behold my pompous parole

um, yeah, so.......

Wed, 30 Jun 2004 19:56:40 GMT

i have been taking a non-fiction writing class this summer that has turned out to be the most demanding and creative class i've ever experienced. we free-write every morning for an hour and then discuss. today's assignment was to write an article for our favorite magazine. we have been reading joan didion, so she wanted us to write our own version of slouching towards...

here's what i wrote for "Interview:"

slouching towards slutdom

could their skirts be any shorter?

yesterday i was in the macy's shoe department and witnessed a display that should only be seen by old pervs in a back room peep show for fitty cents. a girl no more than sixteen was bending over tying, fastening, velcroing some shoe that could no doubt double as a weapon when warding off the aforementioned old pervs.

she was wearing a hot pink lamp shade mini that hardly covered her ass when she stood up, so you can imagine the cheek shot i got when she gracefully bent at the waist. underneath the flimsy skirt she, of course, was scantily clad in a thong indubitably scrawled with such scholarly pube-worthy phrases as, "insert here," or "i'm a princess," or "there's more in back."

talk about easy access, girls. oh! i know, how about along with the barely there skirts and educational thongs you get teeny tube tops that read, "i'm a skank" and "rape me."

good luck

she lives!

Tue, 11 May 2004 02:25:47 GMT

i would be remiss were i not to apologize for my 'on again-off again' (<-forgive me, i've been watching too much E!) presence in the live journal world, so here goes...imagine me with puppy dog eyes, quivering bottom lip, my left foot tracing the pattern of the carpet, hands so deep in the pockets the waist of my pants is pulled revealing the beer belly i have grown so very fond of (um, yeah), and me fumbling over these following fifteen words: i am so very sorry, can you find it in your heart(s) to forgive me?

(you so counted (with your fingers) to make sure there are actually fifteen words!)

and now for the excuses:

#1 i have fallen or crashed rather, into a building in love. (the first day of the fifth month is today!)

#2 i'm approaching my final year out of six in college, and trying my darndest to raise my gpa.

#3 the library has been unseasonably busy and does not allow for my usual internet 'play time.'

#4 did i mention i'm in love?

so, yeah, that's about it. oh! and tomorrow at 9:33 pm i will be turning twenty-three years old. that's a good age, oh how i love those odd numbers.

scouts honor: this journal will not be devoid of molly's musings for more than a week at a time.

heart,
m.

why does this kind of shit keep happening to me?!

Wed, 24 Mar 2004 23:30:43 GMT

if anyone recalls, the last time i had the great pleasure of waiting a couple hours for my car to get fixed i went shopping, well this happened again...with my new-to-me-supposed-to-be-more-reliable-than-molvo-number-two-subaru, subaru. (and it better freaking be now, i tell you what!)
so, i drop the little 'molbrew' off at the mechanic's and walk my happy ass down to the ghetto-style jc penny outlet store. mind you, if i had a choice to shop elsewhere i would have, alas, as far as the eyes can see: tire store, pawn shop, gun shop, tire store, pawn shop, gun shop, etc... the clientel there is a mix of delightful pregnant women who have already blessed this world with two+ screaming, unruly, this close to getting a shoe hurled at their heads twerps, a gaggle of mexican guys(hmmm?), and the old ladies that reeeeelly smell like old ladies. i have like two hours to kill, so i start grabbing random shit: floral prints, sweatshirts with kittens and butterflies on them, stirrup pants, and the like. i head to the dressing box and perform a quite entertaining molly montage in the mirror. i figured this wouldn't cause raised brows considering the 'person' next to me had been trying clothes on for a good hour all the while singing every song from "victor victoria" (great movie, by the way).
bear with me i have a point, i swear.
in the midst of sequins and spandex i come across three possibly purchasable items: a shirt, a skirt, and some jeans.
if i were cartoon molly there would be a thought bubble above my cocked head which would read: "gee, i do believe most my clothes are dirty, mostly, hmmm... [i weigh my options using my hands as scales] do laundry or buy new clothes? hmmm..."
SOLD!!! to the girl in the snazzy leopard print number!
i buy said items for the bargain price of $24.11 and go pick up my 'good-as-new' car.
so, i rush home and throw on the new duds, the jeans really do accentuate my ass. after two or three days of continuous wearage i begin to notice that my legs have turned this sickly shade of grey/blue and i immediately jump the conclusion that i have some weird skin disease like leprosy and fear that i'll be spending the rest of my days enduring electric shock therapy in burma, until my dear one calms me by pointing out that the new jeans have mostly bled all over my legs, mostly, because in my haste to wear them i neglected to wash them, touche, i say.
in an attempt to rid my legs of the seemingly permanent new tint, i shave them, what molly, no?! yes that's right, i do. the shaving cream turned a murky grey as it ran down my leg, almost puked, i did, especially when i cut myself and everything turned purple.
yeah, so, anyway, moral: when in doubt, laundry!

