Happy Halloween!

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!

Seeing Stars

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.

A Hairy Situation

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.

HOWEVER.

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.

Sigh.

Useless And In My Way, But Here To Stay

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.....

Sheltered

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.

Swish

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.

We're So Related

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.)

Realizations

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.

**UPDATE**

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?

Recap

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

THIS:



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.

Yaaay!!!

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.

For your viewing pleasure, a look at the hotness that is Moelle and The Brian (and Boobeski!!! Miss you Boobs!)


We were being soap opera stars. Couldn't you tell? Of course Elle is a skinny-minny now (even though I think she looks tres cute in that picture) and I no longer have all that hair.

Here we are looking all cute again the end of senior year. I love us.

See you Monday!

In the Mood for Some Randomness? Yeah, You Are.

*I am not a morning person. I have never been a morning person, nor will I ever be a morning person. If left to sleep in I usually wake up around 8:30 anyway. Not wasting any precious time, people.

I can do the whole get-up-for-work thing. Somehow I actually manage to get everything done in an hour and out the door on time. But today? Today was not a usual day. Today was Get To Work An Hour Early Day for an all-staff meeting. Yaaaay.

Let me just tell you, even showering and making my lunch the night before did not make getting up an hour earlier any easier. Because, did you know it's DARK at 6 a.m.? And cold? And I had to wake the dog up because even HE was still sleeping!! Um, yeah. The only time I see 6 a.m. is when I open my eyes and groggily look and the clock and think "mmm, one more hour," before zonking back out. One hour apparently makes a huge difference. And three cups of caffeinated tea? Only makes you pee. A lot. So now I'm tired. And a little cranky. So I will complain to you.

*My boss is taping a segment on the Montel Williams Show today. (About our place of business, not because he's someone's baby's daddy. Well, he is...but he's, like, married to her and stuff....)
Did you know that show was still on? It is. In all it's glory. Yesterday we spent some time deciding what he should wear to the taping. He decided on a shirt and tie and looked very presentable and camera-ready.

But if I were on the Montel Show? I'd totally go Lycra jumpsuit. Way more appropriate for when I confront the audience members.

"Shut yo mouth! You don't even know me! I look good! I look good! Look at you! You don't even know me!"

OK....so that's more Jenny Jones. Or Ricki Lake. (Ricki! Ricki! Ricki!) Where did all the good TV go?

* I had to pick a speaker up at the airport the other day. While I was waiting for him an old man in full lederhosen walked by me. Then he stopped. And turned around. And hit on me. An old man. In LEDERHOSEN.

Better watch out, Michael.

Sappy Sappy

For those of you who make fun of me for being a total love-nut, you might want to stop reading. I'm warning you. Total mush ahead.

Michael and I had a fight last night. Actually, I guess it's not really a fight because I was the one who was upset and he wasn't really saying anything. I don't know what you would call it. We'll just leave it at I was upset.

After he fell asleep, I lay awake for almost two hours thinking about the upset-ness and realized that whatever the problem is, we can get through it. I know I've said it before, but I'm one lucky girl. Yes, I love the big romantic stuff that comes along every now and then, but it's really all the little things that he does daily that let me know how much he loves me. For example:

He came home from the grocery store with dinner and some other things we needed. Then he pulled out one container of perfectly ripe raspberries. I love raspberries, but I hardly ever buy them because they are so expensive for such a little bit of fruit. But Michael bought them. For me. Because he knows I love them.

And he brought home a slice of key-lime pie because I mentioned I wanted some over two weeks ago. Yum.

He worries about my car. He remembers the oil changes, new wipers, etc. when I don't. He looked all over the place to find a replacement tail light. He's even spontaneously washed my car (probably because he's tired of looking at the dirt) numerous times.

He shovels the snow because I hate shoveling snow. He also scoops the dog poop, kills the bugs, and smells things in the fridge for me.

He lets me lie on the big couch while he sits on the love seat, even though he's 6'4" and bought the couch because it's big enough for him to lie on.

When he works early in the morning he always fixes the blanket and tucks the big, fluffy comforter around me and kisses me goodbye. Even though I'm half asleep, the gesture means a lot.

The list goes on. Sure, he puts glasses on the ottoman, leaving ring marks, leaves socks on the floor and dishes thisclose to but not in the dishwasher. (Preparation for a house full of boys, he tells me.)

But when he cleans my hair out of the drain or picks up the mail I left on the counter for the umpteenth time, I know he loves me.

And I love him, too.

I Said "Ketchup Only!"

Freaking Panera Bread.

Every time I go there they get my order wrong. Every. Single. Time. Someone please explain to me what is so difficult about NO ONIONS on a sandwich.

I know she heard me. I placed my order and she nodded while repeating "no onions." What the hell.

At least this time it was easily fixable. I begrudgingly pulled the onions off. I've been there before when they just botch the entire sandwich leaving no resemblance to what I originally ordered. And it's not even just one store. I've been to one in a different part of the state that does the exact same thing.

I'm not picky. I just like things the way I like things. The blog title is in reference to a late night Wendy's run in college where I very specifically ordered ketchup only on my cheeseburger. You can guess how that turned out.

I can't say I'll just stop going, because I won't. The food is good.

