Mimi Pond

The C Word

I was walking our dog Mabel around the block this morning about 6:45 when I saw our neighbor in the distance. For the sake of anonymity I will simply call him what we always call him: The Wedge. He's the harmless crackpot that every neighborhood has. He lives in his childhood home, which is falling down around his ears. I have posted a link to the short film my son made about him, so you'll have a better idea, and also because it's a beautiful little movie. The Wedge is in his sixties, I think, and always looks as though he has been sleeping underneath his truck, whose cabin and bed are always filled with junk. His hair is long and stringy. He has a ratty beard, and he's missing numerous teeth, and his clothes are dirty and full of holes. The word around the 'hood is he used to be an engineer, but he has narcolepsy and that he takes some kind of uppers to keep from falling asleep. So the end result is that he wants to talk to whoever walks by, about anything, and he won't stop talking, so you just have to keep walking. And he stammers. So this morning he saw Mabel and me. Mabel, usually extremely friendly to EVERYONE, sniffed him and backed off as though he was not to be trusted. He is so funky even my dog thinks he stinks. The Wedge laughed and said, "Oh, s-she sm-sm-smells me! I must smell like...I must smell like...the C word!" I said, "What?" The Wedge said, "We-well, you-you know, the C WORD! The word that-that-that  m-m-must not be named!" 

My mind was racing. OH MY GOD! I thought. Does he mean CUNT? Has he really gone around the bend? And why would he smell like CUNT? And why is he doing this to me? I started walking more quickly. "You've lost me," I said. The Wedge of course persisted. "The C word! It's like-it's like-it's like, the Harry Potter b-b-book. You know, the villain, whose name w-w-we dare not s-s-s-peak!"  

Now I was hightailing it. But he was keeping up. Eew, eew, and double eew! "I don't know..." I said. He cheerfully soldiered on. "In-in-in-in other words...CAT!" 

"OH!" I said. "Ha! Ha! YES! CAT!"

Mabel and I ran home. Who's dirty now? 

The C Word

I was walking our dog Mabel around the block this morning about 6:45 when I saw our neighbor in the distance. For the sake of anonymity I will simply call him what we always call him: The Wedge. He's the harmless crackpot that every neighborhood has. He lives in his childhood home, which is falling down around his ears. I have posted a link to the short film my son made about him, so you'll have a better idea, and also because it's a beautiful little movie. The Wedge is in his sixties, I think, and always looks as though he has been sleeping underneath his truck, whose cabin and bed are always filled with junk. His hair is long and stringy. He has a ratty beard, and he's missing numerous teeth, and his clothes are dirty and full of holes. The word around the 'hood is he used to be an engineer, but he has narcolepsy and that he takes some kind of uppers to keep from falling asleep. So the end result is that he wants to talk to whoever walks by, about anything, and he won't stop talking, so you just have to keep walking. And he stammers. So this morning he saw Mabel and me. Mabel, usually extremely friendly to EVERYONE, sniffed him and backed off as though he was not to be trusted. He is so funky even my dog thinks he stinks. The Wedge laughed and said, "Oh, s-she sm-sm-smells me! I must smell like...I must smell like...the C word!" I said, "What?" The Wedge said, "We-well, you-you know, the C WORD! The word that-that-that  m-m-must not be named!" 

My mind was racing. OH MY GOD! I thought. Does he mean CUNT? Has he really gone around the bend? And why would he smell like CUNT? And why is he doing this to me? I started walking more quickly. "You've lost me," I said. The Wedge of course persisted. "The C word! It's like-it's like-it's like, the Harry Potter b-b-book. You know, the villain, whose name w-w-we dare not s-s-s-peak!"  

Now I was hightailing it. But he was keeping up. Eew, eew, and double eew! "I don't know..." I said. He cheerfully soldiered on. "In-in-in-in other words...CAT!" 

"OH!" I said. "Ha! Ha! YES! CAT!"

Mabel and I ran home. Who's dirty now? 

Over Easy continued!

Finally I have gotten it together to post 15 more pages of my graphic novel-in-progress, . Just scroll down to the bottom and click on Over Easy.

New York is where I want to stay...

