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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

2002-10-06 ... 11:33 a.m.


Here are some things that can kind of mess up one's worldview (of course, my worldview is somewhat fragile. Today I feel like the hairdryer of insanity is sort of teetering on the edge of the bathtub of well-being. I am in the bathtub of well-being up to my neck in chamomile soapsuds and I say Hey, be careful with that thing!)

1. A very stinky plant. This is great reading if you like weird plants, as I do.

2. Hitting the pointy part of your ankle bone on the tub as you climb into the shower in the morning, and you wouldn't think that such a minor injury could hurt so incredibly much, to the point where before you even duck under the spray you have to stare straight ahead like an evil robot in an action movie and chant "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." And then you feel bad when you realize that those are the first words you have spoken all this morning, and it just can't be good karma to welcome the new day with such profanity.

3. Reading the back of my (that second-person bullshit was starting to get to me) dehydrated soup cup and noticing that one of the ingredients is "vinegar powder." That just seems strange, vinegar powder. Vinegar is an essential substance that I thought always occurred in liquid form. This comes perilously close to the old joke about powdered water. Vinegar powder.

3a. Although the soup cup is good the official name of it is Cha-Cha Chili, and that's just a horrible, asinine name and I wish I could scratch the face of the person who dreamed it up.

4. Do you have those jokes that are sort of permanently in your head but you never remember to say them at the appropriate times? After a session of deep kissing I have always wanted to whisper this in my kissing partner's ear:

"Did I mention my saliva was poisonous?"

But I've had this odd bon mot on the tip of my tongue (heh) for years and have never remembered to use it, because tongue kissing tends to leave me without anything witty to say. Maybe you'll have better luck. If you use this, give me credit. As you slide your hand down your kissing partner's pants, say, "Remember that funny thing I said a while ago? I stole that from Mimi."

5. Americans rarely prepare soup.

It is Sunday morning and I am trying to rehydrate. Creaky like Sunday morning. Dusty like Sunday morning. Certainly there's nothing easy about Sunday morning. Friday night I went out for a rather frantic evening with my sister and a friend, the guy I would not be allowed to sit next to in class if we went to school together (because we pretty much never shut up with the private jokes and the running commentary and so forth). Rather Frantic Evening quickly became well, rather frantic, as we had pre-drinks, and then a snack, and then went to Quimby's for a reading by the man behind Hamster Man. The reading had cookies and beer. There was a ukulele involved. Although cookies/beer/ukulele is THE CLASSIC RECIPE FOR PARTY SUCCESS, the scene was insanely crowded and I started to long for my cozy booth back at the bar, so we headed back there for more drinks.

I am such a dork but please put up with it for a while longer because I want to record these...these things. Is there a name for this sort of word game? I can't seem to stop making these.

1. Simply Red House Painters

2. Neil Simon Le Bon

3. David Foster Wallace Stevens

4. Ed Norton Utilities

5. Cinnamon Graham Greene Day

6. Stevie Wonder Bread

7. A Farewell To Arms And The Man

8. Queens Of The Stone Age Of Reason

All done now, thanks.

The next day LT and I got up and did stuff, and then we summoned all our courage, which had been hiding in dark drafty corners of our bodies, and went to IKEA. It takes bravery. IKEA tends to turn me into a two-year-old. It's so big and confusing and there are people everywhere and I just want to lay down on the floor and cry. In fact, IKEA did not even have the specific thing we went to IKEA for (DAMN YOU IKEA! DAMN YOU AND YOUR SWEDISH WAYS!), so we bought light bulbs and a big-ass plant and got the hell out of there.

That night Kat came over with photos of her trip to Paris and we drank much wine. Hence the creaky dustiness of my Sunday morning. She brought me a copy of French Cosmopolitan, so now I can read about "le sexe."

My my. My vote goes to "the screw of Archimedes." (And what a screw it is! [ba dum bum. rimshot]) This chapter also has extensive advice on how to do the nasty if one or both of you is a hunchback, which may come in handy one of these days if you continue to be stubborn and not take your calcium. And here's the 16th-century equivalent of "increase your penis size" spam.


It serves only frittatas, of all varieties and flavors. It is called FRITTATAPOCALYPSE, and the theme is post-nuclear disaster, eschatology, destruction, the end of the world. Décor: we'll break out all the windows, put a layer of thick gray dust over everything, turn some of the chairs over, rip out the light fixtures and leave them hanging by their cords. Maybe even knock down part of a wall or something. No refills on water, but your first glass comes with an iodine tablet. No reservations. But the frittatas are delicious, and we have valet parking.

WELL WASN'T THIS ENTRY JUST BRIMMING WITH FUCKING WHIMSY. I hope we all learned a little something today, which is that I should probably wait until I have something to say before I send my little fingers poking all over the keyboard. Thank you and good night.

---mimi smartypants faked her own death.


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