Some Reasons Why Video Games Rule.

One of my most favorite songs of all time? Perhaps. The best use of ANY JAY-Z SONG EVER? Most definitely.




Sometimes I wonder if Aubrey Plaza and I were separated at birth. And then I remember that she's way cooler than me.




Sam Worthington? Hot. Jonah Hill? Hot...? Weird.




And finally, the greatest thing video games have ever given me. True story: I was serenaded with this song by someone very dear to me. He learned to play guitar just for the occasion. It was probably one of the sweetest, most thoughtful things anyone has ever done in my presence. His girlfriend is a lucky lady.

Don't ever let anyone tell you that video games aren't vehicles for intense creativity.
Or that they don't rule.
Because, clearly they do.

Oh. Em. Gee.

Have you seen this show?

I am in love.

Officially.

Particularly with these dudes, even though they were eliminated.

Whatevs.

Except Nicole Sherzinger is kind of a moron.

And by "kind of a moron", I mean...an epic moron.

Totally Normal...?

Five things about me that might be a little strange.

1. I crack my toes constantly. Like, my life will not continue unless I can bend my toes an experience the unparalleled satisfaction of the pop! and relief that subsequently occurs. That's how vital it is to my existence. And if someone else cracks my toes for me? Well let's just say that after that, they don't even have to buy me dinner.

2. I chew gum. All the time. I think I'm paranoid about my breath. Trust me, I'm no oral hygiene slouch: I carry a toothbrush with me at all times. My job necessitates a very close proximity to others, and as such I am inclined to err on the side of caution. I'm up to about a half a pack a day. Do they make a patch for people like me?

3. My underwear and bra must always match.

4. Sometimes when I am in a crowded place and I see someone who has a made a poor fashion choice for the day, I make them over in my head (What Not To Wear-style). I do the same thing with people's eyebrows. I've embarrassed my sister more than once by going up to random strangers and saying, "so, when was the last time someone tried to tame that face-jungle of yours?"

5. I thoroughly enjoy extracting crap from people's faces. I'm just going to leave it at that.


I hereby tag Lizzie, Molly Beth, and Sally.

Go on.
Let your Freak Flag fly.

from here.

Hilarious.

from here.

Really Super-Funny.

Really.

Also: please know that I'm not dead (if you care, Grandma).
I just need some blogging inspiration.
I have plenty of ideas.
I just needa get to it.

Until such time, please enjoy the following hilarious video.



....while I go share a bagel with the garbage.

Also:

Yes.

I like talking about myself.

1. what is your current obsession?
Creative makeup. And maybe eyebrows.

2. what are you wearing today?
Sisly jeans, American Apparel white cami, black long-sleeve from Nordstrom, awesome scarf from Akira, brown boots from Aldo, and gold hoops from some seller on Etsy that I can't recall.

3. what’s for dinner?
El Salvadorian food. Super-pumped.

4. what’s the last thing you bought?
Purple tulips from Trader Joe's.

5. what are you listening to right now?
Interpol-Antics

6. what is sitting next to you right now?
A large gray cat. Purring and snoozing.

7. if you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished anywhere in the world, where would you like it to be?
Winnetka on the shore of the lake. Or Paris.

8. one thing you wanna change about yourself?
So many things... but probably my follow-through (bachelor's degree..cough cough...)

9. if you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go?
London

10. which language do you want to learn?
French, Portuguese, Italian and German are on my list.

11. what’s your favourite quote?
"Not all those who wander are lost."-- JRR Tolkein. In fact, if I were to get a tattoo, that would be it.

12 . would you cook for me?
Homemade pizza or spaghetti. We like carbs over here.

13. what is the right way to avoid people who purposefully hurt you?
Walk away. Or ignore them. Or punch them in the face. Either way.

14. what are you afraid of the most?
Fish.

15. who do you want to meet right now?
Dr. Drew. He just seems so "with it." I think it would be interesting to sit down and talk to him.

16. what is your favourite color?
Purple. It's kind of an obsession.

17. give us 3 styling tips that work for you.
Scarves.
Fun jewelry (animal-themed works for me)
Always bring someone you trust to shop with you.

18. what is your dream job?
Makeup artist, photographic stylist, journalist.

19. what’s your favorite magazine?
Real Simple.