erin go braugh!

Wed, 17 Mar 2004 21:49:28 GMT

so... it's an irish drinking holiday that finally inspires my ass to update this shizznit, go figure.
did i miss the memo that informed everyone to disregard the 'wearing green on saint patrick's day' tradition?
to the west: a southern belle (who, by the way, is marrying her uncle) clad in yellow and blue (and no she did not argue that the two colors combined make green), while to the immediate south mrs. 'i laugh at everything even when it's totally inappropriate i.e. death, ok' is wearing a suit that may or may not have animals humping, and to the south of her is fraggle kris who claims that the sky blue ensemble covering her pale body was made in ireland so the pinching cannot ensue. like i would anyway, i'd probably get slapped with some sexual harassment law suit.
lacking any segue
i am smack dab in the middle of spring break and not in nyc like planned. oh well, i'm making ridiculously little money instead of spending a crapload that i don't have. i'll make it there someday. (or atleast near there, say...idunno, maybe, um albany.)
i expect all who read this to wake up tomorrow morning drenched in green beer and half chewed chunks of corned beef-gawd knows i will.
kidding mum and dad, maybe, no i am, really.

so much

Wed, 18 Feb 2004 09:20:17 GMT

i should go.
leg cramps.
oh, inverted world.
volkswagens.
eating alot (<-) of sushi.
yellow house on paper street.
oxoxo.
under pressure.

left-handed genius (according to the pencil)

Thu, 05 Feb 2004 16:35:28 GMT

on the outside: sly smurk
on the inside: mwaahahahaaa!!!
pen in hand and elbow perfectly poised, i look on as all those who have taunted me struggle to find a right-handed desk. (for whatever reason all the "reject" desks made their way to cfa eighteen, possibly to die.) the lucky few sit smugly beside me and watch as their fellow left-brainers attempt to adjust to the unfamiliar situation. several resort to ignoring the desk completely and using their binders as a replacement. others adjust and squirm in their seats to find the perfect position that will allow the slightest bit of support, usually resulting in a 180 degree rotation and their backs to the professor. welcome to my world!
oh how the tables have turned (hardy har har)!
for the first time ever i can sit back in my chair, recline, if you will. i can make eye contact with the prof (not long enough to be put on the spot, mind you). my notes are neater. seriously, i was flipping through other class notes and compared to history they're chicken scratch. do you understand how freaking significant this is?! all previous blame i've placed on myself and the teaching techniques of past profs. can now be placed on the desk! i never really deserved those grades it was merely a desk "malfunction."

serenity now! serenity now!

guilt ridden

Tue, 27 Jan 2004 20:43:42 GMT

i'd like to make a public apology. lately i have adopted this sanctimonious attitude toward reality TV and then turned right around and watched said "filth." i am a freaking hipocrite; mainly in fear of disappointing my dad who so strongly opposes and loathes their existence, and also because i am ashamed.
well, here goes...

hi, my name is molly and i'm addicted to:
my big fat obnoxious fiance
the simple life
elimidate
blind date
and whatever else my limited resources provide (not "the apprentice" - line has been drawn).

i guess i feel better.
sorry dad.

the oneders

Tue, 27 Jan 2004 06:47:09 GMT

several things have happened to me as of late. unexplainable the whole lot. but nothing seems to get me down. so don't even try. really, don't. you won't get to me.
i love my classes. i hurt my car. i met a boy. we hurt his car.
new job. new person on the other side of the carpet wall.
miss my dog. my rat is gone (didn't have him very long).
face is dry and itchy.
can't stop smiling.

