Picture Post

Confession: I just synched my iPhone's photos for the first time since before I went to New York to visit Jen. In early March. So here are some poorly lit photos of things that I felt the need to document these past months.

1. I love making fun of vanity plates--especially those which describe the person who feels the need to get a vanity plate.

 2. Hands down, the creepiest puzzle piece I have ever seen: 

3. It was a sad day for Portland.

4. This sign would be something I would do if I were in local government. Sometimes 10 minutes is too short of a time period and 15 is just too long.

5. That's what she said? Gross.

6.  What is more disconcerting than a bunch of mannequins? (Especially the armless ginger kid one with a smile straight out of a horror film.) (Although, I bet these kids have great parties when they come to life at night, à la Today's Special and Mannequin.) (I really like parentheses.)

7. Apparently this is a consequence of a fun-filled weekend with Reem in town.

8. Riding in cars with Shara. I'm short, I don't need any leg room. It's fine.

9. One stop shopping defined--as found in The Oregonian.

10. I'm not sure what makes me most uncomfortable about this picture, the tiger rug or the naked man's beehive. Toss up.

11. I am very troubled by this as well. I love it when people anthropomorphize animals and then eat them, but this goes further: all the way to sexualization. Always keepin' in classy!

12. This is also classy. Specifically since I found it in my grandparents' cabinet. Classy and awkward.

13. You didn't know I was such a bad ass, did you? (Please disregard the logic that if I were actually going 88 and not 2 MPH the photo would be super blurry.)

14. Because I'm not a huge fan of the scent I would never buy it. I was going to steal this from my grandmother's collection because it is such a classic. Apparently, my cousin didn't like that plan and "accidentally" dropped it, along with the rest of grandmother's perfumes. This is the only one I was interested in. It is the only one that broke. I'm not bitter, Jill, really. 

15. A student and I spent about three periods one week working on this puzzle as a geography review, only to find out at the very end we were missing several pieces. What is happening with Greece and surrounding countries?? Where are Ecuador and Chile supposed to be? I guess we'll never know. Thanks for nothing jigsaw puzzle!

Karaoke

Recently some of my friends and I discovered that we had not been karaoke-ing since Shara's birthday in April. That adventure took place at a kooky bar at the coast that was h.o.p.p.i.n.'. Sometimes I am not good at making decisions. It took me about 40 minutes with one of the karaoke song books to pick out "I'll Be There" by the Jackson 5. Come on, Molly! My friends who are so patient and kind were starting to get a little frustrated with me, so much so that they suggested maybe I should pick out a song and just have it ready for the next time we go.

I have very specific karaoke song criteria, which is how it takes me 40 minutes to choose one mediocre song.

1. Song cannot be too long. No "American Pie." No "Free Bird"
2. Song must not have longer than 4 measures of instrumental business at a time. Long guitar solos are awkward.
3. Song can't be too repetitive, especially at the end. It should end cleanly. ("Midnight Train to Georgia," I'm looking at you.)
4. I must know the song. ("Motownphilly" burned me before.)
5. Song must be popular enough that people know it, but not so popular that everyone ever knows all of the words and/or are sick of it. 
6. I have to sound at least pretty good singing it.

So, it took some time, but I decided I would perform one of my favorite songs, "Don't Stop Me Now" by Queen at our next karaoke outing. Then Rebel Wilson decided to sing it for her TV show (is it still on?) and now I'm out of luck. Thanks unfunny blonde Australian! We planned a karaoke outing for tomorrow, and I have to come up with some ideas in the next 24 hours.

Pat Benatar? Bruno Mars? Ke$ha? Nancy Sinatra? The BeeGees? The options are literally endless.   I only know that I'm not allowed to do Melanie's "Brand New Key."  Man oh man. My life is so hard.

Falling

I came to the conclusion in September when something truly mortifying happened to me at work, that I was thrilled to be working at a middle school simply for the reasoning that in a middle school, all of the students are even more self-conscious and self-obsessed than people generally are, and chances are pretty good they won't pay any attention to the embarrassment that is befalling someone else, at least not for very long.
I was reminded of this item to be added to my things for which I am grateful list today, when right after lunch I was playing on an indo board--I should back up. We decided to do a science experiment with different kinds of balance boards, one for skateboarding, one for snowboarding and one for surfing. I am the owner of the one for snowboarding, and am pretty good at that. I'm not someone who falls off of stuff, generally. I never fell on ice skates or roller skates or my bike. I'm not saying I never fall down. One time in college I fell down walking in a cross walk. I slipped on/tripped over...oh that's right nothing. I just fell down, as some cars stopped to let me cross. It was hilarious.* But back to today, I hopped on this made for surfing indo board, and was playing around, started talking to some of the kids, and got distracted from the fact that it was significantly taller than I was used to and crashed to the ground. I immediately got back on, because there were so many people in this room I couldn't not.

I'm fine, my shoulder, hip and ego are bruised, but I'm fine. It was pretty funny. And it didn't hold a candle to the truly mortifying thing from September, which I will never document ever, don't even ask. I will however tell you, so you can laugh at me if you want, if you ask nicely.

