molls...she wrote

thrilling conclusions

nobody@vox.com(molls) — Wed, 16 Jul 2008 10:37:53 -0700

"I fully saw a pregnant woman's vajayjay at BLD once. She was wearing a short dress and kept putting her feet up on her chair and it was like AAAAH!" - Alexis Hyde.

Sometimes nature is fucking gross.

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i'm hard on ichat crime

nobody@vox.com(molls) — Fri, 22 Feb 2008 00:48:06 -0800

Picture 2

So, I was ribbing my friend Tom from improv class (and by "ribbing" I mean "being an asshole to", because as I post and reread this, I see what a horrible monster-person I sound like. An honest monster-person, but a horrible one. Fuck! Gotta work on that!) because he really truly isn't the best at chatting online. Now, you have to understand that this would be trivial if it wasn't the main way I communicate these days. It's all we use for work to communicate. Hearing a co-workers voice is as rare as taking a shower, which should sound like an inaccurate comparison, but disgustingly*, it's not.

This is what I mean when I say someone is "bad" at chatting online:

1) They disappear for hours on end without so much as a "BRB" and when they return LONG after you've given up on them and closed the window, a new box pops up on your screen with the words "haha" in response to whatever you last wrote. No frame of reference. Annoyingston, Maryland.
2) After every time they return, they feel the need to do the whole "hey, what's up?" thing, as if anything changed for you while they were in the bathroom. Maybe it did, but leave it up to the other person to mention it. Otherwise we're just wasting time we could be using to shit talk our mutual friends.
3) Insist upon continuing the exact same conversation every time you chat.

That's just the tip of the iceberg, but I'm tired and I feel like a bitch. I'm going to bed now.

* For you, that is.

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i ate about 20 pieces of chocolate in 24 hours

nobody@vox.com(molls) — Wed, 20 Feb 2008 15:27:05 -0800

i ate everything but the krackle and special dark (gross!)

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a conversation between friends

nobody@vox.com(molls) — Mon, 11 Feb 2008 11:52:22 -0800

yeah, clearly.

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a conversation between friends

nobody@vox.com(molls) — Wed, 06 Feb 2008 12:58:44 -0800

mindfreak

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excuse the lack of sense-making

nobody@vox.com(molls) — Thu, 17 Jan 2008 13:23:44 -0800

The key factor in my working from home is that I never work from bed. I pretend that I go to work everyday at my house like my desk is actually ten miles away in Santa Monica like it used to be rather than ten feet from my bed. I never lay down after I start my day and try and stay out of bed until I go to sleep at night because otherwise I will never get any good sleep ever. I'll get that feeling of being too used to my bed, which is what happened in college when I would spend like six hours a day writing in the same spot I slept.

But the last two weeks I've been working non-stop (it feels that way at least) and I feel like I'm about to hit the wall that I've never hit before. Today I made the mistake of laying in my bed for five minutes. I didn't fall asleep, but now I know how good it feels to eat a sandwich and then lay in my bed for five minutes around 1:45 on a Thursday, and that feeling could be more addictive than my beloved Marlboro Lights.

And I would also blame my exhaustion for this exchange between me and one of the editors:

Picture 1

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no, you're my bitch

nobody@vox.com(molls) — Wed, 16 Jan 2008 18:57:46 -0800

Picture 1

Or maybe I'm his, actually:

Picture 2

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you've got a great face

nobody@vox.com(molls) — Tue, 15 Jan 2008 23:08:10 -0800

fag newton

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just trying to stay in the loop

nobody@vox.com(molls) — Wed, 09 Jan 2008 12:52:59 -0800

"So... are you seeing any special boys in LA? Or special girls?"
- My mother.

This is something she said to me my last day in Boston when I was home for the holidays. This isn't the first time she's said something like this to me, which I always feels puts me in this place where I have to reiterate that I am not, in fact, a lesbian. I immediately feel guilty for wanting to clarify that because I know that that's just her way of letting me know that everything would be chill with her if I did decide to bring home a boyfriend named Marla next year. That's kind of nice and supportive of her.

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a message from a shovelhead

nobody@vox.com(molls) — Sat, 05 Jan 2008 18:00:28 -0800

This was on my gchat when I woke up this morning:

click image twice to enlarge

It's so tiny, I'll translate:

"I had a dream last night where you were a crooked LA cop and I was on a ridealong (but for some reason I was driving and your cop car was a convertible) and you pulled a guy over and made him bribe you with press-on nails."

What do you think that means?

It's almost always nice to be dreamed of, though.

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