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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

2002-10-13 ... 3:44 p.m.


How about a drawing of General LaFayette riding on a outlandishly sized penis?

Blessed are the cocksuckers, which really should be one word and not two like this article thinks.

History of a Victorian-era robot.

I am thinking about adding an fake Irish prejudice to my fake Belgian prejudice. The Irish are so dirty there's a special soap to wash them. They are drunk all the time and they eat lots of potatoes, at least if you go by the jokes, which is the only way to form one's fake prejudices. And they have that horrible Celtic music and that creepy stiff-legged dance style, and St Patrick's Day is the worst holiday ever because it involves basically nothing but drinking. I enjoy drinking but I don't need to paint a shamrock on my face and run around like a green-sweatered idiot in order to do so. The end. Go Go Gadget Fake Irish Prejudice!


Believe it or not, I have had some requests via e-mail for the actual lyrics to the "Hey Mickey" parody that is all about The Odyssey. Because I like to invite ridicule to rain down upon my tiny little head, I will post them here. Oy. You have to remember that I was twelve years old when I wrote this, okay?

(Begin thinking of the "Hey Mickey" tune right about now. It will linger in your brain like spongiform encephalitis and won't that be fun! Ready?)

He went! On a trip! In a great big sailing ship!
Ulysses! Ulysses!
He fought a bunch of bloody wars
At Troy he jumped out from a horse
Ulysses! Ulysses!

Ulysses, Ulysses, you're so very bold
All you want is to go home, your wife you want to hold.
Ulysses, Ulysses, you have traveled far
It would have been much easier!
If you had had a car Ulysses, car Ulysses!
Go buy a car Ulysses!

I decline to post the next verse, about the Cyclops, because it's just too embarrassing. There is a limit to how much humiliation I can take in one day.

The other day I was washing my hands in the employee restroom when this woman came in with toothbrushing gear, pasted up her brush, and then went into a toilet stall to do the brushing. With the door locked and everything. I could hear her spit into the toilet. Do you think she just has excessive privacy requirements? I brush my teeth at work too, but I don't really care who sees.

Check this [paraphrased] shit out:

Dear Ms. Smartypants: Thank you for your recent inquiry regarding the suspension of your driver's license. You have been dismissed of any further responsibility or obligation for parking violations [eighteen different ten-digit numbers here]. Our records have been updated accordingly and a request to rescind the suspension of your driver's license has been forwarded to the Secretary of State.

LT IS MY HERO. Plus some dude at the state legislature who was instrumental in fixing all of this. Remember that my lawyer said that the case was totally hopeless and that I should cough up $1300 for the Thieving Ho's parking tickets, incurred by her stolen car. Ha! You know what else is totally hopeless, Mr. Lawyer? Trying to get me to pay any bill for your non-help that you might choose to send.

Anyway, I am totally grateful to LT for solving this conundrum. I suck at puzzling out complex, incremental, long-term, daily-attention-required problems like this identity theft thing----I am more of a "cross it off the to-do list," organized sort of person---and every time I tried to hack my way through the red tape I practically started to cry, and now, thanks to his persistence, the whole heap of trauma is behind me. I am waving to it as the train pulls away from the station. Bye-bye, Heap Of Trauma!

Oh wait. Looks like there is trauma up ahead, too, organized this time not in one big heap but many smaller, treacherous heaps. Here's the thing. I promised I would deliver a chapter of the book I am helping to write (it's nothing fun or literary, trust me) by October 21. I promised I would have the first draft of another big project ready by November 4. I promised I would have a 2000-word article written by November 15. Oh, and there's another big project's paperwork all due by November 15 as well. In between, I promised I would, hmm, let's see, work full-time; try not to have my house swallowed up by a Yawning Abyss* of cat hair, books, and unopened mail; practice yoga; go to violin lessons; see the Yeah Yeah Yeahs at Empty Bottle; and so forth.

*Those Abysses. Always Yawning. You never hear of a Sneezing Abyss or a Ticklish Abyss.

You know what is really going to bite me in the ass this year? Xmas. Fuck Xmas. I have other things to be stressed about, and I refuse to stress about Xmas. I think my whole family is just going to have to agree that Xmas will be a calm affair this year, and we will treat it as an opportunity to get drunk and eat cookies and make silly jokes rather than as an opportunity to showcase our gift-giving creativity. What with all the busy-ness, I think I would appreciate a simple slowing down, a simple being-wrestled-to-the-floor-and-given-a-drunken-heartfelt-noogie, more than any gift.


After beer on Friday night my dreams were all crafty. First I had a dream that my drinking partner and I were mushing up ice cream sandwiches in the blender and then re-freezing the resulting goop onto popsicle sticks. Why? Later in the dream we were making duct tape wallets and had a lot of duct tape left over, so we wadded it up into a big ball and threw it out the window.


I'm taking a poll: how do you like your punk rock vocals? Controlled shouting, a la Naked Raygun, Fugazi, etc? Or frenzied screaming and wailing, like noise bands, X, or Husker Du? I personally am a fan of screaming. There isn't enough screaming in my life, so I screamed a bit in the shower this morning. It was nice. There ought to be kiosks around town where you can pop in and practice your full-frontal-freakout horror-movie scream, because it is very liberating.

---mimi smartypants ran away from home with $2 and a washcloth.


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