*For everyone else.

have you heard: chromeo

I've loved Chromeo since Ashley played me a few songs while we were driving around DC a million years ago. I am so in to their new song! 

cliché girl

I am pretentious. It's just sort of how I roll. Sometimes I am reminded just how unsubstantiated my pretense actually is.

As I was trying to catch up on episodes of The Voice (1) this long weekend, I fell in LOVE with Say Something (2). It helps that I've been an anxiety ridden, emotional wreck for about a month, but this song is awesome for me right now.



Then, Becky lent me a copy of "The Fault in Our Stars" and told me to read it.  I started it without realizing it was a YA novel. I started it without knowing it was about teenagers with cancer. Had I known either of those things I probably would have written it off as some saccharine, Nicholas Sparks-esque business.* I started it knowing only that Becky hoped I would like it. I devoured it in a few hours last Thursday. (3) I now want to read everything that John Green has written. Fan girl. (4)

I've also been really in to Tegan & Sara's newest album. (5) And I feel like such a tool about that because it is way poppier than all of their other albums. I have and like them; I just don't love them as much as I love, love this album. (6) Keep it poppy! Keep it snappy!



So cliché.

*I've still never been able to sit through The Notebook, despite Goslovin being in it. I guess I'm not a real girl yet.

Don't do Molly.

Ever since Miley's "We Can't Stop" it seems like Molly (mdma) is everywhere. I mean I know that it has been around for years, but now it seems to be everywhere. I don't think it helps that I have gone to a few shows recently of DJs where kids think it is a rave and bring their glow sticks, pacifiers,  fuzzy boots, and various levels of scantily clad-ness, along with their drugs.

At the first show, Zedd, a few weeks ago Shara, Paul, Jeremy and I were just there to get our dance on. I don't think Shara and I knew what we were getting ourselves in to. I kept asking Paul questions about these kids making poor life decisions. "Why do they have pacifiers?" "What's with the vicks vapor rub?" I think it was a fascinating anthropological experience* for Shara and I, almost like a modern day Dante's Inferno--we were getting a guided tour of at least one level of hell.** The one thing about Paul versus Virgil as a tour guide is that when you ask him, "what's the deal with the lights?" he gets a creepy guy with a mirrored mask, a fuzzy hat and glowy gloves to come do the glowy hands thing in my face. Shara got her phone and recorded the whole thing. It was hilarious. I didn't want to be rude, but I also didn't want to extend the agony any longer than necessary, so I pandered to him. After what seemed like an eternity, he took off his mask and had the most self-congratulatory face, "you're welcome." "Thanks."

At one point, Shara and I were sitting down hydrating and we couldn't hear each other without shouting, so we texted back and forth what has probably been the funniest text conversation in quite some time. Mostly it was talking about the people doing edibles, or being gross, or crazy.

I say fascinating anthropological experience, and I mean it. Truthfully, before this happened, I'd never seen coke in real life, let alone see someone spill a bunch on the ground, and still consider ingesting some of it. Ground cocaine is the best kind of cocaine, I guess. When Paul and Shara told me about another concert on Saturday night, I was game. Shara and I were armed with light up rings, and ready to get our jumping up and down on. The crowd at this show, maybe because it was 21+, was way classier.*** There were about 5 people dressed like rave kids (all who were older than me,) and then a hundred others just there to get their dance on.  Way more awesome.

At both shows, there was a lot of joking about my name.**** Shara and I thought we heard someone else who's name was Molly, and I said, "let's talk to her!" so Shara yelled out "Molly!" in close proximity a few times, and she did not turn around, so she was either really not paying attention or it was people talking about drugs. Don't do drugs.

Paul sent me this in my spotify inbox and I laughed heartily. The lyrics are typical Molly talk, both of me and the drug. It speaks only of the fun times, and not of the debilitating lack of serotonin the drug and I leave you with for days afterward.




*I took notes. Literally. One guy had a huge tattoo on each of his arms. One arm said, "When you are suffering" then the other said, "know that I have betrayed you." Classy.  And at one point, I started clapping, and then as if by magic, (or mob mentality, the two are so intertwined) the hundreds of other people in this venue were clapping with me. People... what are you going to do with them?
**Does that sound like I'm condemning those people?
***Excluding one specific group: one guy, three girls. The girls would cycle through, one at a time and grind all over the guy. At first we were confused, then we quickly realized they must be in a polygamous relationship. 
****No Irish prostitute talk this time. Just drugs.

caffeine and adultery

Caffeine and I have a very strained relationship--it amplifies my anxiety and keeps me up far too late, but I also like to use it sometimes as a stimulant. Today was a day that I would have very much appreciated some caffeine. With that mission in mind, I set out with Nancy and Juan Carlos at lunch. We decided to hit a drive thru for them and a Starbucks inside of an Albertson's for me.

