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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

2003-10-01 ... 8:41 p.m.


Okay, you should really watch this program on the urban elephant if you get a chance, even though it made me WEEP about six different times. Listen up, TiVo: Yes, I do like watching television depicting animals going about their animal business, but that does not mean I am some kind of emotional masochist who wants to be all SAD ABOUT ELEPHANTS. I wish that programs TiVo recorded for you came with an extra tragedy-mask-shaped glyph off to the side that would warn you about these sorts of things. Or maybe some kind of stylized tampon-shaped or razor-blade-shaped glyph, to symbolize, "Are you suicidal or menstrual? Don't watch this. Read a book instead. A HAPPY BOOK."

Also, I still believe that TiVo needs that irony button.

But I was talking about elephants, and why they make me cry. Because THEY ARE SO NICE, that's why. They live in big girlfriend-y female family groups, and they all take care of the babies very sweetly and gently and wonderfully and oh damn it you knew there would be a baby animal involved, didn't you? Well sue me but have you LOOKED at a baby elephant lately? You could die, or at least become seriously injured, of the cute.

There was also a sad segment about a female elephant who had lived alone (a big no-no for such a social animal) for twenty years at a Louisiana zoo, and she had the same keeper the whole time, and Solomon (the keeper) and Shirley (the elephant) hung out every day for all of those twenty years. The decision was made to send Shirley to an elephant sanctuary, where she could have some company, and although you knew it was the best thing it was pretty hard to watch Solomon say goodbye to her. BUT WAIT IT GETS WORSE. When Shirley arrived at the sanctuary, she was put in the barn and eventually the other elephants, who are free-range all over the hundred or so acres, wandered in to take a look at her. One elephant named Jenny starting going absolutely bonkers to get to Shirley, and it turns out she and Shirley knew each other from twenty-five years ago, when they were in the same circus. So the elephant girlfriends were all excited and happy, and they walked all over the sanctuary for three days stuck to each other's sides, touching trunks constantly, because they had a lot to talk about after twenty years apart, and by this time I am face-down on the couch and half a box of tissue is gone. Thanks a lot, television. You warn us about "sexual situations" and "coarse language" but not about "elephant pathos."

Today I was thinking of super-huge sideburns and looking for pictures of such online, and you thought Elvis? You thought George Jones? You thought maybe even those dork hipster guys growing mirror-image outlines of Idaho on either side of their faces? Sorry, the winners are clearly the contestants at the World Beard Championships.

Ugh. So tired. I can do the four-hour sleeps once or maybe even twice a week, but this week has not yet seen its full complement of slumber. Every single abbreviated nap has been my own damn fault. Sunday it was my Big Crazy Brain that would not let me rest. Monday I stayed up late to watch every single humiliating moment of the Bears loss in the new Soldier Field. The opening home game was filled with oh so many memorable "firsts" taking place in the revamped stadium! First missed tackle! First blocked punt! First ridiculous two-yard pass on third-and-ten! First, no wait make that seventeenth, time I have called for John Shoop to be fired! Not just fired, but fired on the Jumbotron during halftime! First time I truly realized that firing him would not really matter, and that without decent personnel, Shoop might as well call whatever damn-fool plays he wants! Because we just plain suck!

Ahem. And then last night I needed to experience the funk of The Watchers at Empty Bottle, all well and good and fun times until you get home at two in the morning and realize you need to get up in three, at most four, hours. I am not quite walking into walls, but I am weaving a bit. I am not quite hallucinating, but I do have flashes of light in my peripheral vision and I spoke out loud to my socks today (whispering "why are you doing this to me?" when they sagged down around my ankles for the five hundredth time today. I need more elasticky socks). I am not quite weepy, touchy, or hypersensitive, except that I needed to kill everyone in Osco (particularly the woman who was asking the pharmacist over and over again what the difference was between two brands of vitamin C---he eventually got really exasperated and said "THE LABEL" and I silently cheered), and except that when I got home LT made some comment about my new deodorant smelling kind of weird and I shut myself in the bedroom for an hour to avoid getting all raging-bitch on his ass. Some sleep is definitely needed.



1. When I was eight I attended a production of Annie and sat next to then-Illinois-governor Jim Thompson. I had no idea why people were getting his autograph at intermission, so I politely asked him who he was, and he roared with laughter in a fat-Republican way and repeated the question to everyone within earshot, which was totally embarrassing, and I got pissed and asked my friend to switch seats with me.

2. David Duchovny stepped on my foot while I was getting my book signed by David Foster Wallace at a Borders.

3. Susie Bright borrowed a pen from me once.

4. "Famous" people I have passed on the street or in airports include Jerry Springer, the Empire Carpet Guy, Janeane Garofolo, Spaulding Gray, and Paul Shaffer. I ignored everyone, except with Paul Shaffer I said, "Hey Paul" as I passed, because I was feeling jaunty that day.

5. My grandmother was the pen pal of Sue Grafton. Grandma wrote her a fan letter, Grafton wrote back, and they corresponded for years and years.

6. My friend Kat ended up hanging out with Lou Diamond Phillips at a bar once. She got really, really drunk, and vaguely remembers dissing him to his face about something or other. I love this story.

7. I used to be a Soloist Coordinator for a symphony orchestra, which included making all the arrangements for a (then) two-legged Rachel Barton. She was totally bitchy to me. Which has nothing to do with her horrible accident, I don't mean to imply anything of the sort. Just thought I'd mention it.

8. The guy from the practically-one-hit-wonder band Urge Overkill, whose name I am too lazy to look up right now, once bought me a drink at Delilah's.


When LT and I got a digital camera, we did what everyone does with it first off (right?)---took some amateur-porn photos. A few days later my father-in-law came to visit, and I was helping LT in the kitchen, fixing drinks and stuff. When I came back I saw my father-in-law holding the camera, trying to figure out how to turn it on, and since I knew the naughty shots were still on there I practically flew across the room to snatch it away. There are many things I do not need, and Intrafamilial Knowledge Of Nudity And Shocking Lewdness is way high on that list.

---mimi smartypants may ask herself, "Where does that highway lead to?"


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