20. if you had $100 now, what would you spend it on?
Books. Or maybe towards my credit card debt? That would be a good plan.

21. what do you consider a fashion faux pas?
Trying too hard.

22. who according to you is the most over-rated writer?
Stephenie Meyer. I know, I know- I've read Twilight, I've seen the movies. The concept is pretty innovative, but the writing really is crap.

23. what brings a smile on your face instantly?
Stupid cat pictures, funny text messages from teh BFF's.

24. a word that you say a lot?
The F-Word. I try really, REALLY hard not to and I'm getting better, but it's definitely still present in my vernacular.

25. what kind of haircut do you prefer?
I would love LOVE to have long hair. I think it's much more versatile. However, by the time my hair gets to the "growing out" point, it tends to get stringy and annoying. So, short and layered it is!

26. what are you going to do after this?
Laundry, homework, and running some errands.

27. what do you do when you are feeling low or terribly depressed?
Take a nap with the fat gray cat.

28. what makes you go wild?
Nice weather.

29. what are your favourite movies?
There are so many....but lately, I've been into foreign films with subtitles.

30. what inspires you?
Literature. Poetry. Movies. Music. Photography. Paintings. Art, in a word.

31. what do your friends call you most commonly?
Loud. Or neurotic.

32. would you prefer coffee or tea?
Tea. Coffee tends to upset my stomach.

33. which other blogs do you love visiting?
A lot of them. Anything that doesn't take itself too seriously, is witty, has great ideas, or beautiful images.

34. favorite dessert/sweet?
Popsicles. I've also been known to inhale creme brulee, but I'm trying to eliminate dairy so that's not happening anymore.

35. how many tabs are turned on in your browser right now?
Four. That's pretty tame 'round these parts.

36. when you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought?
Walk away. Very quickly.

37. favorite season?
Fall. I love all the smells and the colors and the weather. It's pretty much perfect.

38. one wish that you really want to see it come true?
An appropriate plan for environmental conservation, a solution to world hunger and a solution to all the excess consumption, particularly in America. That counts as one wish, right?

39. what breaks your heart?
Mistreatment of animals. Close-minded people. Young girls who feel the need to objectify themselves as a result of low self-esteem.

40. what's one thing you really want to do in life?
Live with total independence.

Humiliation in 60 Seconds or Less.

Erm...I came across this little gem in my TV travels tonight.

What? I was waiting for "Amazing Race" to TiVo!
Stop judging.

Anywho.

If you're not familiar, "Minute to Win It" features contestants that try to win $1,000,000 by performing inane tasks. For example: emptying an entire Kleenex (excuse me...tissue...) box with one hand, knocking a pyramid of six pop cans off a table by launching rubber-bands at them, and bouncing ping-pong balls into a fishbowl through a series of three paper plates.
All in sixty seconds or less, as the name implies.

There are ten levels, and the tasks get progressively harder as the levels increase. Contestants also get three "lives," just in case their water-bottle-tossing-skills aren't up to snuff and they happen to fail.

Um, what?

Since when is acting like a drunken frat boy trying to impress a bunch of Kappas considered talent?

I veto this.

I do love Guy Fieri, though.
He cracks me up.
And he's got bitchin' hair.

Thing I don't understand about the universe today

Why do cute shoes always mangle my feet?
I feel as though everytime I find a really cute pair, the rip my feet up. It's not fair.
I bet if I could afford Manolos like certain New Jersey socialte/nannies/lawyers/bloggers that I am aquainted with, my feet wouldn't look like raw hamburger.
Raw hamburger covered with bandaids.

Why do married men hit on me?
And only married men.
Swear to Jeebus.
Like I give off some sort of "irresponsible and a good potential midlife crisis candidate" sort of vibe.
It's very weird and confusing.
Anyone else have this problem?
Probably just me.

Why do Peeps taste better stale?
The only food in the world that falls into that category.
Also very weird and confusing.

What the F is up with this weather?
Stupid April. It supposed to be warm.
And stuff.
This is not conducive to my cute dresses and sandals plan.
Time for Plan B.
Except for too bad I don't have one of those.
So, let's get with the program.
Do you hear me, Spring?

Ugh.
Time to go move more shit.

