The Hap. Hap. Happiest Christmas since.....

Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny F-ing Kay. 

Merry Christmahanakwanzaakuh to all! The tree is decorated. The cookies are baked. Now off to the homestead to watch The Best Christmas Pageant Ever and eat hot dogs......tradition. It chokes me up sometimes.

"That's all you have to say?"

Children show us the immensity of love every day. Their capacity to feel empathy is boundless even in the darkest of times. None more so than when a beloved family member throws off this mortal coil and goes on......even when that family member is a goldfish named Lucky.



Now, Maya seems to be taking this loss in stride. I can only wonder if her feelings would be different if she knew the whole story. You see, the author is an avid watcher of both Law and Order and OZ. Over the course of this video Maya and her parents discuss the close "friendship" of Lucky and Marland and lament that Marland was always helping Lucky to eat.

These clues lead me to several conclusions:

1. Lucky's mental status BEFORE the death of Marland is questionable at best. Did he suffer from some form of goldfish eating disorder; or was he merely another tragic case of depression?

2. Is it possible that Lucky and Marland's friendship was less Chandler and Joey and a little more Beecher and Keller? I don't want to presuppose, but when the death of one leads to the death of another....you can't help but wonder how invested these little fish hearts were.

3. The mother. She didn't "know" Lucky?! He lived in your house, lady! Ate your food! Loved your daughter like a sister?! And you can't muster grief enough to say a few words at his funeral. I'm just sayin' it wouldn't be out of the question to turn a little of the heat on over to "Momma".....if that's even her real name.

Oh. Holy. Crap.

This is the funniest thing possibly of all time. Like me, she seems to have been sucked--pun intended--into the mental vortex that is Twilight. We drank the Kool-Aid, but only enough that we are still cognizant of the insanity, potential literary black holes, and the ever-increasing hilarity that IS this phenomenon.


Last day of school, yo. And? It's a half-day. AND? The work peeps are taking me out for an early birthday fiesta, seeing as how we'll be out on the actual day. Which leads me to say......Twenty Freakin' Five?! Oh, these jokers have gots to be kidding me. I don't know how I'll possibly recover from this....
That helps.

Attention!

Cancel all--undoubtedly amazing--Christmas/25th birthday present ideas--yes, Donya, even the gold-plated Obama commemorative coins.

Reason?

My computer seems to be in a death spiral. Something akin to Paul Rubin's protracted demise in the Buffy movie. I don't know why. I don't know how. I only know this......me no likey. Doesn't Tosh Iba know I need her? For blogging? Facebook stalking? Blogging?!

This is unacceptable. And I deign that you, my vast readership--of like 6 people--pool the money you're saving on lower gas prices and buy me this.


The death watch on the computer was doing nothing to get my two psych papers written; so I high-tailed it to Gorgas to make use of the free computing. And there was some DUDE next to me watching....wait for it....Annie on youtube. Without headphones. In the middle of finals. Seriously?!

I....There are no words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Can we talk for a second about Gossip Girl last night?! It's like when you watch Big Daddy--which is so NOT a crying movie--and you bawl your eyes out in the court room scene when DylanColeWhat'sHisName is screaming "But I wipe my own Ass!" Or it would be. If I'd ever done that, which I haven't.....shut up. Suffice it to say, I didn't think His Royal Hotness, one Chuck Bass, was capable of actual human tears. But when Blair went upstairs during the reception and.....the LOOK he gave her. It took everything I had not to liquify into the couch right then and there.*guh....


Oh, and I need to be here:



One bag, a bottle of red, and maybe a gentleman friend. Not too much to ask in this season of giving.......Why, yes Virginia, there IS a Santa Clause.

Dear Santa.....

All I want for Christmas is.....
God I'm pathetic....



Love, Molly


Sidebar: There's absolutely no justification for me lusting after the above pictured. Except maybe that unlike the Eleventy million screaming fangurls and Facebook flairmakers out there, I'm actually in the right age range for Mr. Sparkly. Joss Whedon's warped little mind is completely and totally responsible for this. In the words of supahspy Sydney Bristow......

"E.M.E.T.I.B. Got that? Now, reverse it."

December 1st

It's World AIDS Day. I'm always reminded that the fight is not over. Millions are infected and dying; and still aren't being educated and treated. The problems seem insurmountable, but when I see memorials like this.......
I have HOPE.

It's days like today....

....and things like this that never fail to make me smile. And be thankful for the togetherness of people, especially in times like this.



Happy Thanksgiving ya'll!

Sometimes, I just love people....

The following is SO something Chicago or Chels or I would do; and it just made me smile.


dancing with strangers from katie sokoler on Vimeo.

In Conclusion....

"No......YOU're a sexy president-elect."

Put your tiny hand in mine.

It is a known fact amongst me and mine that I'm a sucker for a good theme. Party, movie night.....week of Lifetime Movie Network. Like when they have Going to the Chapel Sunday or Political Intrigue Week around 4th of July. Prepare yourselves children, cause this week's gonna be one for the record books.

A entire week of Made for TV miniseries. The promo said "Because TV movies used to be so awesome that they wouldn't fit in only two hours." I knew where this was going. I hoped and prayed that this was going there. And lo, the television gods did smile down in their omnipotence and grant their lowliest of servants a gift.

O.M.F.G!