maintain, maintain, be
cool. air quotes and fake accents.
we can get half off.

pimple popper md

Fri, 23 Jan 2004 23:00:49 GMT

DUDE!
so, my vain reason for visiting the dermatologist shall not be disclosed, but the aftermath however, will...
i wake up this morning ready to dunk my entire head in the toilet bowl in hopes the nasty, yet cool, water within will aid my burning face, and keep me from scratching myself unrecognizable.
instead i stare dumbfounded at my red blotchy reflection and begin to tear up. the secretion from my ducts leaves a white bumpy trail down my cheeks and causes everything in it's path to sting.
fists clenched i silently curse dr. clemenson who should know better than anyone i'm one skin allergy away from living in a bubble and one complex away from becoming a hermit, so anything resulting in a horrible rash spanning from widow's peak to collar bone is just enough to put me over the edge.
mommy!!
cowboy up, you whiny wuss!
fine

for chrissake, people!

Thu, 08 Jan 2004 21:51:21 GMT

my annoyance this afternoon can be best described using a metaphor my dad so eloquently articulated:
"reality tv is like dog shit in the backyard, there's no escaping it."

*"my big, fat, obnoxious fiance," need i say more?*

my real beef:
the NBC network execs have their heads so far up trump's ass they can see regis's dick.
i don't care how fucking rich he is, no one messes with must see tv. it is sacred.
i hope all those who have been eagerly looking forward to this evenings new friends episode boycott the malodorous trash which follows.

courtesy flush

Wed, 07 Jan 2004 00:21:46 GMT

it's around ten thirty AM when you realize drinking those two cups of coffee on top of the jimboys you ate late last night (or early this morning) aren't really making the most delectable combination in your stomach, in fact you're convinced they hate each other.
gurgle...
it's around eleven o' clock when you start working your sphincter like your kegel hoping the repetitive motion may coax that lethal shit, that's so determined to outsmart you, back into your intestines.
grumble...
it's eleven o' five when that bead of sweat forms right by your ear and you're kidding yourself when you think you can wait till one when you go home for lunch.
burble...
it's eleven o' six when that fictitious light bulb turns on above your head and you remember hearing way back about this "pooping sanctuary" on the top floor specifically reserved for those petrified of shitting anywhere but their home all the while you're squirming and hopping from foot to foot and your face is getting paler by the second.
bluuurbbblle...
it's eleven o' seven when you kick yourself for wasting so much time thinking about what you're going to do rather than actually getting a move on to the elevator.
grrrrrrr...
it's eleven o' seven.30 when you hightail it to the mustard colored elevator all the way on the other side of the room attempting not to breathe or un-clench your butthole.
BLUGRURRRBLE...
it's eleven o' eight when you punch the up arrow about twenty-three times even though in the back of your head you hear "if it's already lit up there's no reason to press it again."
SHUT UP!
eleven o' nine and you're contemplating taking the stairs, but fear the jostling involved might just hasten the explosion your so desperately trying to control.
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!! YOU STUPID MOTHERFUCKING ELEVATOR, HURRY THE FUCK UP!!
eleven ten it finally arrives and you waddle penguin style over to the railing that may be your only means of stability when the lift jerks like an old skool roller coaster into motion and you grab your ass in a fashion that boosted jeff daniels into super stardom and hold on for dear life.
*a noise only dogs can hear produced by inhaling through a constricted throat*
eleven eleven the elevator lands with an even more detrimental thump and you begin unbuttoning your pants while you give up on the clenching and run like hell through two doorways and one stall door.
THANK YOU JESUS!! aaahhhhhhhh...
eleven eleven.30 you plop down on those porcelain lips, curl your toes, clutch the seat and release a substance so foul it could kill all plants within a half mile radius. your eyes are watering and you're just about finished when...
the door opens...
NOOOOOOOO!!!
courtesy flush
commence clenching
sweating
shaking
glaring at those mauve pumps who single-footedly fucked you
the bitch finally flushes
doesn't wash her hands (sicko)
you resume the hazmat evacuation
eleven thirteen you're empty and exhausted
you wash your hands.