In other news: WE GET INTERNET TOMORROW!

Sooo...maybe I'll be doing some posting from home?

Maybe?

Twidiot

The other day, I lost a huge personal battle.
I've already given in to the temptations of gaucho pants, gigantic earrings, and unnecessarily large amounts of bronzer. Does it really matter if I give in to one more supposedly and inexplicably trendy thing that goes against all my morals and cultural expectations?
Probably not.
Except that this time, I joined Twitter.

Have you heard of Twitter?
Of course you have. Unless you've been living in a cave in the Mojave or you're my grandma or something. But just in case you have (or you are my grandma), I will explain.
One of the greatest and most wonderful things about Facebook is that it provides a place for users to put "statuses"and update them as they see fit.

Por ejemplo:
Molly is... eating lunch.
Molly is... taking a nap.
Molly is... rotting in a gutter somewhere.
Molly is... angry because Heroes is starting to suck more and more each time she watches it but she can't stop because it used to be so good and she's secretly hoping that the next episode will blow her mind and all will be right with the world again. But it doesn't, and it's not. She just gets disappointed. Every. Single. Time.

See? Fun, right?

This glorious little function is generally agreed upon by the ever-expanding population of Facebook to be the most desirable part of the whole "FB" (that's what we seasoned veterans call it...FB) experience.
This is perhaps because people, myself included, are nosey.
We're also a self-indulgent generation. If it's not worth putting on the internets to make our peers jealous and for the rest of the world to see how obviously amazing we are, then it's simply not worth doing. This very blog might, in fact, be considered exhibit A to my argument.
But really...is the issue even foggy enough to warrant an argument?
I digress.

The statuses on Facebook are the best part.
Everyone knows that.
Except the only problem is that you have to deal with all the other crap that Facebook spews forth from it's ever-widening gaping void of creative programming.
Send your BFF's bumper stickers!
Virtual bumper stickers!
With pithy sayings!
Even though they all live in different states!
Just by clicking a button!
Isn't technology FUN?!

I've often found myself pining, like so many of us no doubt do, for a land where statuses can be and are posted unencumbered by requests for offensive buttons on a fake bulletin board and electronically simulated gardens. Because there's no way any of the aforementioned things could ever exist outside of cyberspace. Especially with, like, wood and grass and stuff.
If only someone would have the innovation to create such a magical place and save us all from the horrific fate of having to sift through 97 requests to have a theoretical daiquiri via a computerized social-networking site with people you haven't spoken to since high school graduation.
If only such a world existed.
If only...

Enter: Twitter.

Twitter is nothing but status updates.
All the time.
With none of that other "applications" BS.
It's pretty much the coolest thing in the history of ever.

You can also put an RSS on your Blogger template so that the people who visit your blog (all three and half of them) can see what you're up to, even if they don't have Twitter accounts.
Now my mother knows when I'm watching re-runs of "Friends" and eating Thin Mints instead of doing stuff she asks me to do, like proof a design or get a degree.
It's just like living at home, except without the free food and rent.

And...AND! You can follow all sorts of famous people on Twitter. Unlike Facebook, people don't have to accept your friendship request to see your profile. So, you can poke around in peoples lives with complete confidence and total anonymity.
Like right now? I know that Ryan Seacrest has to pick out a suit for this weeks Idol taping, Dr. Drew just got back from Chicago, and Jimmy Fallon did NOT use audience plants for some segment on his show (PS- did you know Jimmy Fallon took over the Late Show? Maybe I'm the one who's been living in a cave in the desert).

All hail Twitter.

I can now poke my nose not only into the lives of people I actually know, but into the lives of complete and total strangers who also happen to be on TV.
And it's addictive.

Didn't they used to arrest people for this?

Yes, yes they did.
I believe the term used most often in restraining orders is "stalking."

Now it's perfectly legal.
My prayers have been answered.

I Should Probably Stop Blogging at Work.

Someday.

So, it's Sunday. And technically, it's my "weekend off", whatever that means anymore.
And I feel like crap because I ate a bunch of crap (please see previous post and add three red velvet cupcakes to the list of awful). And I'm tired. And my sinuses are making my face swollen. And the economy is failing.

Waaahhhhhh.

I think this calls for a stupid survey.
You dig?