We- that is to say, Wayne, Lulu, Woodrow and I, went to New York on May 24 to get ready for Wayneapalooza. Wayne is my husband, Wayne White, and we were preparing for the festive three nights of solid-back-to-back parties being held in his honor to celebrate the publication of his book, "Maybe Now I'll Get the Respect I So Richly Deserve," beautifully edited and designed by the designer Todd Oldham, and a show of his latest paintings at the Mireille Mosler Gallery on the Upper East Side, and a book signing at the big Book Expo at the Javits Center. This is a picture of my beautiful daughter Lulu and I , which even though I look sort of awful in, she's so glamorous in a dress I bought in 1988! 

And here we all are  at the Ammo Books Booth at the Book Expo. I have to thank the lovely and talented Karen Finlay for taking these beautiful pictures of us. Karen, where were you when that professional photographer took pictures of my entire family and made us all look dead?

After we got home, Lulu had a serious case of let-down. How could a bunch of pimple-faced cretins she went to school with compare to serious hobnobbing in Tribeca with the likes of Amy Sedaris, who I must say is just about the greatest celebrity you'll ever want to hang out with! I don't have pictures of us with Amy because I knew it would not be COOL. So you will just have to take my word for it. Anyway, Lulu was suffering as only an almost 14-year old genius could. As is my wont, I decided the only thing that could cheer her up was CARAMELS. I decided to try my hand at making them, and after the rapturous first batch, Wayne came up with the perfect name for them: SUGAR TITS. Also, yes, to answer your question, it worked. In fact, the whole family got pretty goddamn jolly.  I had a brainstorm and  realized we had a lot of people to thank for bringing the whole shebang together, so I made a QUADRUPLE BATCH OF SUGAR TITS! Here they are, in the process of being made:

And then wrapped:

 I went to Smart and Final for some inspiration. I love Smart and Final. It's like a cross between a restaurant supply and a mini-Costco. (Though I do think it's a better name for a chain of discount funeral parlors.) I didn't find the right boxes there, but they did have squares of waxed paper for putting in between hamburgers. The "Patty Pak"!  They were perfect for twisting up caramels with! My friend Phranc, the lesbian folksinger and cardboard cobbler, with whom I have made peppermint patties in the past, steered me to the Container Store, which turns out to be an anal-retentive's dream come true. They had all kinds of little candy boxes and cellophane candy bags. Here's the final package:

 And if you got left off the list, I apologize. My Sugar Tits are exhausted.

Off to the Races!

Recently, on Facebook, I became friends with genius animator Sally Cruikshank. Check out her blog while you're at her site. It's good! I am pretty certain I met her briefly, back in those crazy 70's, in San Francisco, but she didn't recall. It didn't matter. We decided to meet at Santa Anita racetrack, which Sally describes as being "like an oceanliner." Which was perfect. It is just an enormous art deco dreadnought of horse racing, and surprisingly well-kept, in freshly painted shades of green and pink. One of the best things about Santa Anita is that while you're in the stands, a well-positioned, well-landscaped berm completely obliterates the squalor of latter-day Arcadia. It's the kind of place that makes you want to return in a well-tailored suit, pumps, hat, gloves, and a clutch bag. Maybe next year. The season is over at SA now, and has moved on to Hollywood Park, which, confusingly enough, is in Inglewood. Sally says it is a lot seedier there. That could make for better sketching possibilities!

Okay, enough about Santa Anita. More about Sally, whose character Anita starred in her brilliant cartoon "Quasi at the Quackadero." Sally and I hit it off like we were continuing a conversation we probably started 30 years ago. We gossiped about all the SF underground cartoonists we have known, like Robert and Aline Crumb, Spain, and our brilliant and lovely friend Bob Armstrong, whom I would link except the link to his site seems to be broken. We gabbed about the effect of the 1970's on our lives, hitting my favorite nerve, Patty Hearst, which for me is a rich, rich vein. We really bonded on the subject of being alienated cartoonist mothers. Hey, I could do a whole website called just that: ALIENATED CARTOONIST MOTHER. I could tell Sally and I were destined to be great friends because all I had to do was to nudge her when the really funny-looking family walked by and she burst out laughing. The other completely fantastic thing about the track was that, being Friday, it was free admission, with $1 hot dogs and $1 beers. I was there, supposedly, to talk to a jockey for an LA Times cartoon idea, but we got sidetracked with everything we had to tell each other.  I bet on my favorite jockey, Kayla Stra, a beautiful Australian whom I met on my previous trip to the track, but Sally was the one picking the winners, which led to her buying us another couple of beers. Since I like to post pictures of myself with the very coolest people I have met, here's a series of me trying to get it right. Can you tell we were  having fun?

