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In honor of Halloween, I thought I’d share a little bit of my Halloween history. For your viewing pleasure, a look back at me and Dani…because it’s just too funny!

Here we are as a witch and a…..I don’t know if we ever figured out exactly what Dani was. A weird, Halloween thing. Actually, a few years later we both went as a weird Halloween thing. But she pioneered it this year.

As usual, all you can see in this picture is my huge mouth and non-existent eyes. And no, the hair is not real. Although after ringing the doorbell at one house some woman started stroking my head and asking if the hair was mine!

Here we are as Dionne and Amber from Clueless. This photo was taken exactly 10 years ago today. Don’t you just love the tan colored stockings? What you can’t see is the super trendy clear plastic platform Jellies we were wearing. What I remember most vividly from that night was stepping into a giant puddle and having wet and steamy plastic Jellies for the rest of the night. Ewww.

Haha, oh man. Miss you Dani!

Happy Halloween!

Last month I wrote about my adventure on the sailboat. This included a good half hour of sea sickness that was just awful.

It’s not just boats that make me queasy. Cars do it to. If I’m in the passenger seat, there is a good chance I’ll be nauseous by the end of the trip.

And today I learned of another place that makes me feel dizzy and nauseous and gross.

The planetarium.

“What? The planetarium? You’re weird.”

I know! But apparently it’s true. While I sat there trying to enjoy Orion’s Belt and the Big Dipper and the North Star all I could think was “where’s the barf bag?”

Totally uncool, people. And I was staring at the horizon! (Well, the horizon being where the dome meets the wall, but it’s supposed to represent the horizon….) Isn’t that supposed to help?

I mean, honestly. This is just too ridiculous to be justified in any way.

Hi, I’m Molly. Planetariums make me sick.

Women don’t have it easy. When it comes to the bathroom, that is. Here’s the thing. We were not born with an extra appendage. In all other life situations I am quite happy to be sporting a va-jing and not walking around with something wagging between my legs.

But when it comes to the bathroom, particularly a public bathroom, well, guys just have it made.

All the ladies reading are quite familiar with the process. You go into the public bathroom and assess the situation. You feel slightly deflated because even if the seat looks clean, there is no way you’re going to sit on it. So you squat. Which is why we all have super-strong thighs. Because we have no choice.

Now let’s get to the real issue at hand. The work bathroom. This is one of the bathrooms that I don’t feel all that uncomfortable letting go of the bathroom issues and actually sitting. Because it’s not really a public bathroom. There’s maximum 10 people who use it and seven of them are women. It gets cleaned every day. It’s pretty much safe.


I just went in there and staring up at me, a dark gash against the stark white porcelain, was a hair. One loan hair

“AH!” I thought. “Ahhhhh!!!!”

Because a hair? In the bathroom? On the toilet? Ew, ew, ew, ew.

As I balled up the TP to swipe it into the bowl I tried to tell myself whatever I could to make myself feel better about The Hair.

“It’s from someone’s head/arm/leg….nose! It’s got to be.”

But you know it wasn’t from someone’s head/arm/leg or nose. And I know it too.


There are some things in my house that when purchased, seemed like a really good idea. However, the more I think about it, I realize that these things are just….there.

For example:

Potato Masher- I probably make mashed potatoes twice a year. Maybe three times. And the masher? Awkward shape. Takes up room in the drawer. Makes me irritated when drawer won’t close.

Candle Centerpiece for Dining Room Table – looks really pretty. Has been lit once. To see how it would look. Candles collect dust. Makes Molly mad.

Extra Large Space Saver Bag – great in theory, but the bag is HUGE. I don’t have enough stuff to put in it to suck out all the air with the vacuum and store it under the bed. (I’ve done this with three or four Large bags…very fun

Super On Sale 20 Rolls of Our Favorite Toilet Paper – great money wise, not so great when the bathroom cabinet is thisbig and has to store everything else. I must say, I’m pretty proud of my TP stacking skills.

Ottoman- I still have hopes for this one. It’s cute. It’s functional. It matches the living room color scheme perfectly. It gets used as a giant coaster. Which. Drives. Me. Crazy.