jitter jittery jit-jit jitter......8^)

Tue, 16 Dec 2003 00:35:41 GMT

i'd like to announce the sweet glorious return of coffee to my quivering left hand. man-o'-war have i missed thee!
i even found myself reveling in it's odoriferous presence whilst pissing and am able to distinguish upon release whether it's my mom's columbian blend, kupp's kenyan, or wolf perk's dollar dosage. that's right baby, thrice i have indulged today. it's only a matter of time before i can reclaim my "ms triple americano" status. i can't, for the life of me, remember why i decided to quit.
my head hurts. not to mention what i would do for a cigarette right now, can we say "dog army(?)"
hehe

*random: i accidentally said "that's the way the turkey tumbles" instead of "that's the way the cookie crumbles," and frankly, i prefer my version.*

a friend is seeking your ruin...

Wed, 10 Dec 2003 21:25:38 GMT

last nite i adopted a rather convincing cockney accent, produced zydeco with my pocket change and anal beads, and dodged miniature flaming pianos being hurled onto the eleventh floor of the building where the other stars of "battlepants galactica" and i noshed on salmon potpie and junior mints.

more cushion for the pushin

Thu, 04 Dec 2003 20:04:43 GMT

having been an avid tv watcher my whole life, coping with my cable-less apartment has been a rather trying task. much to my chagrin the WB has become my new best friend during these hard times, maybe in some way to satisfy that part of me that resents my parents for banning from my viewing repertoire such "filth" as 90210, melrose place, and even in my teens: dawson's creek. (but allowing films with full frontal nudity and fuck, shit, bitch beginning in my toddler years?)
my utter hatred of commercials still prevails, and because the WB comes in its pants at any opportunity to run a five minute string of them, i am forced to surf the six other channels for anything non-committal and remotely entertaining.
i've noticed a common, somewhat perplexing theme (a phenomenon much like the motherless children of disney) amongst prime-time family oriented sitcoms.
what the hell's up with all the "husky" jovial husbands and thin uptight wives?! they're everywhere you flip! there's even a paunchy irishman paired with a lean marge gunderson type??? if this doesn't call for furrowed brows, then i don't know what does!
oddly enough i'm growing increasingly attracted to this type of guy. i've begun seeking out my own king of queens to wrap my arms around just enough to where my fingertips flirt with the idea of touching, to cook big elaborate meals for, and of course, to make me laugh and smile to no avail. :)
aahhh
chunky is the new sexy.

Mon, 01 Dec 2003 23:21:01 GMT

my parents and i had a most deligthful unconventional thanksgiving. dad and i surprised my mom and whisked her away to a town where i do believe all of our hearts belong. three relaxing days were spent on the terrace of a comfy santa cruz hotel, where we ate, drank, and laughed amid the crashing waves and flawless autumn weather. *sigh* i really love it there. go slugs!
the sardine factory on cannery row dished out five courses of gourmet turkey day goodness, martha stewart would have even relished. they made yams tolerable, delicious even.
the downside of eating out: driving an hour after the tryptophan kicks in.
the downside to school: getting little to nothing done on vacation. aaarrgghhhh
my parents dropped me off in berkeley on saturday where kyle and i spent a lazy afternoon and evening cooped up in a hotel room, and a short while shopping. it too was delightful, but the drive home may have been the last for my little car.
will someone please rescue me from this semester?!

