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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

2002-10-08 ... 3:29 p.m.

I have been given a new phone at work. It has two lines and speakerphone capabilities and a window where the number of who is calling pops up, so you can decide to ignore them ha ha ha. The new phone even has Buttons Of Great Mystery, buttons whose function I cannot even guess at, buttons with labels like "PICK" and "XFER" and "SYS SPD."

I have also just received a new corporate American Express card, which I have resisted getting up until now because I almost never need that sort of thing. But there is business travel in my future and Accounts Payable* is getting squinky about us using personal cards and getting reimbursed.

(Dude, I always get Accounts Payable and Accounts Receivable mixed up. It's some weird brain-block I have. Which one writes checks? That's the one I mean.)

AND (wait, there's more? yes there is!), I had a private meeting with a worried employee today and totally solved her problem. I feel frighteningly powerful and efficient. Fear my power! Fear my moderate amount of power!

I have to enjoy it while I can, for the inevitable crash looms. Or I could have yet another cup of tea and continue to experience the wonderful dirty-bloodstream feeling of too much caffeine. My veins are like tributaries of some particularly nasty river full of carcinogens, abandoned shopping carts, and hobo corpses. I wonder if professional dominatrixes drink coffee or tea all day, because my benign, problem-solving, business-oriented sense of power feels like it could shade over at any moment to a naughty, riding-crop, hair-pulling, dominating-your-ass-all-the-way-to-Brooklyn-and-back sense of power. I KNOW. IT'S VERY SCARY. Maybe I should lay off the tea.


Along with the mysterious Gourmet magazine, another periodical that has been arriving at my house without my intervention is Vice. It seems to be sort of a weird fashion/music/poorly articulated rants sort of thing, and I flip through it each month but I am not terribly impressed. However, I did laugh really hard at one of the sections: a pictorial with mini-reviews of different sexual devices. I'm quoting from memory since it's not on the site, but it was a review of a ball gag and said something like this: Nothing says "Women's Studies has no place here" like a ball gag. After you get done you will be all "Ohmygod baby who did this to you?" and rushing to unbuckle it---until a few days later when you are both like "Where is that thing?"


Why do the British and the Canadians spell nouns like behaviour and colour in that funny extravoweled way, but not adjectives like inferior or superior? What is linguistically different between one set of -or words and the next? GOOGLE YOU WERE NO HELP TO ME TODAY.

Why I have irrational exasperation with old people. I feel so guilty about it, because they can't help being old and slow, and god knows I will be old and slow myself someday (barring overdoses, dread diseases, extreme intensification of crushing despair, bus accidents, earthquakes, etc), but when I am standing there in the overheated Osco Drug at Devon and California, after a crappy day at work, and all I want to do is pick up some damn allergy medicine, and I am trapped behind deaf, non-English-speaking, befuddled octogenarians, it takes all my strength not to go totally kung fu and start breaking hips. Maybe I will suggest that Osco establish a separate window for the hale and hearty. It's not discrimination, it's efficiency.

(There's the fascist trains-run-on-time Caffeine Mimi again. Did you catch that? Oops, there she goes again! Behind that tree! Quick, get the tranquilizer gun!)

Oh man. I want the Fire Bible. However, I want it for performance art purposes, not for my Sunday School class. I used to have a Sunday School class. Okay, that's not true. But I have been known to pontificate on metaphysical and eschatological subjects early on Sunday mornings, but then usually someone shoves me in a cab, or yells JESUS CHRIST [editor's note: see? my students are catching on!] KEEP IT DOWN OUT THERE, or gently tells me that they're closing so please move along.

Jesus loves you. But. You know.

Teeny tiny entry but I am off to the library. What's that, you say? Off to the library? Mimi Smartypants, do you or do you not have a stack of five unread books and two unread magazines on your bedroom table-type thing, which is really an old thrifted Army footlocker on which you throw your work clothes until you can motivate your lazy ass into hanging them up? So why are you going to the library? Because I am a SNEAKY BITCH, and I noticed that the stack of books is due back on Monday, and even if I take the rest of the week off and do nothing but stay home and read I won't finish all those books by Monday. And the library, of course, won't let you take out more books if there are overdue ones at home. So I will go today, and take back what I am finished with, and get more books (MORE BOOKS!), and bwahahahahah my evil plan is working perfectly. With a twirl of my evil mustache and a flounce of my evil cape, I am out of here.

---mimi smartypants has retreated to her underground lair.


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