molls...she wrote

keeping it real klassy

nobody@vox.com(molls) — Thu, 17 Jul 2008 14:41:44 -0700

"You have never done that with anybody but me. That is a gross misrepresentation of our marriage."
- A husband on last night's repeat of Wife Swap after he's discovered that his wife was demonstrating body shotsk while on her swap.

Look. I am not here to judge (speaking of gross misrepresentations...), but if you're like, 45 years old and you and your wife are regularly doing shots, let alone body shots, I would say that yelling at her for such behavior on national television is a little out of line.

Additionally, the angry husband made his "new wife", a conservative former Military captain or something, do 1) "promotional modeling" outside of a bike store and 2) clean the house with weights on her ankles in an outfit that could only be purchased at Fredrick's of Hollywood or the like.

Did anyone else watch this episode last night? Did anyone else want to fly to whatever state those people lived in, rescue poor Glory and then take her to your house, clean her up and give her a good meal?

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let's play a game...

nobody@vox.com(molls) — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 18:31:16 -0700

Guess what this person is dressed up as...

WHO AM I???

Give up???

Dina Lohan.

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ouch

nobody@vox.com(molls) — Sun, 01 Jun 2008 09:46:45 -0700

Last night my creative director Slippy Jenkins (hahahaha) and I decided to shoot some cool shit in the installation outside of LACMA.

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Whatever we made is going to turn out fucking awesome and it should seeing as I nearly broke my arm in the process of shooting.

Photo 1158

It doesn't look as bad as it is, trust me. I am no wimp. I'm the kind of girl who wakes up with bruises and bumps regularly. I don't even noticed when I whack myself most of the time, but last night I was beasted by an art installation. Beasted. That welt is BASEBALL sized and muti-dimensional.

Today I'm going to the MTV Movie Awards with my boss which has the potential to be awesome or painful, depending on the heat and whether or not Dane Cook is there.

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confession

nobody@vox.com(molls) — Wed, 21 May 2008 09:39:18 -0700

I never watched American Idol before this season, and I only started because I am required to for work. Well, let me tell you...

I have sat here with my TiVo every Wednesday morning for like, 20-something weeks and bawled my eyes out at every single episode. It's a magical show, that American Idol. It gets me in all the right places.

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my apologies

nobody@vox.com(molls) — Mon, 19 May 2008 01:05:45 -0700

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.

this is his commercial pose

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.

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choking to death on my own vomit and other stuff

nobody@vox.com(molls) — Wed, 07 May 2008 10:51:43 -0700

I snapped this picture when I was leaving Boarders last night with my copy of Barbara Walter's Audition. It's the first book I've bought on the day it came out in... forever, if not my entire life. I only got about 50 pages in last night before I fell asleep (I was working until midnight!) but so far it's great. I will probably be discussing the book a lot as I'm reading it, which should take a hot minute because it's HUGE and I don't have time or energy for anything these days.

Kendall is coming over tonight and we're meeting with the director of our stage show. Kendall just made a UCB Harold team, Internet. My girl's a fucking big deal. You don't even know about it. Actually, that's what I was taking her headshot for (she went with the second one, for anyone who hasn't been following in the comments).

Oh, and here's this sweet video we made about being women:

Kendall & Molls: Securing a Husband (aka Finding Happiness)

Ironically, as I was preparing to post this video today, I came across this blog. I nearly choked to death on my own vomit.

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dance mance

nobody@vox.com(molls) — Wed, 23 Apr 2008 09:24:21 -0700

Even More of Ellen's Dance Crew!

Look at my friend Jim from high school dancing on Ellen! He's a PA in the writer's room and also a sick dancer. Amazersons.

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kids these days

nobody@vox.com(molls) — Tue, 08 Apr 2008 23:02:29 -0700

Kendall and I made videos tonight:

Kendall and Molls: Hair Talk

Kendall and Molls: Hurts So Good

Awesome.

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hot tranny fierceness

nobody@vox.com(molls) — Mon, 31 Mar 2008 00:51:25 -0700

Kendall and Molls: We Can't Be On Top

Kendall came over tonight and we decided to answer a question from one of our many, many viewers, Gary in Indiana. Gary, in my mental image of you, you're really hot. Keep the dream alive.

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tmfgif

nobody@vox.com(molls) — Fri, 28 Mar 2008 16:03:41 -0700

Fridayyyyyyyessssss

Thank Mother Fucking God It's Friday.

If I have to watch one more hour of television, I. Might. Kill. Myself.

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