Is it too much to ask to have it be right?

Tick, Tick, Tick

This face makes me want to be a mom.

Manda, she's beautiful!

Choices, Choices

I hate getting food from a place where the menu is up on the wall and you have to wait in line to order. It's not the waiting in line that bothers me. It's the ordering.

Looming in front of you is this giant board with hundreds (OK, maybe tens) of choices. And if this isn't an establishment you frequent often, you're going to need a minute (or five) to figure out what you want.

The problem is that the staff never gives you that minute. As soon as you walk in it's all "Can I help you?" or "What can I get for you?" Never "Just give me a holler when you're ready!" or something to that effect.

So here you are, sweating bullets as five staff members stare at you, willing you to make a decision NOW and you're all flustered because you don't know what you want and WHY ARE YOU PRESSURING ME?!!!!

And THEN, when you've made up your mind and are ready to enjoy your delicious breakfast sandwich/doughnut/ice cream cone.....there's no one to help you.

Where did they go? Where are the five eager faces ready to help assemble the breakfast sandwich, bag the doughnut or scoop the ice cream? Gone. Busy with the family of six, cleaning the tables, refilling the napkin holders.

So you wait. And you look at the menu. And now maybe you want that ice cream instead because you really like chocolate chunks and this one promises lots of chunks and.....

"Can I help you?????"

And the cycle continues.

Pink!

It's October and that means it's Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

Go Pink to raise awareness and support the fighters and survivors and help raise money to find a cure.

Go here daily and click to fund free mammograms.

I love you Mom!

Atonement

I'm not Jewish (although someone would argue I am) but today is Yom Kippur. And I think everyone should have a day to atone their sins. So here we go

Michael, I'm sorry I took the last granola bar this morning. I knew you wanted it, but I really wanted it. So I grabbed it before you went to the cabinet.

Old Friend, I'm sorry I've been ignoring your phone calls lately. It's just that you've been so negative lately and you get bitchy when you hear I'm happy.

Mom, I'm sorry I don't come home more. I really love to be home, but I hate the drive. And life gets in the way. I miss you.

Shay, I'm sorry I told you we found you in a field. And I'm sorry I talk to you like a parent sometimes. It's just that I love you so much and I worry about you.

People I make fun of in my blog, I'm sorry if I offend you. But you make for really good material.

Teenage girls at the movie theater, I'm sorry I went "New York" on you a few weeks ago. But you were cutting a long line of people. And if I have to stand behind old-guy-with-gross-gray-greasy-ponytail, you have to too.

Woman that I avoided calling back until the last possible minute because, really, I heard you the first time when you said, "Well, I'm a writer. This is important.," well, I'm really not too sorry about that.

Kodiak, I'm sorry I didn't take you out to pee the other morning. I thought Michael had before he left for work and I took your whining to be you were in an annoying mood. I'm sorry you didn't pee for over 12 hours. I felt like such a bad parent but you were a good boy and didn't pee in the house. Thanks for that.

Ladies of 38 BP, I'm sorry I don't call you as much as I should. I miss you all so much, I'm just bad with the phone.

Spiders on the living room wall, I'm sorry I vacuumed you up. I try to be kind to all nature, but well, you're spiders.

Boss man, I'm sorry I make fun of your taste in music. But hey, you make fun of me too. We're even.

Michael, I'm sorry I left the laundry in the dryer for three days and then got mad that you didn't take it out. You didn't know it was in there because I forgot to tell you. Actually, I don't think you even knew I was mad.

Ok. I feel better.

Shuffle

Put your iPod on shuffle. Write about the what the songs remind you of. (I've done this before, but it's cool to see what comes up.)

Everytime- Britney Spears: First of all, yeah, I know. Britney Spears. But for some reason I like this song. When I used to work at the beach we'd have the radio on 92.3 all day and would count how many times this song would come on during an 8-hour day. A lot. Like 12 times or something like that. Actually, it's a wonder I still like this song

Breathe-Telepopmusik: That car commercial where they're all dancing around robotic-like and that one girl has a cool hat. Mitsubishi? I can't remember. This song is a really good car song on a rainy day

Two Step (Live)- Dave Matthews Band: My favorite version of this song. Probably the first DMB song I ever loved and always will.

We Trying To Stay Alive-Wyclef Jean & Refugees: Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion! They do this stupid dance in the club and it always makes me laugh.

Push-Matchbox 20: My very fist concert ever. It was at the Poughkeepsie Civic Center and I wore a yellow, blue and white striped tank top. There were so many people and I remember at the end of the night I figured that half the sweat on me wasn't mine. Ew. I also caught the guitarist's pick until some big ugly girl grabbed it out of my hand. Abby jumped on her back and started yelling at her, but the pick got lost on the floor.

Perfect Blue Buildings-Counting Crows: When Michael and I first started talking we would send each other music we liked. I had always liked Counting Crows but usually skipped over this song for some reason. I really listened to it the night he sent it to me and loved it. Makes me think of him

Return to Innocence-Enigma: Remember the CD that was always for sale on TV? Pure Moods? They would play this in the background. And P.S. I think Michelle owns this!

*Big surprise: spell check doesn't recognize Poughkeepsie.