Dreaming of....
Scotland. Absolutely. The Isle of Skye is one of the most beautiful places on earth. I mean, the food sucks and all. But if I could die in front of Faerie Falls, I would be okay with that.

Martini of Choice....
I'm not so much a fan of gin. Although, last time I was at Ginger, I had them make a pear martini but with vodka...oh man.

Currently Craving....
Something spicy. Fajitas, I think. Or a black bean burger with pickles and avocado. Thanks Blogger. Now I'm hungry.

Beauty Trick....
Dr. Bronner's all-in-one soap. It's organic AND vegan AND awesome. They have a couple different smells, but I'm rocking the peppermint one. You can use it to wash your skin and your hair and your face and shave your legs. Oh, and Smith's Rosebud Salve is kind of miraculous.

Obsessed With....
Moccasins. I love my Minnetonka pair, but I wear them so much they're going to fall to pieces in the not-too-distant future. I just bought a new pair from Target yesterday, and I'm eying another one from Nordstrom. It's becoming a problem.

Can't get enough of...
American Idol. Mostly because I cannot wait until Tatiana bites the big one.

Driving....
A 2001 Plymouth Voyager that is not on fire.

Loves to play....
Sudoku. I downloaded an app for my Blackberry so I can play whenever I want to. Also, Apples to Apples. It's pretty hilarious sometimes. And Rock Band II!!! I enjoy induldging my inner-rockstar.

On the nightstand....
Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates, A Lion Among Men by Gregory Maguire, and The Brief Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz.

Learning....
More extensive and intense yoga. I'm starting a new round of Ashtanga classes March 3rd. I'm really excited.

In my purse....
Besides the usual stuff, package of Orbit Crystal Mint gum, my striped day-planner from Curiosty Shoppe, five different kinds of lipgloss, and a sharpie.

Coveting....
Mandy Moore's style in "Because I Said So" and "License to Wed." Not so good movies, with really cute clothes. I'll take a side of Gabriel Macht or John Krasinski, too.

Wishing I was watching....
"Say Anything" or "Sixteen Candles". I'm in a John Hughes mood today.

I'm not going to lie.
Today will be a looong day.
As such, there might be some more posting.
You're welcome.

Confessions

1. I'm pretty sure the yahoos at McDonald's gave me regular Coke instead of diet. Let me just say that I don't really drink pop. Like, as in almost never. And when "almost never" rolls around, I try to go for diet over regular. You know, for health reasons and stuff. So on this rare occasion that I do choose to partake in that-which-is-so-unholy, it really busts my chops when jerkfaces who choose not to listen to me when ALL I ORDER IS ONE STINKING DRINK. But you know what? I'm drinking it anyway. Because I need the caffeine. Joke's on you, incompetent fast-foodigans.

2. While I am drinking the aforementioned evil pop, I am also eating some Twizzlers. And maybe a Ding-Dong for good measure. Because tonight is all about consuming things that are good for my body. Obviously. And currently, it is also all about watching "Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist", which is admittedly not as crappy as everyone told me it would be. It's actually kind of amusing. I guess since I'm eating junk food and watching borderline-awful romantic comedies, tonight could probably considered my pseudo-Valentine's celebration. Particularly since I will be engaging in some very un-Valentiney activities on the actual day. Oh, and I'm getting paid for polluting my body and my brain. I'm the coolest person ever, right?

3. I am kind of entertained by the song "The Gambler", as performed by Kenny Rogers. I know that it's crappy. I know that everyone else thinks it sucks. I don't care. If Kenny Rogers and songs about transients spouting life advice and then dying on trains are wrong, then I don't want to be right.

4. Michael Cera is the sh*t. Watching him makes my life happier. Also, he makes me miss "Arrested Development." I can't wait for the movie.

5. Barack and Michelle are in Springfield tonight for some Lincoln-related banquet at the Crowne Plaza. But first they stopped in Peoria. In a car, it takes approximately an hour and a half to drive from Peoria to Springfield. Airforce One took off at 5:02 and landed at 6:21. It took a JET an hour and 11 minutes to make a trip that takes and hour and 30 minutes by car. Three guesses as to why...

6. I have the greatest friends of all time. No. Seriously.

7. I think that hand-holding is a lost art. And I think we should bring it back.

Out of my mind

With boredom.

