fighting off the #januaries

no amounts of coffee can cure the #januaries.
no amounts of mustard can cure the #januaries.
no amounts of botched hole-in-the-middles can cure the #januaries.
even mia, at 6 years old, fears the #januaries.

if we examine why january sucks so much, it shouldn't be that difficult {in theory} to combat this mega-awful month that is worse than all of the mondays in the world combined. it's simple: we just need some really awesome made-up holidays. if your birthday is in january, you don't count, go away, everyone is jealous. but for the other approximately eleven twelfths of us, here are some ideas to combat the #januaries:

national at least i meant to shower day
national eat overcooked ramen and dunkaroos in your bathtub day
national pick your nose but not in public because that's still gross day
national buy the prettiest smelling lotion day, actually this should come before national at least i meant to shower day so you have a cover up, you know?
national entenmann's and nacho cheese and what is a vegetable day
national look at this website day:
national write a letter to someone you idolized in fifth grade day
national watch all of the heath ledger movies day

ok i've expended too much energy just thinking of these and am ready to go back to bed. until february. 


the chrismukkuh list

well, hanukkah came and went, didn't it? like, i barely even had time to put my non-existent halloween costume away. but it doesn't matter that this list is coming late because it's pretty much fictional. my real chrismukkuh list includes things like computer software, lighting devices... we don't need to get into it. so here's just my list of fun cool things that would take a time machine or an alternate universe or just a faster metabolism to make happen:

empire mayo: imagine the kind of pimpy b.l.t. i could make with orange clove mayo or the white truffle mayo. the rolls-royce with phat rims b.l.t., that's what.
a chicken coop: you'd think we'd have figured it out by now, with the amount of dozens of eggs that this apartment goes through on a daily basis. but just think how much easier life would be with little eunice, errol, and ewan laying their little hearts out in a mustard colored coop up on the roof.
a rooftop amphitheater. 
an easy bake oven: or rather, an entire wall of my apartment lined with them so that melissa and i can open the easy bake bake shop.
a summery boozy brunch at longman + eagle, in chicago: complete with a stoop, a mr. stoop, and a pbr with my scrambled eggs.  
for the 96th street taco truck to materialize in south brooklyn.
for hot dogs and marzipan and all things fried cheese to be at the bottom of the food pyramid.


meet gretchen.

last weekend i adopted the most beautiful little piano and named her gretchen. seven pounds, a million ounces, she's a honey among dijons, the light of my aural life. but molly, you don't even play the piano and you nearly failed piano class. i know, i know, she's not for me. {well sometimes she is, like last night when the internet went out and my evening turned into a hashing through of bach fugues and beatles tunes.} gretchen is here mostly because one big part of my fantasy world involves days spent cooking in my sunny kitchen while eggboy or any of my other friends practice or write songs or rehearse in my living room. and also so that after a long delicious dinner my guests and i can sit with a glass of laphroaig and do a tipsy sing-along of mozart and cee lo green.  gretchen better primp herself because she's going to be leading an active social life here in brooklyn. *cue the stage mom tendencies.*



this weekend we became amplified versions of our twelve-year-old selves as we ate grilled cheese and tomato soup and bopped along to ben folds. in between the non existent reveille and an infinite curfew we learned krav maga and did flips on the trapeze. we even performed a flashmob. soccer games, volleyball games, drinking games... and let's not forget those killer sweet dance moves and the s'mores competitions that you won every time. if this is what grown ups do, who needs a childhood?