poor guy

Sat, 15 Nov 2003 04:32:19 GMT

like two months ago i heard a really powerful short story on NPR. i don't remember the authors name, but she was a woman, and damn was she insightful.
a brief summary would go as follows:
"when i was young i had an imaginary friend. he and i were inseparable. my bicycle handle bars were constantly occupied by his nonexistent ass. it was great. i was never alone. we always had a wonderful time causing mischief, and never knowing what would happen next. before i knew it i was all grown up and without noticing my quixotic friend was gone. i wondered when he had left and why. i thought back on the last ten years of my life and realized what had caused the departure of my chimerical cohort... why would anyone want to sit around watching TV all day long, reading magazines, taking an occasional trip to the store, once a week renting a new release, and if it was a really special evening we would order a pizza......why the fuck wouldn't my invisible friend disappear?!"
this hit me pretty hard and made me think (and cry). i just pictured my imaginary friend that i never knew i had hanging out at my neighbor's house because they were more exciting, they were swingers, or had a scooter, i don't even know, but the fact is there could have been someone next to me during those countless hours i spent watching the simpsons and seinfeld reruns when i could have been reading them some great classic novel, taking them sky diving, watching indie films instead of block busters, laughing instead of grimacing, traveling instead of sitting on my fat rump, going to exhibit openings to get free food instead of hitting up costco, being outside instead of glued to this confounded machine.
sorry, dude, i'll try to make it up to you.

oy ve

Fri, 07 Nov 2003 21:25:29 GMT

"sheeet darling, vhen i vas tventy-two i vas having sex on zee chandelier, you make sure eet's secure first, k darling...zay alvays loved my biggest muscle, my brain, darling, zat's vhy zay never touched eet, ha!"
*amusing, russian slut in my cardio jam class.*
------------------------------------------------------------
1. don't talk with your mouth full
2. he doesn't know you can't sing
3. ix-nay on the helen keller jokes
4. your snort is wasted on him
5. YOU DON'T KNOW THE PLEDGE IN SIGN LANGUAGE! but, but-NO!
6. floss
7. use the expensive lip goop
*things to remember while/before attempting to charm your deaf blind date*

sorry, but i couldn't resist.............

why didn't helen keller scream when she fell off the cliff?
she was wearing mittens

tipsy tippi

Tue, 04 Nov 2003 17:27:03 GMT

i poured myself into a jackie o'-esque pink suit, ruined a blond "glamour" wig, zip-tied a mangy raven to my chest, wore pantyhose for, like three seconds, and tackled all hallow's eve head on.
we celebrated the birthday of the queen of hearts, drank fancy martinis, sat next to "super-mon" (hehe, he had dreads) in a bar surrounded by people who were in the running for the next grinch who stole halloween, which actually made it all the more better.
i found myself in a costume contest and nearly won had it not been for my mormon friend.
went to a show and was rushed on stage by ghouls, devils, blood, pirates, and sombreros... vintage atomics fans. my throat opened like a baleen as i received my first whiskey baptism and converted with grace and ease.
ate cheese fries, then stumbled home with my favorite girl.
it was a wonderful nite, but one hell of a november morning...youch!

holy snow on the rooftops, batman!

Thu, 30 Oct 2003 17:26:02 GMT

SNOW!! how weird is that?
yesterday: seventies
today: cold enough for that magnificent substance to form in our atmosphere and float gracefully to the ground or a tree or a house or your mouth if you're lucky enough to wake up while it's still SNOWING! which, of course, i didn't.
tonite: after breaking into my apartment because i just realized i forgot my keys again, my favorite thursday date and i are going to stuff ourselves silly with sushi, mmmmmmm.
tomorrow: on halloween, in my two-piece pink suit that should be blue if i really wanted to pull off the whole tippi hedren idea i have, i will twirl amongst the SNOWflakes and try not to fall down which i'm sure i will because i'll be in heels, and heels=molly on her ass.

what do they do in kentucky on halloween?.............................
pumpkin

steinmart: jacket, pants, earrings

Tue, 28 Oct 2003 17:18:34 GMT

i ran into the father of a friend on sunday shopping with his new wife, me with no money. he was as polite as ever and lied through his teeth when he told me i looked great. but he's the (smart)type who just looks right through you, so maybe he didn't even notice my dirty-ass hair, mouse-tittied house sweater (don't know why i let it leave the house), and grungy pants that were intended for pep boys' eyes only, but i couldn't stand that waiting room any longer and there just happened to be that old, snotty, lady store across the street honing in on my weakness to shopping, so i caved.
he and i chit-chatted briefly. long enough for me to realize he didn't remember seeing me maybe two months prior, understandable, i suppose, he's a busy important guy. i couldn't help wondering, however, whether or not he volunteered to accompany his wife, or whether or not seeing me, someone else/anyone else, may have been the highlight of his shopping excursion, and maybe that was why he seemed disappointed when i told him the shoe aisle was screaming my name so i had better skedaddle. i hope not.

