mimi smartypants
Seriously, though: what's with the penguins?

contra diction


And everything is normal. Yay, no massive bleeding intestinal tumors; boo, I still have crappy blood and no one knows why. It is up to the internist now to probe further (please no: endoscopy + colonoscopy was PLENTY OF PROBING)* or prescribe me a steak a day or whatever. This had better not be anything serious because I really do not wish to be a medical journal case report or a Lifetime Movie of the Week. Would much rather remain a dull, regular-folk, blogging-for-free-like-it’s-1999, reasonably healthy, relatively sane individual. Thanks.

*Not that I really remember any of it. I have a vague recollection of being unhappy with something in my mouth (frat party joke goes here), and I do have a bit of a sore throat like something poked me, but beyond that it’s all blank. Mercifully blank, in the case of the colonoscopy portion, I am sure. Apparently I hummed a lot in the car on the way home, then went upstairs to bed. LT woke me up an hour later for a grilled cheese sandwich and then I went back to bed. I was lucid by the time Nora came home from karate, and then we ordered pizza** and watched the Bulls suck. In between quarters I worked frantically on a work project that is so FUCKING ANNOYING I DON’T EVEN WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT. A girl gets a camera shoved up her bum and she can’t even take a proper day off, because OMG MEDICAL PUBLISHING WORLD FALLING APART EVERYBODY DO ALL THE WORK RIGHT NOW. I guess I did end up talking about it. Fuck.

**Does anyone else find it hilarious that I whined and moaned about all the crap I was “allowed” to eat during bowel prep, and how it was light-years from my normal healthy-ish diet etc, and then I come home from the hospital and have grilled cheese and pizza? I guess the melty floppy anesthesia made me want melty floppy food. I am back to my usual oatmeal-almond milk breakfasts, quinoa-bean lunches, and wine-fueled dinners now.

I am supposed to keep getting my blood suctioned out of me at regular intervals, and if said blood continues to be thin and wan they are threatening me with a “capsule endoscopy,” wherein one swallows a magical robot camera that goes on a fantastic voyage through your intestines and blah blah blah. DO NOT WANT. However, I remember a Joan Didion essay where she talked about having the same test. That comforts me somewhat. I shall tell my doctors: don’t give me anything that a National Book Award winner hasn’t had.


  1. Witty felt-and-velvet creation
  2. Today’s radical brides
  3. Imaginary jabots
  4. Those hamsters were sterile by the third generation
  5. Beige boring?
  6. This look is meant for dry land only
  7. Legless turkey
  8. Over a micro-sandwich
  9. Monkey and banana prints
  10. Black shiny bugs on orange tweed


  1. The May issue of Vogue
  2. The Presidential election (dear god, make it stop—I will vote for whoever is less likely to fuck over women and poor people and I will decide who that person is more or less on my own, no need to make like a foie gras farmer and force all this fatty propaganda down my throat)
  3. Space (sorry astronomer friends)
  4. Knitting (sorry yarn friends)
  5. Baseball (sorry boring friends)
  6. The theater (sorry dramatic friends)
  7. Traveling to Australia (if you give me a free ticket I will certainly go, but it’s not high on my list of places to see)
  8. Running a marathon (running is medium-fun but that is too far)
  9. Micromanaging my kid’s homework (some of the parents on the school email list are insane)
  10. This meeting (see below)


I am posting this from a work meeting, yes on a Saturday, and this only happens once a year but somehow it always sneaks up on me and makes me resentful. If you’ll turn to Tab M in your agenda book you will find your managing editor, slightly hungover, trying her damndest to give a damn.

—mimi smartypants really is trying (your patience).

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