You Heard the Lady.
home | email | blogger |



Archives
11/01/2002 - 12/01/2002
01/01/2003 - 02/01/2003
02/01/2003 - 03/01/2003
03/01/2003 - 04/01/2003
04/01/2003 - 05/01/2003
05/01/2003 - 06/01/2003
06/01/2003 - 07/01/2003
07/01/2003 - 08/01/2003
08/01/2003 - 09/01/2003
09/01/2003 - 10/01/2003
10/01/2003 - 11/01/2003
11/01/2003 - 12/01/2003
12/01/2003 - 01/01/2004
01/01/2004 - 02/01/2004
02/01/2004 - 03/01/2004
03/01/2004 - 04/01/2004
04/01/2004 - 05/01/2004
05/01/2004 - 06/01/2004
06/01/2004 - 07/01/2004
07/01/2004 - 08/01/2004
08/01/2004 - 09/01/2004
09/01/2004 - 10/01/2004
10/01/2004 - 11/01/2004
11/01/2004 - 12/01/2004
12/01/2004 - 01/01/2005
01/01/2005 - 02/01/2005
02/01/2005 - 03/01/2005
03/01/2005 - 04/01/2005
04/01/2005 - 05/01/2005
05/01/2005 - 06/01/2005
06/01/2005 - 07/01/2005
07/01/2005 - 08/01/2005
08/01/2005 - 09/01/2005
10/01/2005 - 11/01/2005
01/01/2006 - 02/01/2006
02/01/2006 - 03/01/2006



Sunday, February 12, 2006



I stopped going to the Electrik Maid when I was sixteen because it was lame. And then I went to college.

At least, in DC, terrible live music and moshing was accompanied by slurpees. There are no slurpees in Iowa!

Molly at 5:50 PM

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

It is very warm in DC today, warm enough to not wear a coat or even a sweater. The internet and my intuition tell me that, in Iowa, it is very cold. I would have to wear not only a coat but a hat and gloves and even two pairs of pants. The great, temperate city of Washington!

Molly at 2:58 AM

Thursday, October 20, 2005



I ate here.

Molly at 3:48 PM

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

I have a new cell phone number and if you call my old one, the new number will be on the answering machine recording. Just so you know.

Molly at 1:22 PM

Thursday, August 18, 2005

I'm leaving on a jet plane.
I don't know if I’ll be back again.
Kiss me and smile for me.
Tell me that you'll wait for me.
Hold me, like you know I'll never go
Even though you know I will.
I'm a traveling man,
Moving through places, space and time.
I got a lot of things I got to do,
But in short I'm coming back to you, baby-boo.
I'm a traveling man,
Moving through places, space and time.
I got a lot of things I got to do,
but God willing I'm coming back to you, back to you.
I'm leaving.
I'll be back, to you.
I'm leaving.
I'll be back, to you.

All over the world.
We go, DC all over the world.
We go, VA all over the world.
We go, the Cakalacks all over the world.
We go, London all over the world.
We go, Japan. We go over the world.
We go, Paris. We go over the world, we go.


Because Mos Def said so.

Molly at 2:19 AM

Monday, August 15, 2005

Three gunshots outside my building, two bodies in ambulances. This is the second shooting in two years.

Iowa suddenly seems a little more appealing.

Molly at 2:20 AM

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

I do a lot of reading at work and, probably while alphabetizing check out cards, I stumbled upon this gem.
Erica Timmerman realized she didn't care about trying to be hip anymore when, at age 30, her doctor told her she had thyroid cancer. The diagnosis annihilated her ambitions to be a walking pop culture encyclopedia or to cultivate a pose of ironic detachment. Cancer, after all, doesn't respond to wisecracks. The now 40-year-old Silver Lake resident has felt pressure since adolescence to be considered cool. That pressure, along with her cancer, is now in remission.
No, I suppose cancer doesn't respond to wisecracks. It was a bizarre article.

Molly at 1:10 PM

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Best / Worst Art History Joke of All Time

Baroque (adj.):
When you are out of Monet.

Molly at 4:26 PM

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

There is nothing so self indulgent as Woody Allen one acts. And boy, were they.

I would see them again!

Molly at 11:54 PM

Friday, July 15, 2005

Into the woods.

I haven't even gotten there and I already have poison ivy.

Molly at 12:07 PM

Friday, July 08, 2005

Reading the Washington City Paper on my lunch break. From Jason Cherkis's article on the current state of music criticism:

We’re left with this sad fact: The only high-profile rock criticism consistently worth reading can be found in a magazine whose mascot is a fop looking at a butterfly through a monocle.
Speaking of which, the New Yorker recently profiled a longtime (since 1999) favorite of mine, the Mountain Goats, and called him/them "America's greatest non-hip-hop lyricist." It's a pleasant affirmation for my thirteen year old self's musical taste.

Molly at 1:35 PM

Thursday, July 07, 2005

During the course of the Herculean task of cleaning house, I stumbled upon my very first publication, a collection of short stories that was very neatly compiled in the middle of my 3rd grade year. I was eight. Here, for your viewing pleasure, are two excerpts:

PREFACE

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls!! Open your eyes and your brain. Be prepared to be amazed with the greatest book in the universe! This book will include stories about my family and friends...and you will LOVE IT!!!!!

(Seven chapters later.)

GOING TO CHURCH
Every Sunday my family and I go to Holy Trinity Church in Georgetown.

Holy Trinity has lots of beautiful stained glass windows. We sit on a bench called a pew. The kneeling stool is between each pew and it's made of maroon velvet.

When we go in the church we sit in the back. Mom, Dad, and I sit quietly during the mass. Jake and Eamon, however, sing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" and wiggle and jiggle like little worms.

After mass we go to the doughnut room where we buy doughnuts. We also chat with other church members.

After we eat the doughtnuts we go to CCD classes (which are classes in religion). But that's another story.

Molly at 8:59 PM

Monday, June 20, 2005

Three separate jobs in two weeks and I feel like a single mother.

Molly at 8:12 AM

Saturday, June 11, 2005

These magic moments:

Monique on breaking the language barrier: "It wasn't really a torrid affair, we just exchanged meaningful glances and made out in the walk-in-freezer."

My uncle John on my school: "Grinnell, isn't that Beowulf's mother?"

A nine hour graduation party wouldn't be the same without a crab run or betting on the horses.

Molly at 11:09 PM

Sunday, June 05, 2005

This air is like soup and sitting here is like sitting in a warm bath. I think it is wonderful.

I am packing away all my things again between the graduation parties and rehearsals. I am back in DC in a matter of days. Anyway--

The Worst Pick Up Ever:

The couple met in May 2003, in a hotel ballroom in Washington, where Ms. Yates had come to accept a student scholarship awarded to her school by an insurance company.

Mr. Lizárraga was in Washington working for the Pentagon. All the tables were filled by the time Ms. Yates arrived. She saw a space at a cocktail table where Mr. Lizárraga and a friend were standing and asked if she could join them. Mr. Lizárraga flirtatiously said there was always room for a pretty woman such as herself.

Ms. Yates replied, ''Oh, you can't be too sure these days, like in the 'Crying Game,''' she remembered.

Mr. Lizárraga replied with assurance and a broad smile, ''You're not a man,'' he recalled.

And they lived happily ever after.

Molly at 11:11 PM