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Hey! You can tell me I look like I smell like cat urine, you can tell me I'm a poor Diablo Cody knock off... but don't you dare bring my genitalia into this, mother fucker.
Thanks but no thanks.
I should start by saying that I never thought I'd be the kind of person to apologize for not posting in their blog enough ("PARDON ME, BUT I'VE LEFT THE HOUSE TO GO GET A FUCKING LIFE"), but I do feel that I have been seriously neglecting this whole blogging thing these days. It's important to me that everyone know my every move because I am a self-obsessed famewhore, so I'm going to make a better effort to update more during the day.
I have some big things going on in my life right now (all of which I am hesitant to discuss, so use your imagination based off of these two hints: 1) rubber dog nipples, 2) lavender scented bubble bath), but I've decided I will share with you the recent additions to the infamous "Awesome Things That Molly McAleer Loves List"
1) Beverly Hills 90210 - I wouldn't be surprised if the return of this series has anything to do with my recent obsession with the original, seeing as I am the hub of the Cool Universe. I definitely loved this show as a child (Fun Fact: I learned about rape from 90210 and for many years, thought rape and sex were the exact same thing. This will probably disturb my mother more than anyone else who reads this) but since July I have been all up in it again, devouring the DVD sets like pickled moose fetuses. (Additional Fun Fact: An ex of mine called me as I was writing this and asked what I was doing. When I told him I was watching 90210, he did the whole "OK, I'm going to hang up now" bit. Classic bit. Totally classic. I love men. So. Much.)
2) Lying About a Medical Disorder to Get Your Dog Into the Supermarket - The other day I went into Ralph's to get an iced coffee, and since I was walking Wags at the time, I knew that if I wanted to get him in I'd have to hold him in my arms and act as quickly as possible to get in and out without being asked to leave or tie him up outside (to me this is like tying an 8 month old baby to a leash wrapped around a bike rack. You'd have to be insane to do this, especially if your dog is of Top Model status the way Wagandstuff is.) So, I cradle him in my arms and walk directly to the Coffee Bean section and ordered my iceroonie. Just as I was putting milk in my drink and about to leave, a manager walked up to me and asked me if Wagandstuff is a service dog. I remembered that my friend Jim told me that legally, if you say you have a service dog, no one-- a store manager, the police, ANYONE-- is allowed to ask you what your condition is. I looked him dead in the eye and said "Yes he is. I have had service dogs my entire life" and then he put up his hands as if to apologize and walked away. Hey, System? I've fucking beaten you. I've beaten you so badly that no amount of make up is going to keep your co-workers from worrying about you and your home situation. WIN: MOLLS.
3) The Echoplex - I've been a fan of this venue for awhile, but this week I'm going to see two of my favorite new bands, The French Kicks and M83 there (if you see me at either show, please come say hi. I'll be handing out free fist pounds). Parking is easy to find, the drinks aren't too expensive, the smoking section is huge and the atmosphere is usually very friendly. Also, it's near the Brite Spot, so you can totally have late night munchies served to you by 80 year old women who somehow manage to hustle all night long. I expect to be dead by 45 from exhaustion, so this is an extremely impressive thing for me to witness. And I love waffles.
OK, I'm off to bed now to go dream about looking at myself in the mirror.
I LOVE YOU.
Also, Kendall and I answered a question from our main internet bitch, saraliz:
That's the most you will ever hear me say on this topic, BTW.
1) I am pretty awesome at taking photographs
2) I have a beautiful son
A woman (and Wagandstuff Superfan) who I have had the pleasure of meeting through my blog is one of the five or so people I torture daily by making her watch my Defamer To Do videos before they go up. She knows she's supposed to tell me if I look like a fucking asshole, more or less.
Today she got the preview of my post and asked me if my intro song is "How Will I Know?" by Whitney Houstin. Good call, but no, it's actually "She'z In Control" by Chromeo, one of my favorite bands of the last year or so. I'll post the song below, and remember: if you ever want to steal any of my music, read this blog in RSS. There's an option to open it as a Quicktime file in Google Reader, and from there you can make the file yours. BUT BUY THE ALBUM IF YOU LIKE IT! Everything I said yesterday still stands!
She & Him is the fucking best. New fave. Downloaded half the album last week and then just bought the whole deal today at Amoeba. That's right! I buy music, people! You should too! Slippy said he thought Amoeba would be closed within 5 years because of downloadable music taking over.
Look. Look in my eyes. This is important: Don't let that happen.
If my teenage kid doesn't have a local record store where he and his friends can hang out and talk shit about me and his father, well then I will up and invest all of my time and money into time travel technology so that I can go back and abort that poor child as soon as I have a chance. I don't know if I can bring children into such a world.
I know music is expensive, but I think it's one of those things that, as long as you're not buying compulsively, you will never regret having it. There have been a lot of shirts I have spent money on that have, in retrospect, not flattered my figure and have been plain ol fucking ugly. Even an old Will Smith CD isn't entirely regrettable.
I have just come home to see that my bike has been stolen.
Hey, Los Angeles? Fuck you.
Fuck you and your big dumb face.
You will cry hot tears into your pillow for the vicious ways you have mistreated me.
Also, fuck that horrible Lisa Loeb wannabe that yelled at me in front of Birds tonight. Your biggest disappointment in life, fake Lisa Loeb, will most likely be that there is not enough asshole for you to consume on the planet earth and because of that I feel sorry for you. Seriously, I have spent some time with myself wondering how I could treat women better as another woman and potentially advance mankind, and you my dear, are bringing down the heard. Fuck off and die, you evil, evil subhuman species. I hope whoever that "important person" you were bragging about having in front of the bar knows he is sleeping with a woman-hating, threatened, tired bitch who makes it her business to hate upon the awesomeness of others.
Eat a dick and die,
Molly Caithlin McAleer
I've been trying to figure out what kind of voice this hedgehog has. Maybe like an LOLCat kind of voice? Or like an old timey newsman kind of voice? Or maybe like a Barry White voice, just to juxtapose his little body? He kind of looks old and wise, but there's definitely youth radiating from his spirit. It's a tough call.
That's what sucks about this picture. Now I know this hedgehog exists, but I also know that he and I will never, ever meet. That's going to rip me apart inside. I don't know what kind of voice he actually has and I never will know because he's off somewhere in his part of the world and I'm over here in mine. We won't cross paths. It's highly unlikely anyway. Even if we did, he wouldn't know to say hi. I am one of many admirers.
Suddenly, I am angry with the person who has shared this photo with me. I was better off not knowing. I was happy when I was ignorant.
