mollycoulter.com

Well, I learned my one new thing for the day. It’s a pretty simple concept, but honestly, I didn’t know what the acronymn stood for.

"répondez s’il vous plaît" (French for please respond, in case you couldn’t figure it out.)

I figured R.S.V.P. meant something like respond so very promptly. Nah, just kidding. But I always thought it implied respond if you WILL attend. It actually asks you to respond regardless if you will attend or not.

So there you go.

I recently paid my semi-annual bill for this web site, so I figured I ought to put my money where my keyboard is.

• The older brother has been frequenting Flagstaff lately. My cousin Nikki made it up, too. I tried my best to show them a good time and ended up having a good enough time for myself for the next five years. Whew. I’ve since changed Jenny’s tag line from "we partied like it was Molly’s birthday" to "we partied like Molly’s relatives were in town." Dangerous.
• I have yet to ski this season. The mountain bears a thin layer of icey snow, so I guess I’m not missing much except some patches of dirt and trails of cinders. Clouds are hovering today, so maybe we’ll get a neccessary dusting.
• I saw an ad for an editorial assistant for a fashion magazine. I think I’m qualified. The pay is much less than I make now and the location is Manhattan, so I’d basically be scraping above the poverty level. I think I’m going to apply anyway. I bet I won’t even get a generic "Thank you for your application, but…" e-mail.
• There are a few things I can’t live without and I am happy to embrace them in my daily routine: french pressed, freshly ground coffee for my walk to work; a fully-charged battery in my iPOD; two quarters for the daily paper and a lunch break for the crossword and sudoku; and a big-ass fatty meal in the evening. I’ve been trying to add bike rides and long walks into the daily routine. Unfortunately I always end up drinking a beer at the end. I have a penchant for pale ales.
• A salary is for suckers. Especially suckers who end up with on-call weekends. What?!
• Kurt Vonnegut is God.
• My name is Molly and I’m a myspace addict.

I am officially an adult now with a grown-up job and lots of grown-up responsibilities. It sucks. Wish I was hawking goggles at the ski resort (opening today) or pouring beers at the bar. At least my days off would be days off.

I’m thinking I’ll just win the lottery, buy a mansion in Flagstaff (a cabin in Mountainaire would be nice, as well), travel the world and in five years open a bar in San Diego or Seattle or somewhere hip. Anybody in with me?

Here’s a great article.

Since 2006 apparently didn’t fit my fancy suitably I’ve flipped my world upside down for 2007. New job (well, a promotion, but a new position nonetheless), new house (This one’s a keeper. 17 moves in 6 years and I SWEAR I found the perfect home. It doesn’t look like much from the outside, but it’s a one-bedroom, free-standing haven with a wood-burning stove and a clawfoot bathtub. Yes!), new jacket. My buddy, we’ll call him GP, said I looked like a whole new woman thanks to my $15 thrift store leather jacket. It’s the shit.

Welcome 2007. I promise I will follow through with my New Years resolution that I make every year — regular flossing. And I promise I will not move… ha! Yeah right.

We have those sensor-activated toilets in the main bathroom at my workplace and they really piss me off. Every time I use the loo, mid-stream the jon flushes on me, spraying a mixture of toilet water and my own urine back up at me. So I jump up. But then I end up dripping my own urine on myself. It’s a never-ending battle. Just rip those sensors out and let us flush for ourselves.

But then you’ll transmit bacteria on the handle, you say? Well, if that’s the case, we all use the auto-timed push-down faucet on the sinks in our workplace rest room. And how do we avoid leaving trace remnants of our #1s and #2s on the push-button when it’s not timed long enough for any decent person to use soap and sufficiently rinse?

As an intrepid approach to the dangers of our bathroom, I’ve been deciphering a system to stomp out this crisis. I will now stand on the toilet and use a beer bong to funnel my #1s into the bowl. I must be careful to bend the bong tube just so, so that it will not activate the sensor.

Then, I will pump the soap into my hands using my elbow, then press the push-button, again with my elbow and scrub away. I will complete the routine by pumping the paper towel machine with, you guessed it, my elbow. Wipe, wipe, wipe. And I’m out.

You dropped in unannounced a while back.

I thought you’d stop in again soon after, but you left abruptly.

We were going to play together. I was going to dress up for you.

But you just wanted to tease me.