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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

2002-09-19 ... 10:05 p.m.


You know that I would never poke fun at homeless crazy people, right? Well okay, yeah, I would. But you have to understand the spirit in which it is done. Part of me of course wishes that there weren't any homeless crazy people. It would be particularly grand if we could do away with the "homeless" part. And if one's mental illness causes one pain and distress (unlike mine, which causes me nothing but GOOD TIMES!), then obviously that's no good. But I have to say that many of the crazy street people whom I encounter in Chicago are crazy with flair and style, and seem to either be enjoying themselves or at least to be so deep in their delusions as to sort of constitute an entirely other universe of their own. They are not of our world. And thus it is not exploitation or a cheap shot if I document these individuals here, online, for the enlightenment and possible enjoyment of others.

[My constant need to explain myself will probably be the death of me. Or rather it will be the life of me, because if I ever get too close to suicide I think about how people would talk about me behind my back, and I would get no chance to respond, and that would just anger me. You can leave a note but that's no good because everyone would have different reactions to the note; their dialogue is ongoing and yours has ended. There's a bit of a sick-and-wrong and extremely depressing moral in there somewhere, about how life is one long rebuttal to the persuasive whisper of death, or about how a selfish bitch like me continues to walk the planet just so she can get the last word in, but it doesn't do to examine that too closely, does it? Because frankly, we've had a few drinks tonight.]

Crazy homeless people with flair and style. Oh yes. Two new (to me) Loop/River North citizens: There was a man hanging out by Marshall Field's the other day who was wearing shoes (construction boots) tied around his neck like ice skates (he had sneakers on his feet) and he was yelling out baseball statistics. One side of his face was pretty sunburned but not the other. But the best dude ever hangs out by the IBM building. He's a fairly young black guy with a long, pointy beard. He wears a shower cap and a suede fringed jacket and has a HUGE falconry-style black leather armband (wrist to elbow, seriously) with two-inch metal spikes all over it. Today he had about four beef jerky sticks stuck in his mouth like straight pins, and he was sort of moaning and grunting through his beefy harmonica. (Wow, that sounded dirty. Trust me, it's not at all sexy in person. Intriguing, maybe, from about 50 yards away or at a brisk walking pace. But not sexy.)

Tonight I went to a new yoga class, and it was very nice. Very pranayama based, and it's amazing to realize just how little I breathe during the day. I really need to work on that. I liked the teacher too. Sometimes she would walk around and adjust us and she had impossibly gentle hands, and that plus all the special breathing made me kind of weepy and raw. Took the bus home and got creative with the food processor. Are there any vegans in the house? Take a can of (unmarinated) artichoke hearts and drain those puppies. (Oh sorry. Not puppies. I forgot this was addressed to vegans.) Add 8-10 oz of drained soft tofu, two tablespoons lemon juice, one tablespoon olive oil, some chopped fresh basil, a garlic clove, and some salt. WHIRL! PULSE! PROCESS! EAT WITH CRACKERS! It makes a lot. Be warned.

I had my crackery tofufest all alone because LT went to a hockey game. LT has never been to a hockey game, and doesn't know a damn thing about hockey. I don't either, but I have been to a hockey game because I secretly have the bloodlust way down deep in my soul. A friend had an extra ticket and invited him, and although he was dubious that he could grow hockey hair in time for the game he accepted anyway. So our evenings vastly diverged: me with yoga and tofu, while he watched fistfights and undoubtedly ate some sort of tubular meat product.


I think my preferences were accidentally wiped or something, because I don't normally allow just any Joe Schmoe to contact me over IM, but I was happily typing away THIS VERY ENTRY (not editing, not deliberating, not agonizing---these thingamajiggers are written in one fell swoop) (right now you are like: Uh yeah, Mimi, tell us something we couldn't guess) and the chat window pops up with: Hi Mimi. Now I am not about to chat with a stranger but I'm in a weird mood so I type back: Hi. Guess what this guy's next move was. Yes! You are correct! "Wanna fuck?" For crying out loud. I typed: Sure! Let me go put on my WannaFuck hat and I'll be right back! Then I made it look like I was offline and continued to live my life. There have been no further inquiries about my desire to fuck, and my preferences have been restored. All is well.

Wow. "Within 3 hours of the application of bacon..."

This is one of the prettiest equations I have ever seen. It's got it all: the giant sigma, the big cursive f, Greek letters, prime symbols...all the hot math stuff in one happy hot math bundle. If anyone can explain this in English, e-mail me. That would be hot.

---mimi smartypants is strong to the finish because she eats her spinach.


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