Giant Mop – I (thankfully) cannot take credit for this one. When Michael was away for a month for work (bad, bad, evil away. Stupid work.) his grandmother stopped by one day unannounced. I hadn’t vacuumed yet and she not-so-subtly told me that I needed to do something about the dog hair. (Hi, 120 lb black dog that blows his coat in the summer? You try keeping up with all the hair. It will kill you.) Her solution? A giant mop. No, not a Swisher that picks up dirt and hair and dust with static electricity. A mop. As in…mop. Yeah, the kind you put in a bucket. With water. And soap. How this was supposed to pick up dog hair, I did not know. But I tried it (dry) and I tried it (wet) and know what? It doesn’t work. It’s just a big ol’ mop. That now resides in the hall closet just being a mop. Mopping around. Mop, mop, mop.

Also, for some reason, in the short time we’ve lived together we’ve somehow collected enough blankets and comforters to swaddle 3 million babies. (OK, maybe just 2 million.) There are only two of us sleeping there. And we use one giant, deliciously fluffy and warm down comforter. The guest room also has its own comforter. But the other 999,998 blankets…they’ve taken residence in the guest room. Where they will continue to live until I can figure out what to do with them.

The Extra Large Space Saver Bag, you say? Now, I’ve thought of that. But even the XL can only hold a few…and it’s not really worth it to me.

Actually, I wonder if it could hold shoes…..

Elementary schools in Wyoming, Washington and Massachusetts have banned tag from recess. According to one principal, recess is “a time when accidents can happen.”

Tag? Really? What about gym class? Isn’t that “a time when accidents can happen”? I remember being hit with one or two dodge balls. My sister broke her arm running relays on wet grass, per the teacher’s instructions. How many kids walk away with a black eye from softball? So based on this logic, shouldn’t gym be banned too? And what about riding bikes? Or jumping rope? Or climbing the monkey bars? Because, people, these are times when accidents can happen!

I just don’t understand why kids have to be so sheltered these days. We were all exposed to the same stuff. We’re basically all OK. And those who aren’t OK, can you really blame it on tag?

I used to work at a daycare. We’d play our games and sing our songs, but when it came to singing “There Was An Old Lady Who Swallowed A Fly,” well, forget it.

You know the words: “There was an old lady who swallowed a fly/I don’t know why she swallowed a fly/perhaps she’ll die…..there was a old lady who swallowed a horse. She died, of course!”

Well, we were instructed to change to words. To “perhaps she’ll cry.” Because oh no, don’t let children hear the word “die”. No, no. They’ll have nightmares. They’ll be scarred for life!

But let me just tell you, it’s really a life lesson. Because if you swallowed a horse to catch the dog to catch the cat to catch the bird to catch the spider…the wriggled and wriggled and jiggled inside her….to catch the fly. Well kiddos, you’d probably die. That’s what happens when you swallow foreign objects.

And what about Looney Tunes? Remember the great Saturday morning cartoons that we watched and our parents watched? Oh no. Not now. Too violent. I mean, kids might actually drop anvils on their friend’s heads. And dropping anvils on people is wrong.

But Bratz, where cartoon tweens walk around in skanky outfits and babies are wearing high heels and makeup?

Well, that’s OK. As long as they’re not playing tag.

When I was little I used walk around our property collecting the long, brown pine needles that fell off the trees. I would wrap them in a leaf and tie them with a long piece of grass. Then I’d go in the back yard and scatter them, pretending I was feeding chickens.

That’s a great childhood memory for me. As soon as I smell that warm pine scent I’m transported to that time.

So imagine how happy I was to pull into the parking lot at work the other day and see those very needles all over the ground. I opened my door and took a deep breath, inhaling that yummy smell.

But imagine my disappointment/frustration/annoyance when I came back to my car at 5 p.m. only to find that it was the ONLY ONE in the lot completely covered in pine needles. Completely. As in, my car was now brown. And spiky. And….needle-y.

And it had just rained. So those suckers weren’t going anywhere.

I cleared off my windshield as best I could and started the ride home. But the roads were wet so I had to intermittently use my wipers. And one lone needle was stuck on the driver side wiper.

Swish. Big wet line left from needle.

Swish. Big wet line left from needle getting bigger.

Swish. Big wet line left from needle IN MY WAY.

It held on the whole way home until I pulled it off in the driveway. Maybe it’s life’s way of telling me I’m grown up. As a child I only saw the good things in life. Now some of those good things can be a really big pain in the butt.

I miss feeding those imaginary chickens.

The conversation I had with my sister last night was classic Us. It went something like this….

Sister: I really hate those commercials for the pads with the wipe attached.

Me: Yeah, they’re kind of gross, but I guess it’s a good idea.

S: I guess, but they’re all, “Hi, I’m dirty. I need a wipe.”

M: Ha. Ew.