As I walked in to the Albertson's, leaving my coworkers in the car to their Burgerville,  it became very apparent that the couple with exceedingly poor taste* meeting up near where I was walking were having an affair with one another. "That's disappointing,"** I thought, but then headed toward the Starbucks kiosk. I suppose, (perhaps due to my preference for an appropriate amount of personal space, specifically when strangers are concerned,) I wasn't standing close enough to the person who was placing their drink order to show that I was in fact in line, but this oblivious couple cut in front of me. This aggravated me immensely. I try very hard to not inconvenience or perturb people around me, and I expect others to do the same. (Case in point: I will wait until the next exit if I've been an idiot and not gotten in the correct lane on the freeway. This might surprise some as I can act like a total bitch, but at no point do I feel like me and my business are more important than anyone else's. These people apparently do not share my beliefs.***) I didn't make a fuss. What would be the point of that? True I was in a hurry, but I thought, "my drink requires like no work at all...it'll be fine." Being behind them, I was forced to witness their awkward and very forced middle-aged PDA, which I must say was a real inconvenience.

It is true that my drink of choice at Starbucks takes about 20 seconds to prepare. But, despite the fact that this immoral, ugly haired woman only ordered regular no frills coffee, she hemmed and hawed over her pastry decision for probably 2 minutes. Finally, after much consultation, she decided on what vaguely resembled a cinnamon roll and asked for it to be heated up. With a great deal of sincere regret the barista informed her that in their kiosk they didn't have anything to heat up pastries with. Ugly hair was really upset. She then asked if there was a break room or somewhere that this barista could go to heat up her snack. I would be showing a great deal of restraint to say I was simply gobsmacked by this request. And when the barista complied I thought I would need smelling salts. The couple took a seat at a nearby table before picking up their drinks, so the barista poured the coffee, left the kiosk to drop off the coffee to the table before getting the cinnamon roll out of the case.

The barista looked at me apologetically and said in her best customer service voice, "I'll be right with you," and jogged off, cinnamon roll in hand. Suffice it to say, I opted to not wait and did not have any caffeine - which is probably for the best as it is currently almost 2 am and I am still wide awake.

The thing I found most shocking about this whole scenario - not to minimize my consternation at their flaunting of their affair, the fact that they had their tryst at least partly in a grocery store, their blatant line cutting, or the ridiculously self-centered request to heat up a cinnamon roll in an employee break room microwave for crying out loud- is that this couple did not tip this girl. I don't think the barista only decided to be nice because she thought she might get something out of it - as I hope that isn't the sole motivation for anyone to be nice...but seriously? When you are so difficult and ask for so many (some would say absolutely inappropriate) accommodations, you should at the very least be nice about it!****

*Not even taking into account their affair. She had 90s permed hair with a badly bleached two-toned color job: platinum blonde on the crown and a darker orangey grossness on the hair underneath to say nothing of the circa 2004 outfit. He wore camouflage and shorts, despite the very chilly and rainy weather, paired with pristine construction boots and tall wool socks.  

**Both the aesthetic choices made and their immoral behavior.

***In the importance of aesthetic choices, moral behavior or social interaction.

****If I was her stylist and she didn't tip me, I'd absolutely turn her hair the non-pretty/non-natural-ginger-orange that her hair is currently and then tell her how amazing it looked. "That color looks fabulous on you, especially paired with the tonally dissonant platinum on top! It really *ahem* flatters you. The only thing that could improve this would be a perm à la every tween and Suzanne Somers from 1992!"

NocheTussin

I have officially finally caught up* on New Girl for this season, and I have to say, I am actively disappointed. I miss season one levels of funny. The Jess/Nick thing is ridiculous. Schmidt and Winston were once the reason I watched the show, now Winston does puzzles and dates his cat and when was the last time Schmidt did something worthy of the douchebag jar and dating both of those girls at the same time? Weak sauce.

I miss shows that are funny. I miss Happy Endings. For moments like this (specifically the first two minutes.):





*When a coworker and I were talking about tv recently I told her that I hadn't had time to watch any of New Girl or The Voice, two shows that we talked about last year pretty consistently. I told her I'd get on it, when one of the 8th graders informed me that it is possible to go in to your DVR and set up a series recording so the DVR records all of the episodes for you. I wanted to say, "I know you little Chachi brat, now get out of here!" What I said instead was, "Oh, I know. I'm recording them, I just haven't had time to watch them."

have you heard: days are short playlist

Les voisins gênant: Reality Check

A few weeks back, one of my grandparents' neighbors saw me at their house, chatted me up and invited me over for a "reality check." Immediately I regretted not being quite skilled enough with my evasive maneuvers and able to avoid the entire interaction. Then I thought, "I'm an overly anxious 30 year old with health issues, no career, working in a job that isn't even close to what I want to do with my life, being hit on by at 36 year old who's never not lived in his parents' basement, did not (to my knowledge) get a degree and who has at least one illegitimate child. That's quite enough reality for me, thank you." Out of curiosity I asked him, "what do you mean by a reality check?" He came back with, "a whiskey or tequila." I thanked him, declined and told him, "it's not as bad as all that," and went back inside. 

Sometimes I feel badly about wanting to avoid certain people and interactions. But only sometimes.