Oh! Baby

If I have one more godforsaken dream about having had a baby (a boy,
if you must know), I might lose my mind (what's left of it)! I don't
know what's with the baby-mania, but it's severely distressing my
normally peaceful and blissful slumbers.

It's always the same thing:

1. Molly goes to sleep
2. Molly sees odd looking baby boy in pram
3. Molly tries to walk away from said pram, but it follows her... magically
4. Molly tries to pawn him off on friends
5. Friends laugh at Molly and tell her that having a kid is "no biggie"
6. Molly gets mad at idiotic friends and says mean, hateful things
(like "bugger off, fuckwit!")
7. Molly runs into diet coke factory (what can I say... it is always
on my mind) and cries
8. Molly's mom comes in and tells her that she doesn't like her new bangs ("Molly-- your hair is all you have!!!")
9. David Foley (yes, you) and mom walk by and mention that
baby-raising ain't no thang.
10. Molly cries some more

And then, usually, after about 8 hours of this... I wake up, with
dried tears on my cheeks (no joke)... and wait about an hour for the
uncomfortable feeling that I'm forgetting something to go away. It's
a rough cycle.

What happened to those nights of lusty dreams... or at the very least-
when I achieve world domination?

sigh.

New Week

New Week.
New Template.
New Molly.

Operation "Cheer Up Charlie" is now in full effect. I've decided that the only way I can get myself into a job I could potentially love in a city that I can potentially love is to love, love, LOVE everything I do from here on out.

I know my blog entries are way more interesting when they are angsty and bitchy. I feel quite confident that I have the bitchy niche all squared away. But now is time for something different (I type this now, but give me a week or two and the asshole will be back). I hope.

Anyway... step one: change blog template. I feel like it now reflects something a bit more cheerful and totally gives off the "I'm as cool as Fiona Apple, minus the complex and plus a whole lotta happy"... does it not?

Please see this previous entry for more information.

So, enjoy y'all. I know I will.

I'm Inspired!

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

-- Elizabeth Bishop

It's snowing in Baltimore...

... rather, it snowed in Baltimore. On Sunday. But there were 15 inches at my house (which is HUGE for us) and so I wanted to share some lurvly pictures with all.

Let us begin with Ebbitt dressing for the occasion. See how he smiles, turns the head, and poses? Extends his neck because he knows he has a short one? Hides his arse because he knows it's a tad too bootylicious? Stares the camera in the eyes because he knows that his profile is NOT his best shot? Yeah... He's obsessed with America's Next Top Model- and it shows... that dog has Tivo'd every damn VH1 re-run. He's a mess.

Moving on... Ebbitt and Bailey, my mom's "Yorkachon"-- Bichon Frise & Yorkshire Terrier Mix, loved the snow... but had little idea what to do with it all.

When all else fails... pose. So that is what my babies did. In their new, handmade sweaters.

Obviously, this turned into a fashion editorial on my dogs rather than "Snow in Baltimore" as was originally intended... but c'est la vie.

I'm bored, unemployed, and obsessed with my dogs. I'm more than 1/2 way to a solitary life of a singleton with copoius canines to keep me company. Thank GOD I'm allergic to the devil's pet (read: CATS) because that's taking the cliche one step too far.

The Expensive Lesbian

Alright, so the idea isn't totally original, as in, I did not invent it, but hear me out. I AM THE ORIGINAL EXPENSIVE LESBIAN. To get some historical context of that which I mean, please read the passage below:

"Going home for the holidays in college is simultaneously a curse and a blessing. You see, in college you begin to learn that your parents are mostly right about everything they have ever told you. You no longer hate them with the fervor you did in high school. Which is fine, except that now you are wrong more often that ever before. Also, going home for the holidays generally involves several unpleasant conversations about money (you spend too much of it) and boyfriends (you don't have one). Which then leads your parents to believe that you are an expensive lesbian." ~ "Chloe does Yale" by Natalie Krinsky (thanks Pizz for this free-bee book!)

Now, I never promised to only ready upper-brow literature. A girl has to let loose and enjoy life sometimes, you know? Anyway... what an interesting idea. An expensive lesbian. This is me.

Due to a long and consistent distrust of men and distaste for vulnerability, I haven't dated anyone in, oh... 3 years (give or take some days, weeks and/or months and depending on what constitutes "dating") ?!??!?!?!? No wonder my parents are skeptical as to my preferences. And, thanks to Liefeld and Krema, those pictures from ONE NIGHT of my senior year didn't help. And, given my love of quitting jobs without backups in the hopper, or choosing jobs that have ending dates, I have been known to need to occasional injection of cash flow from my parents to pay health insurance. So, yeah, I'm one hell of an expensive lesbian.

So now, when people ask me, "Hey! Have a job yet? Have a boyfriend? Are you looking?"-- I can say, with confidence and gusto: "Naw man, I'm just the original expensive lesbian. That takes up, well, the majority of my time."

How to say "I love you" in 25 languages

English
I Love You

Spanish
Te Amo

French
Je T'aime

German
lch Liebe Dich

Japanese
Ai Shite Imasu

Thai
Phom rak khun

Italian
Ti amo

Chinese
Wo Ai Ni

Swedish
Jag Alskar


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Nice Ass , Get in the truck