My cartoon about Trader Joe's parking lots!

Here's my latest from the LA Times, a cartoon about Trader Joe's - and long overdue! 

My Genius Son, plus more Xmas...

Woodrow got some new art supplies for Xmas and whipped these three beautiful drawings out in the last 2 days:

I don't know why this picture is sideways. But also I wanted you to see my collection of all things SANTA:I like the way the tallest Santa's expression suggests he's getting a blowjob. This collection, along with more, like this...culled from years of thrift store shopping, have restored my affection for Christmas, which went out the window when I became an adult. And after I had kids I resented it even more because it just felt like an enormous chore for me with no rewards. Just a huge obligation and tasks for me to undertake for the sake of my children. I hated the commercialism and shopping was no fun- you just went to ToysRus and loaded up your cart with whatever crap your kids were convinced they needed that year. (Although I must say that the look on 3-yr. old Lulu's face when she saw her Barbie Vanity set was priceless.) And I was also obliged to cook big meals, not to mention clean, for my judgemental mother who would take note of how I did everything. All this on top of taking care of two small children. It was a giant drag. Wayne and I didn't even exchange gifts. So there was literally NOTHING IN IT FOR ME! Then I started finding cool old xmas decor in thrift stores. I guess it reminded me of holidays of my childhood, because as soon as I started bringing these things home and decorating the house with them, I felt like I could shut out the screeching throbbing headache of the present day. I finally felt like I could make the holiday my own. Then we started to have parties, and even better, people would come over and actually ADMIRE my collections and enjoy my delicious food. We didn't have a party this year, but what I liked the most about the whole deal was that, given our new puppy, and the fact that our kids are old enough to understand, the fact that we couldn't spend much money at all actually made the whole thing better. More low-key and relaxed. No giant expectations were crushed. We just enjoyed what we got and had a good time. I was dreading the whole thing because I have become terrified of spending any money at all, but once Christmas Day was over, I was glad it was pared-down. Hooray for the New Depression! 

One gift I especially enjoyed getting was a graphic novel by David Heatley, called My Brain Is Hanging Upside Down. I am slowly discovering some new graphic novels that I actually enjoy. Woodrow, my son, just checked another one out from the library that I am reading now, called, Pyongyang- A Journey to North Korea. It's the story of a Canadian animator's experience working in North Korea. I'll let know know what I think when I finish it. Right now I'm looking at a sleeping puppy dog. Sigh.

CHRISTMAS PUPPY!

We thought long and hard about getting a dog. We finally decided the kids were old enough, and since we couldn't afford a lot of Christmas presents, we thought a new dog would hide a multitude of sins.  After much debate and after falling into the dark hole on the internet that is Petfinder.com, we found out some friends had a 9-week old purebred chocolate Lab puppy ready to go! Since Labs are Wayne's absolute favorite dog in the world, it seemed like the right choice. Mabel is a very calm, sweet dog who loves people. She's teething right now, so she has already taken a few playful chunks out of my face. But she is very smart. She already knows that gate in our back yard that leads to our friend Maryedith's house leads to MILKBONES! Here are some pictures of her.

Tightwad Rantfest

This is my latest for the LA Times, a subject dear to my heart. It was very gratifying to be able to express myself thusly, and I think I hit a nerve. A lot of folks seemed to enjoy it!

Trembling with excitement!

Yes, it's true, readers. Yours truly got to meet internet singing sensation Leslie Hall! She performed today at Felt Club at the Shrine Auditorium Expo. Felt Club is this giant hipster crafting event attracting thousands of hipsters who all seem to dress as though they are each hosting their own kiddie tv show. In their minds. But Leslie Hall, she is spectacular! A regular female Elvis. A female Elvis who uses a beadazzler in her spare time! Needless to say, I am hoping that this turns into a cartoon for the LA Times.