That is why I am posting twice in, like, four hours.

Someone give me a good book to read.
Or a title of one.
Whatever it takes.
I feel like my brain is going to liquefy and leak out my nose at any moment.

I heart my job.

A couple of things, while we're at it.

Want.
As they say on ICanHasCheezburger.
What? You don't know what ICanHasCheezburger is?
You suck.
Click on the link and discover greatness.

Will someone please explain to me why I have 6 different kinds of chapstick in my purse?
SIX.
I've only had it since last Thursday.
I think I need an intervention.

I'm sick of painting my nails black and gray, but I don't know what other colors to paint them.
It's not even close to Spring yet, so I can't really do fun happy colors like pink or blue. Lest the InStyle monarchs swoop down and carry me off to the place where they send offenders who also carry fanny packs and do that whole "dark underneath, bleached on top" hairstyle. Note to those people: it does not make your look pretty. It makes you look like a skunk. A skunk who carries a little nylon pouch around it's waist.
I am not talented enough to do a french manicure.
Nor am I classy/sophisticated enough for red.
Don't even say that I should leave them unpolished, because that's just cruel and wrong.
I kind of miss having acrylics, because you didn't have to paint them.
But I don't miss them that much because they destroyed my nails for almost a year and they are muy expensivo.

Someone sent the office a huge tiered arrangement of Ferrero Rocher truffles. And wouldn't you know, it was still sitting in the same spot when I walked in last night.
So I had to be locked in an office alone, for an entire eight hours, with a dozen Ferrero Rocher hazelnut chocolate truffles. Unable to leave.
Yeah, that was fun and I don't hate myself at all. That's a lie.

Also, will someone please tell me why I am constantly having conversations like this:
M: So...how much do you love me?
B: Yes, you can come over and do laundry.

Bored and Stupid

Some reasons why this week promises to be kind of amazing

-Gabe is coming to town (!!!)
-New Years Eve shenanigans at Bradley and Christopher's. There's going to be a bubble machine. A bubble machine. How much cooler and sophisticated does one get? Answer: one does not.
-I have a three-day weekend
-My same-sex hetero life-partner, Molly Elizabeth herself, turns 25. I've already begun composition on her birthday tribute blog post. Just kidding. (Okay, not really)
-This is coming in the mail. Yes Blake, this is indeed what happens when you leave me alone in a room with a computer and decide that killing insurgents in an imaginary desert is more important than preventing me from squandering my paycheck on really adorable things. I hope you've learned your lesson.

My goal is to hopefully one day post something that makes sense and/or means something (didn't we just elect our nation's first bi-racial president? Or isn't there, like, a war happening somewhere?). But my brain just refuses to function at normal capacity at 2 am.

Sue me.

Just Don't Ask Me To DJ Your Next Party

Apparently, I have really bad taste in music.

I know, it came as a shock to me too.
In fact, it occurred to me (as most things do) while I was in the shower.
There's just something about the hot water and my peppermint soap and my cat whining because I've been out of his line of sight for more than twelve seconds that makes the environment prefect for epiphanies.
The harsh reality of my less-than-perfect musical tendencies was what I happened upon today.

Stay tuned: tomorrow I'm going to figure out how to solve the budget crisis.

Now, let's be clear: bad taste is not to be confused with lack of respect.
I have plenty of respect for decent music. Which is probably why my penchant for musical bastardizations is such a mystery to me.

I grew up in a household where we listened to The Beatles and The Allman Brothers and Lynyrd Skynyrd. That's how cool my parent's were. (do YOUR kids listen to Skynyrd? Didn't think so.)
This part makes sense, because my parents are products of the era that pretty much shaped the world, pop-culturally speaking. In other words, they knew what good music was.
In fact, they still do. My Dad is often the proud owner of the best tickets his credit card can find whenever people like Paul Simon (the singer, not the dead senator...obviously) or Crosby, Stills, and Nash come to town. They're in they're fifties, by the way (do YOUR parent's jam out at super-awesome concerts with America's rock legends? Didn't think so).
As such, we were only exposed to what can only be described as "non-crappy music."
They also did a pretty good job of sheltering us from...you guessed it: crappy music.
In fact, I wasn't even aware that the 80's and early 90's had musical movements (which is pretty amazing considering I was actually born smack-dab in the middle of one of those decades and was most certainly lucid for much of the other one, but whatever), until high school rolled around and we got VH1 and I started watching a whole lot of "Pop-Up Video".
But that's another story.