You feel dirty and bad and dirty just watching it. And yet, you watch it again. Some more. Contemplate several life choices:

1. Moving to the wilds of Australia and opening a sheep station named after an obscure Irish town.

2. Becoming Catholic.

3. Investing in hot rollers, AquaNet, and a filmy dusty rose (tm) dress.



I could try to explain to you what it's like watching this for the first time. I once attempted to explain the awesome of this masterpiece to someone and apparently it comes off as the pitch for either an episode of Law and Order: SVU or Dateline's To Catch a Predator. You truly have to see it to believe. If you are a reader of the romance novel (not that I am or anything. Shut up!) think back to the first time you read Johanna Lindsey or Nora Roberts or (egads!) Bertrice Small. It's sort of like that. Except everyone's very pretty and Catholic and it's very brown and lots of people die. Just trust me. TiVo this, grab manymany hours worth of snack, and settle in for the fantastic epic journey on which you are about to embark.

He's her lobster. She's his heartsong. They are each other's emperor penguins.


(And while you are watching, try not to think about the fact that Richard Chamberlain would rather schtupp Luke than Meggie. But since I said that that's probably ALL you'll think about.)


Wait, this will clear your mind....... Ahh. That's better.....

"This. Must. Be. POP!"

Why did IDKmyBFFJake and I watch *nsync videos on youtube, you ask?
.
.

Besides that.....

.
.
.
.
.
.
.

.
Aaaaaaand that *damn*

.
.
.
Because it followed a deep philosophical discussions of the various merits of that illustrious music group and their millennium era rivals, The Backstreet Boys.


We are disturbed.


We also laughed so hard at something positively insane that the Parliament smoking, muumuu wearing waitress at 15th Street Diner gave us the crazy eye. Maybe it's time to tone down the post-test festivities juuuuuust a bit. Or maybe not.

My life is so odd.

The word verification thing-y for a comment over at The Other Molly's blog was "grana." What an excellent thing to call a grandmother. Me likey. It'll never be as good as when Jack-Jack wants something and intones "Myyyyy GiiiiGiiiii....."

Why do these things register with me? Especially when I should be studying for my test that's in an hour.
*head desk*

Pray for my continued position on this side of sanity....barely.


Still to do:
Take Edu. Psych. Test *thumbs optimistic*
Fix the broken brake light on my car. *thumbs down*
Pack for the beach. *thumbs up*
Go to bank. *thumbs way down-I is broke.*
Catch up on TiVo. *thumbs way up*
Decide what books to read over break. *thumb neutral--It's such a hard decision.*
Beat Auburn.
Solve world hunger.
Paint my nails.

Out of the mouths of babes

A conversation at the Krispy Kreme:

Daddy leaves the table for more yummi-ness.

Jack-Jack: *leans in conspiratorially* My Gigi.....

Mom: What is it, Jack?

Jack-Jack: Sometimes......my Pop.....he says "Shoot." *shakes head*


If you only knew Jack-Jack. If, you only knew.

Author's Note: I'm guessing that the original revelation of Shoot-Gate made use of a certain other 4-letter word; and my brother found it necessary to inform the nephew that Pop was really saying "shoot."

The following is an excerpt from Joanna Goddard's Glamour blog Smitten:

My sister was dating a guy who fell in love with her bookshelf....

...They were just getting to know each other. He was hanging out at her house for the first time, when he began looking through her books. She had books on mountain climbing. She had books by Seinfeld. She had farmer's market cookbooks and old journals and touching memoirs and giant tomes, like Infinite Jest. "That's it," he said. "I loved her bookcase. I knew she was funny and adventurous and thoughtful. And, at that moment, I knew I would fall in love with her."

Two years later, they got married.

It might sound extreme, but I'm sure you book lovers out there can understand his feelings. Our books can reveal a lot about us -- our interests, the way we think, even our approach to life...

The whole concept so reminded me of....well...me. And Sals. And the other Molly. Books can show layers of ourselves that we are to frightened or embarrassed to verbalize. They can be windows to our future, our dreams, our past mistakes. For me they are often better than a movie--gasp!--because they allow that often dormant creative side of me to take over. In the midst of the tests and the busy work schedule and the grad school craziness, reading is the one time that I seem able to completely tune out the cacophony and focus.

Why oh Why......

....does Anthropologie insist on making their web images flash players---or whatever the term is, I'm not known for the tech savvy, oddly enough. The zoom thing IS every so handy to see the ever-present embroidery/details that I love so about their clothes.....however, and it's a MAJOR however. It makes it very difficult, nay impossible, to save the images to the computer in an effort to make a handy-dandy scrapbook for the Christmas Elf herself (aka Janet). If you know how to acheive this Herculian feat, please, I beg of you. Instruct. Teach. Share your innate wisdom. My Christmas list and fashion sense shall be forever in your debt.

A girl can Dream...

My pastimes of late seem to be decorating the amazingly fabulous loft I do not own and planning the wedding for which I do not have a groom. It would be sad if I wasn't so fizz-ily adorable and optimistic. Okay, maybe it's still sad AND pathetic, but you'll get over it.

It's a girl thing. It's what we do to pass the time. In the way that boys watch NASCAR...and scratch themselves. To that end I submit the following, borrowed from amongst the various creative geniuses and all-around amazing people whom I stalk here on teh internets.

Meet the flowers for the blessed day....

They go with this goooooorgeous centerpiece....


Which, incidentally, all match very well with the future Mr.Magnolia.....


And just for the record, I'm totally cool with him wearing exactly that to the ceremony.

Packin' those Expertly Labeled Boxes and Movin' Out.

After languishing at another site for a bit--starts with an l, ends with an -ivejournal--The Other Molly has inspired me in more ways than one and I'm making my way over to where the growed-ups do the blogging. No disrespect meant, ya'll.

There will probably be some re-posting of previously written stuff. And I'll thank you to shut it and read them like it's the first time, thank you very much. And of course all the amazingly creative, random, pointless things this modern belle is known to comment on with increased frequency. But for now, I'll leave you with the newest thing I covet.

In the words of the deliciously yummy Captain Wentworth.......I burn. I pine. I perish.