. (Chicago-centric) Western Avenue takes top honors as the most hooty street in the whole city. Every time I wait for the bus there I am severely hooted at by carloads of different types of hooty boys. Some hooty boy subtypes include the Bombay Mafia type (creases in jeans, wraparound sunglasses, t-shirt with a vest over it, lots of product in hair, trying their best to look like a Hindi film star). There is also the hip-hop kind of hooty boy. These guys tend to not only hoot but also yell something Doppler-effect-unintelligible as they speed by. And of course, that perennial favorite, the old-coke-addict with the pornstar mustache. Sometimes you actually wish this type would do something as interactive as hoot, as they prefer to slow their cars down to a crawl and stare at you as they roll up to the red light.

I should not bitch too much, as many women have the hooty problem much worse than I do. Being underbuxom and nondescript (a Mimi in a plain brown wrapper) has its advantages.

4. I recently met a very nice girl in a social setting, and during our conversation she let it be known that she was gay. Which, of course, is just fine with me. However, during the ensuing small talk she also mentioned about eight or ten times that she has a girlfriend. She did this in with a kind of weird warning tone, as if letting me know that SHE WAS NOT AVAILABLE. So then I felt like I had to mention that I AM MARRIED. I mean, if you want to stand here and trade Escalating Commitments we can do that, but really I would rather just have a normal conversation. I still wonder what that was all about---was she newly out and making a point of it? Does my reputation for occasional girl makeout precede me, and is she trying to preempt any designs I might have on her pure, girlfriended heart? I really am not all that seductive, honest. No one's girlfriend has anything to worry about. Let's just have another beer.

5. A drugstore run was made recently, and now LT and Mimi are using a brand-new tube of toothpaste. It has a flip-top cap, and it has always bothered me how globbed up with toothpaste those get, and then last week I had an EPIPHANY---one can just twist off the entire flip-top cap exactly as if it were the old-style toothpaste cap. Everything stays neater this way. This seemed simultaneously very illuminating and very obvious to me, and I wondered why I had not thought of it before, since I brush my teeth a lot and the globbed-up flip-top cap is a constant small source of irritation, and every once in a while I have to take tissue or a putty knife and get rid of the toothpaste stalactites that collect around the flip-top and gunk it up like a diseased colon. (OH MY GOD. That has got to be my most vile simile EVER. WE HAVE A WINNER.)

I decided not to share this epiphany with LT, because the poor guy, by virtue of being married to me, already suffers through much oversharing in the area of Miniscule Epiphanies. Here is the thing, though: ever since my epiphany, the toothpaste tube has stayed sparkly clean and unglobbed. Which means that either we had the same twist-off cap epiphany at the same time (unlikely), or that the source of the horrible messy toothpaste globbiness was ME all along. So I had been suffering through low-level dentifrice aggravation OF MY OWN MAKING. LT has probably been twisting off flip-top caps for years. Oh the shame, oh the wasted effort.

6. Friday I took the day off to finish a project. It did not get finished, but the finish line is in sight. Not surprisingly, I have trouble with big incremental things, and am more of a cross-it-off-the-list type person. Sometimes I think that I would make an excellent prostitute or day laborer---one john serviced, one ditch dug, and on to the next thing. In order to work on my project at all successfully I had to do weird things like set the oven timer for exactly one hour before sitting down at the computer. Knowing there is an end to my toil, even an artificial one, is the only way I can handle it. I will always choose four or five one-hour sessions of work than a full day. Sprint typing.

I also took a short nap that day and had a wonderful dream that featured DJ Rotten Milk, a leather ottoman from my childhood home that was one of my favorite humping objects, the Brighton train station, a futuristic pinball machine that required you to control the flow of water (instead of a metal ball) through a gravitational maze, and a party turning into an orgy and me saying, "oh I wasn't invited, maybe I should leave," and my friend saying "please stay, it will be fun, and there is ice cream afterwards."

7. This pair of pink salad tongs is part of the Vaginal Tightening Program.

8. A dirty telephone and then a nice clean telephone.

---mimi smartypants, oh why not.


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