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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

2004-12-20 ... 10:38 a.m.


How could there have been absolutely nothing worth reading in the New Yorker's recent "Winter Fiction Issue"?

How can I have next to no money left when there is still over a week until payday? Even though I had a Holiday Budget Strategy and everything? What the hell happened?

How can my ten-year-old cousin be such a great kid? At Extended Family Holiday Party this weekend, he did puzzles with Nora, helped her get over her fear of the host's big dog, sat her on his lap and shared his ice cream (after asking me, "Can she have this?"), and once, when she toddled into the room where some of the older kids were watching a movie, immediately came to find me with Nora by the hand and said, "I don't think she should be in there while they watch. It's PG-13 and she's not even two." Of course here's me, draining my beer and saying, "You're absolutely right, I will keep a better eye on her from now on." On the one hand, the kid is too sweet for words; on the other, it's hard not to feel slightly chagrined when a fifth-grader gently chides your parenting skills.

How can the Irish bartender at the Long Room be such an asshole and still keep his job? Friday night, I approach the bar with two empties, cash in hand,* and say, "Can I get two more?" He says, "I don't know, can you?" and he is lucky that I did not crawl over the bar right then and shove bars of Irish Spring and fistfuls of Lucky Charms right down his stupid, brogue-producing throat. After I gave him the Look of Death, he tried to cover by saying, "Yes, you MAY have two more, out of the goodness of my heart," to which I replied "oh, so you won’t be needing this then" and put my money back in my pocket, and then he had nothing whatsoever to say. I know it is not wise to alienate the bartender but JESUS, HE STARTED IT and you know that the Irish are already on thin ice with me, see here.

*And yes, beer was figured into the Holiday Budget Strategy. And still things are all screwed up. Hmmm.

How is it that I can both be insanely excited about the prospect of my TWO WEEKS OFF and also worried to the point of distraction that a bunch of my work will have to be done by someone other than me? And I am not even worried that the back-up person will screw it up or anything, I am just full of the free-floating worry. Plus, I have Disaster Brain. I am never dizzy from lack of food, I have a brain tumor; LT is never late because of traffic, he's trapped in the upside-down burning car; and I can never go on a perfectly legitimate and well-earned vacation because I will somehow be fired for doing so.

How did I manage to lose three pounds in the past month even though I obsessively worked my way through a five-pound bag of pistachios that I kept squirreled away in my bottom desk drawer? One would think that the massive salt intake alone would bloat me up like a big bloated thing, but apparently not.

Why did Nora have to go and learn about Blue's Clues? So far, her allegiance to Maisy remains firm, and I only record the clues of Blue as a sort of emergency back-up television show. When we watch, we watch the episodes on Noggin, which feature STEVE. Then I go to take a peek at the Blue's Clues website, and it keeps talking about JOE. WHO THE HELL IS JOE? I DON'T KNOW FROM JOE. I do some research and find out that Joe replaced Steve over two years ago, which means that my TiVo is picking up some mighty old reruns. And I hope that continues. Because now I am all used to Steve. I would probably freak if I saw Joe. GET OUT OF HERE YOU ARE NOT STEVE!

Here's a weird thing about me and kids and television. Whenever I read weblogs or diaries or messageboards about the subject, someone always mentions putting in a video or turning on Noggin to "get things done." By which they mean that thirty minutes of toddler being all entranced and out of the way can be the key to getting dinner started, returning a phone call, etc. I understand this and I don't judge it, but it does not work in my universe because in my head Nora is way too little to watch television by herself. Not that she would get herself into trouble if left alone---believe me, when she is watching Maisy she is WATCHING MAISY. But it just seems so lonely to leave her in there with the television, so I always end up sitting with her under a blanket, and we comment on the Maisy action and talk back to the screen. Sort of like Mystery Science Theater, if Mike and all the robots had had a vocabulary-reducing cerebral accident and squealed with delight over "RABBITS! HOP, HOP, HOP!" instead of making clever pop-culture references.

HOP HOP HOP! I am tired, and frankly I cannot wait for Christmas to be over. How is that for holiday cheer? I will try to smile, and enjoy the food and the family and the fun, and I will not poke my eyes out with a candy cane. I promise.

---mimi smartypants is almost but not entirely unlike tea.


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