S: At least the Summer’s Eve commercials are more vague. They’re more “Feel Fresh!” You don’t know, they could be talking about your feet.

This was followed by a very serious discussion on ice cream.

S: I don’t like mint chocolate chip ice cream. But I feel like I should. It’s kind of the way I feel about pickles and Shakespeare.

M: ——-

S: Every time I get a pickle with a sandwich I take a bite hoping hoping I will like it. But I don’t. So I take another bite because I think that if I keep eating it I will eventually like it. But I don’t really like that bite either. So I finish the pickle because I must like it if I eat the whole thing. But in the end, I still don’t like it.

M: But pickles are a food and a drink in one!

S: That is so disgusting.

M: It’s a quote from Friends.

S: Of course it is.

M: And Shakespeare?

S: Oh, I just don’t like Shakespeare

M: Right…..

Seriously, could we be any more related? (Catch the Chandler reference? Oh, yeah.)

I’m not feeling especially creative today, but instead of not posting at all, here you go:

It has come to my attention that there are some things I’m just never going to be able to do. This list includes:

– balancing my checkbook, thanks to the wonderful world of debit cards

– washing the dishes right after dinner

– putting my bag anywhere but the kitchen counter

– folding a fitted sheet (I just CAN’T DO IT. Michael does it perfectly. How??)

– not watching romantic comedies with sappy endings

– washing my car

– following politics, even though I know I should

There are, however, some things I’m pretty good at. For example:

– walking in heels

– folding towels (that’s right, my towels look fabulous)

– memorizing quotes from Friends

– updating my blog (you’re welcome)

– recapping exactly what happened on Gilmore Girls

I know. The important things in life.


Because my mother thinks I sound vapid, I must clarify. I do follow my banking, just online. I check my bank statement. I know how much money I have and where it’s going. Also, I know what’s going on in the world. I watch the news, I read the paper. I know about who I vote for and why. I just don’t find politics all that interesting. OK?

Well, the weekend was fantastic. The food was delicious (mmmm lobster), the drinks were wonderful (ahhhh sangria), and the company was better than I could have asked for. But what I realized is that I’m not 21 anymore. Apparently 23 is old because it’s Monday morning and I already need a nap! A non-stop weekend is so much fun, but it really takes a toll on you.

Anyway, some highlights:

MoElle was reunited. My face hurt all weekend from laughing.

Ashley was there! And she lives in my town! So there will be more Ashley! Yay

A non-highlight? How about our dinner Saturday night. 45 minutes to get our meals. And our waitress? The one with pigtail braids and and knee high tights? She was SITTING IN THE KITCHEN DOING NOTHING. Hi, I could see you, Pipi. And when we finally asked the manager about it? “Well, the grill is backed up.”

Oh. The grill. Is backed up. OK?

The rest of Saturday was great. Dancing, dancing, dancing! But people, I have to tell you, that


Quite possibly the scariest thing I have ever seen. That’s right, she has climbed him like a ladder. He is trying not to fall over. I wish I could sure you how she was molesting the floor (numerous times during the night) and other patrons of the bar, but this is not that kind of website

And now some rules for all the men that frequent these establishments:

1. We do not want your business all up in our business. Your crotch is not welcome near our fronts, our backs or our sides. In fact, your crotch in not welcome in a 10-foot radius around us.

2. When you enter said radius with said crotch and attempt to bump and grind on my friend, I will grab her and start dancing with her elsewhere. This is not an invitation for you to join. This is especially not an invitation for you to aim your crotch at me. WE DO NOT LIKE YOUR CROTCH.

3. Pinching my butt when I am taking a picture is not OK. I do not know you. I do not want to know you. My butt is not for you to pinch. You are banished to outside the radius as well.

Learn these rules and a woman might actually dance with you!

So all in all, a great weekend. Too much money was spent, not enough sleep was had, and it was fantastic.

I can’t wait to do it again.

Today is a fabulous day because it marks the start of what is going to be a fabulous weekend! It’s homecoming at the ol’ alma matter. I have no intention of going to the game, but what a great excuse for a gathering of the alumni and current ladies of Zeta Epsilon Tau Alpha! I am so freaking excited.

But most of all….the best part? ELLE IS COMING TODAY!!!! (That’s right, as in one-half of the infamous MoElle.)We’ve been talking about it all week. We’re slightly obsessed with each other.

And the other good part? The Brian is coming into town! Two of my favorite people in one weekend? This is just too good to be true.

See you Monday!

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