I also didn't know who people like Nelson and Poison actually were until I became friends with Marie, and she proceeded to warp my fragile little Sgt. Pepper's-shaped mind with cassette mix-tapes and foolishness like tight-rolling and day-glo.
She's so 80's sometimes.

My siblings even managed to inherit out parent's cool music genes.

Do those actually come in genetic form? Can we maybe use my obvious lack-there-of as final proof that I am really adopted?
I'll look in to it.

But, back to the music.

Joey loves his classic rock.
Truly, madly, deeply.
He's even got more than his fair share of Led Zeppelin posters in his old room at my parent's house. One of them might even be a cloth tapestry.
Such a good little flower child, he is.

Janie loves it, too.
But she's more into the singer-songwriters.
For example, Jack Johnson and John Mayer. While their respective musical talent might be debatable, no one can deny the mass-appeal of their respective abilities to write amazing lyrics.
Also, I'm pretty sure that both are on my sister's freebie list.

In addition to their individual tastes, they share a mutual adoration for Dave Matthews and his band of merry-makers.
Or just simply DMB, if you wanna hang with the cool kids.
They don't just love him.
They worship the very ground he plays his guitar on.
Every single summer, you can count on them camping out and spending insane amounts of money on a whole week's worth of Dave tickets when he makes his yearly pilgrimage to Alpine (may it rest in peace).

Now, I've enjoyed a Dave Matthew's concert or two in my time (no not like THAT, Mom).
I can get down with some Zeppelin.
I own Jack Johnson AND John Mayer albums.
I have almost every single classic-rock "pioneer" band on my iTunes.
John, Paul, George and Ringo are good buddies of mine.
Johnny Cash is listed as one of my favorite artist on both my MySpace and Facebook.
I even enjoy a little Dylan from time to time, although I try to keep it to a minimum because my mother hates him (which is strange to me, because wasn't he like the voice of her generation, or something?).

Not to mention that I'm consistently surrounding myself with people that hold vast wealth's of knowledge concerning modern music, as well.
Chelsea brought me The Kaiser Chiefs and The Shins.
Molly gave me David Gray and all the music from the "Alias" soundtrack.
Blake had introduced me to...everything else there is to know about music as it exists in the present day. Seriously. Good thing he makes really great mix CD's.

If all of the above is true, then why in the blue hell am I drawn to such awful melodies to complete the soundtrack of my everyday life?
I mean, if it's somewhere on the top 40 and is written by someone who had also starred in 3 movies/TV shows this year and has the words "baby girl" in it, count on me to crank up the volume when Ryan Seacrest introduces it.
No, I don't actually listen to Ryan Seacrest, but you get the picture.

I don't know what to do, or how to stop it.
I am at a loss.
Songs like "If I were a Boy" (Beyonce), "Leavin'" (Jesse McCartney) and "So What?" (Pink) cannot be good for my health and well-being.
Yet I still love them so (are YOUR musical tastes this lame? Didn't think so).

Send help people.
Send help and Rolling Stone now.

A Post About Nothing

Kind of.

Is it just me, or does cauliflower look like a bunch of little brains all squished together?

Let me back up.

So, I made curry with carrots, peas, potatoes, and brown rice for dinner last night. It was pretty delish, if I do say so myself (even thought I can't take credit for the actual sauce because I used this little guy right here…but I didn't over-cook anything, which is a pretty big deal if you're me). Blake thought it needed more ginger. I'm beginning to think that he feels the same way about ginger as I do about garlic. To paint a little picture, The Other Molly once told me that if I had the ability to put garlic on cold cereal that I probably would. To which I would respond that such a claim is preposterous as I draw the line for use of garlic as a condiment at Cream-of-Wheat and Snickerdoodles, thank you very much.

Just be glad you're not my boyfriend.

But, back to the curry.

Yummy? Check.

Filling? Check.

Fattening? Check.

Especially since we decided that some adult beverages (most of which rhymed with "flewdrivers) were a necessary part of our after-dinner Rock Band experience.