post script: i haven't had a carcinogen cylinder in three months!

bruises

Mon, 27 Oct 2003 18:48:38 GMT

i owe someone a great big thank you. i don't know who they are, but they deserve to be showered with love and cookies.
thank you
222

death of a salesgirl

Thu, 23 Oct 2003 19:15:10 GMT

there was a tiny knock at my door the other night.
"an unexpected caller at this hour," i said to myself, "how exciting!" i set down my glass of two buck chuck and hopped (yes, hopped, maybe skipped) to the door ignoring the peep hole because i just love surprises, and threw it open with a welcoming smile.
in front of me stood the littlest excuse for a girl ever. she was shivering, grinning, blinking profusely, and practically swimming in this hideous sweatshirt. her lower half was clad in jeans that had been assaulted by the be-dazzler and her itty-bitty feet reluctantly wore six inch thick white flip-flops that seemed to encourage her toes to hang ten...she was a sight, and without an iota of hesitation hurried into my home and offered candy and beverage and cheap mexican drugs (she had a headache).
she explained to me how she was in a race with hundreds of other people to sell the most magazine subscriptions so she could go to the bahamas, of course! her spiel was enthralling. she tossed in one-liners and scripted flattery at precisely the right time.
"why's janna grinnin'? cuz she's winnin'"
"why's janna smilin'? cuz you're stylin'"
"i made those up myself"
"oh, clever."
apparently she's in third place and if i had guessed that she would have washed my car. damn, i was so close too, i said twelfth (<-best hang-man word, bar none...or sequoia).
she went on and on all the while i'm tidying up, feigning interest, and basically just pleased to hear another voice besides the three in my head. i perused her selection of prime bathroom reading material and was outraged when my favorite checkout line guilty pleasure was not on the list.
"WhAt?! no people magazine!" i exclaimed. "i can't read teen people, that would just be sad."
"but, but, we uh..." scanning her artillery of suave salesmen remarks branded in her mind by contest henchmen, "i think you should try 'glamour.'"
"yeah, um, no thanks." scowls. (i could kill you and no one would know.)
"i'll take this one..." points randomly.
"who do i make the check out to?" scribbles furiously.
"get out of my house." shoves inappropriately.
"yeah, yeah, god bless, whatever, bye." disgusted.
SUCKER!

no, not ghosts

Tue, 21 Oct 2003 23:46:05 GMT

there is a sock tied in a knot on my floor, my closet door was ajar (it's never open in the morning, i use it to see the tv through my mirror), a movie i never watch is in my vcr playing and rewinding over and over again, and after eight to ten hours of sleep i'm still worn out when i wake up... why? got me.
only explanation i have is that i've taken up sleep walking. there has only been one recorded account of me doing so and that was a year ago and it involved voting(?). (well, last weekend my roommate did get a sneak peak of molly "sometimes i sleep in the nude" mott stumbling to the bathroom, which i have no recollection of happening, but it could have very well been the vodka.)
so, i'm concerned. this isn't the only rem problem i have.
deciphering between dreamworld and reality has been a bit of a challenge lately too. it's kinda freaky, man.
do do do do, do do do do

Tue, 21 Oct 2003 00:37:43 GMT

yesterday, for the first time ever, i went to a movie by myself. it really wasn't bad, i enjoyed the elbow room; however, "one for lost in translation please," kept echoing in my head.
you're right, kissame, it's hard not to fall in love with the girl.
after a weekend of nothing but disturbing movies ("happiness" and "willard") i had high hopes for sofia's latest to lift my dangling spirits. quite the contrary, i found myself "stuck" like charlotte and bob.
i need a bob.

bad days start with missing lunches

Wed, 15 Oct 2003 22:41:21 GMT

a whole wheat pita, spicy hummus, shitake mushroom vinaigrette, a yuppie blend of greens, red onions, tomatoes, green olives, pastrami, and muenster cheese.
mmm...doesn't that sound delicious?

yeah, i wouldn't know.