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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
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There needs to be a line of greeting cards for total strangers. Here are some examples of cards I require in my daily life. WOW YOUR PANTS ARE TIGHT! [inside the card] THOSE ARE SOME TIGHT PANTS! HEY GUY WITH GIANT AFRO... [inside the card] CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR GIANT AFRO! Happy Halloween to the short girl who gets off the train at Sheridan! [inside the card] You have cool shoes and I, um, "thought" about you while "napping" once. Just thought you should know. Well. Happy Halloween indeed. I didn't wear a costume to work but I did pile on the bat- and skull-related jewelry. So if you want to force my work outfit into a "costume" mold, I guess it could be construed as "Aging Goth." I attended a bar party last night in costume. I used to go to the Underground Lounge occasionally but hadn't been there in a while and it was totally weird what a "meet" market the place feels like now...maybe that was merely the Halloween vibes. Halloween brings out the slut in us all. It wasn't gross or anything, I just got the feeling that people were on the hook-up prowl. Ultimately it worked in my favor, however, as some stranger apparently told my friend that I was "way cute," and since THAT NEVER HAPPENS I was vaguely pleased. I would rather be formidable, dangerous, maleficent, barbarous, intimidating: but if "cute" is all that is on offer I will take what I can get. Another costume party tomorrow night. This is the most Halloween I have had since I was a tiny child. I was a good girl at the Underground Lounge and only had two beers, arrived home at around 2 am, and had a lengthy debate with myself about whether it was worth going to bed at all or whether my body would be better served by just making some tea and staying up. I did decide on catching a few hours of sleep but the point quickly became moot as I mostly just lay awake until it was time to get up anyway. Get a little rock and roll in me and that's all she wrote when it comes to sleep, leaving me with a surplus of energy that can only be relieved by thrashing about in the bed periodically. I amused myself by trying to thrash about in a graceful and rhythmic manner, to the tune of the leftover music in my head, and pretended I was inventing a new dance craze, because there really are not enough dances that you can do lying down. (No, don't go there, you oversexed goon.) It probably looked to the outside observer more like a seizure than a lying-down dance, but there were no outside observers since LT was very sensibly asleep and The Cat was off attending to her Nighttime Cat Duties somewhere else in the house. The moral of the story is: DRINK MORE. ARE YOU TALKING TO ME? Neither one, baby. Neither one. Neither journalism school nor community college. It's kind of funny that anyone would ever compare me to a journalist. Whatever I'm doing here (and there are days when I have no idea what I'm doing here), it certainly isn't journalism. A NEW JOKE (?) Q: How many tentacles does Great Cthulhu have? A: Too many. MORE OVERHEARD CONVERSATION (WHO DO I THINK I AM, MIGHTY GIRL?) Guy #1: So, like, in the play I get to be retarded. Like, severely retarded. In a wheelchair and stuff. Guy #2: Sweeeeeet. THREE THINGS I AM SICK OF (SOME WORK-RELATED, SOME NOT) 1. Quit writing me at my work e-mail and asking me to increase the font size in my outgoing messages. I'm not going to. Maybe if you weren't so OLD or didn't MASTURBATE SO MUCH you would be able to read my messages without difficulty. 2. Can we all just agree NOT TO ORDER THE YELLOW POST-IT NOTES? There are so many other colors available and yellow is the worst color ever, yellow makes me want to die, I think if you put me in an all yellow-room with yellow furniture and yellow flooring I would gnaw out a wrist artery within 72 hours, and come to think of it that might be an interesting psychological experiment and gain all you psych grad students publication credits and immediate post-dissertation offers of tenure. But too bad because I will never sign the informed-consent release. Ha ha. 3. People who diss the Humpty Dance. Best not try that shit when I am in the vicinity. Uh-UH. OUCH Do you want to attend Headache Now? Headache Now 2003! Register now! Even if it hurts! ---mimi smartypants intends to destroy all dogmatic verbal systems. back/forward |