And fortune cookies.

And sorbet.

Did I mention that I had spaghetti for lunch, leftover from my weekend in The Chi? (Thanks Mom!)

I woke up today and contemplated hiring a forklift to drive me to work.

Who invented carbs, anyway?

They should be tarred and feathered and then forced to eat seventeen servings of pasta, only to then attempt to fit into their Seven for All Mankind stovepipe jeans.

Very unforgiving, those jeans.

Naturally, lots of green stuff was on my imaginary menu today.

Specifically, a salad.

Because I think I read somewhere that the FDA has declared green Mike-an-Ike’s unsuitable when counted as a serving of vegetables.

Damn.

So I packed myself a salad (and may I just take a moment to talk about how freaking FANTASTIC Newman’s Own Low Fat Sesame Ginger dressing is? I am not a particularly supportive fan of light dressings. I’ve always felt that if the dressing tastes like chalk made of aspartame, that it will render the salad unpalatable after only a few bites, thus depriving we, the eaters, of the nutritious value of the greens themselves. Which was the point of the salad in the first place, am I right? But this dressing…it’s like the heavens parted and the hand of the dear Lord himself reached down to endow Barack Obama with perpetual badass-ness and happened to brush a ginger plant along the way, thereby creating this magical accoutrement . And I promise that my enthusiasm has almost nothing to do with my undying love for Paul Newman himself…le sigh…And end sermon). To go along with this salad, I had an apple, some celery, carrots and the dreaded cauliflower.

The cauliflower, you see, has been lurking in my fridge for a good week and a half. It was purchased with the intent of roasting it sprinkled with some curry powder. What is it with me and Indian food lately? Maybe it’s a hold-over from when The Other Molly and I were living out a-London-ways. Someone stop me before I break down and find a recipe for naan…

I finally decided to cut the darn thing up, in hopes that it would help motivate me to actually eat it. In the process, I kind of wondered why it hadn’t gone bad yet. As I was eating it for lunch today, it occurred to me that the reason it had remained unspoiled all this time is because it’s all smooshed together so tightly that it takes forever for whatever it is makes veggies go bad to actually attach itself to it. And it’s this physical construction which makes it look NASTY.

A fact which, unfortunately, also occurred to me as I was eating lunch.

Sorry.

I guess I should’ve clarified that this tangent was not going in the direction of vegetative sciences and molding properties of root vegetables, but more in the direction of how cauliflower skeeves me out because it looks like cow brains that have been run through a Cuisineart and a trash compactor, respectively.

Because it really does.

Another thing that occurred to me as I was eating lunch is that Clive Cussler does not know how to write female characters.

Why am I reading Clive Cussler, you might wonder.

I needed something to supplement to void in my life after Twilight made its grand exit from my life (and I was able regain normal human brain function).

I figured Clive Cussler would be a literarily-appropriate second act.

And not in a good way.

I was correct. If you’ve ever read either, you know that I speak the truth.

However, in his introduction to his female lead character had just getting out of bed, wearing a halter-top and shorts.

A halter-top.

Are we kidding me, Clive?

No one wears halter-tops to bed. Or anywhere for that matter,

Unless you’re patronizing the Fried What?! booth at the Illinois State Fair.

Then it’s kind of a necessary fashion statement.

I swear that, for the sake of my own sanity, I will post something that makes sense.

Eventually.

It’ll probably have a lot to do with the story of how my car exploded and almost killed me and Lara.

Until then, I’m just going to sit here and think about how even though I should really just drink some tea and go to bed when I get home, I’ll probably have some of my Mom’s spaghetti and maybe a cookie.

Or three.

Couch Potatoes

Still no laptop.
Bad news bears.
Maybe someone will fix it for me while Lara and I are at my parent's house this weekend.
Because that would be super-fantastic.

And because there's no laptop, I have to make this a quickie.

Blake and I are catching up on about 4 weeks and 965 gazillion episodes of Heroes, The Office, and It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia tonight after I leave work.
Which is funny, because I found this during my traditional daily perusal of CNN.com.
Which, of course, reminded be of The Other Molly.
And Marie and Eric, too.

Who needs to pay for their own TV when you've got friends like this?
Not I... said the little red hen.