The Linguist

The Linguist - Marcus. We made a plan to meet for drinks at the Kimberly Hotel. As I am hustling over to the bar in a cab, I get a call from him that the Kimberly is closed for a private party and we should meet at Houstons instead. Seriously? Houstons? It's not actually called Houstons anymore, but it's essentially the same thing.

I wait at the bar. I watch him come in, and look feverishly around, trying to find me. One of the simple joys I find with blind dates. He finds me, says Ciao and kisses me on both cheeks. Did I mention that Marcus is a nerdy Jewish boy from Manhattan?

We decide to change locations, and head to the Four Seasons which is also closed for a private party. Slightly deflated, Marcus continues to tour me around the midtown hotel scene, showing me around as if I'm a tourist, speaking a few different languages as he goes along. We settle on Bull & Bear at the Waldorf.

It is here, as I gulp dirty martinis, that Marcus enlightens me to the Vesper Martini, the chosen drink of 007. Then I learn that Marcus speaks Portugese, Spanish, and some other language. I stopped paying attention at this point, especially since I didn't understand what he was saying to me. What possesed this man to start speaking languages I couldn't understand and why did he think this was a selling point?

As he double kisses me goodnight and mumbled something else in another language, he shuts the cab door on this evening. Arrivederci! Adios! Adieux! Boa noite!

Dating or Work?

There is a lot of talk about how you approach dating should be how you approach your job. I get this on an intellectual level, but as a therapist, in practical application, I should not be doing therapy on a date, but sometimes it is just inevitable.

Last night, I went on what I hope to be my last Match.com date, for the specific reason that they seem to get worse and worse. Jon came to meet me for margaritas - tequila should make everything better, right? He comes in exasperated and very distraught, sits down at the bar and instantly starts off with how much he hates blind dates and how terrible Match.com is, believing it unfairly judges him. I sense his anxiety and switch into therapist mode, working to disarm his anxiety and get him feeling more comfortable in this "holding space."

He refuses to talk about his work, swearing he will not let it define him (he's an investment banker). He talks about how he hates being positive and is about to "break up" with his therapist, asking for my opinion on this.

I have enough whiny, depressing people I have to listen to all day, the last thing I need is to do this on my dates too. No matter how many margaritas!

Brace Yourself...

As I write this, I need to put it out there, that the continued string of great material a.k.a bad dates, has led me to cancel my Match.com membership. Brian added to this, as did the comment from my sister as to "where do I meet these guys."

So Brian and I messaged back and forth via Match.com. Nice guy, 35 years old, lawyer, good family, you know... the usual. He set the date for Slainte on the Bowery on a Thursday evening. A lovely little Irish bar that I had passed many a time. I was a little tired but powering through, as I am getting ready I hear my phone ding. A message from Brian...

"I should warn you that I had braces put on my lower teeth this week. I feel like an adolescent"

What the hell am I supposed to do with that? I obviously can't cancel on him now! I try to neutralize, as any good therapist would, making a joke about a corn on the cob eating contest. I get to the bar, which is invaded with sports teams, seriously, we are the only ones not in matching jerseys in from the local kickball game. And there is brace face.

It wasn't all that bad. I probably wouldn't have noticed. He was clearly uncomfortable. I continued to make little jokes, and then asked - Why now? Why get braces now. My mistake (especially before a cocktail)! He proceeds to tell me about his jaw issues and his head gear, rubber bands and wax. The conversation never gets better. I down two Abita Purple Haze (best part of the evening) and let him know it was nice meeting him.

Best to you, Brace Face!!

Mr. Vanilla Vanilla

I met a very nice guy on Match.com who seemed nice enough and had a quick and witty email banter,(isn't it sad that this becomes a bonus?) Our first date was fun, drinks on the Lower East Side although he was little quiet and nervous. I figured, why not try one more date, see what happens.

He takes me to Sweet Revenge (www.sweetrevengenyc.com), a great little cupcake spot in the West Village. They pair amazing artisan cupcakes with wine and beer. Coming from the gym and also being a girl that wants to eat, I was hoping for dinner on our second date, but cupcakes and wine it was. I begin to realize that this boy is kind of a zero. He really has little to add to the conversation, is very nervous, and not all that exciting. This thought it punctuated by his order of a vanilla vanilla cupcake. I mean really, they have the most spectacular options, and this guy, orders the most plain cake he can find.

I might not be the most exciting person in the world, but know I am definitely not vanilla vanilla. By the way, I ordered the Sweet Revenge - Peanut Butter Cake, Ganache Filling with Peanut Butter Fudge Frosting. Yum.

The guy who made me microwave fish...

So this little fish tail had such promise! The back story: Met a good catch at the break fast for Yom Kippur. Tall, handsome, good job, funny, well educated and Jewish. Not too shabby. I inquire to the mutual friend, he gets my number, calls, and a date is set for him to cook me dinner the following week (his idea). I am curious at first. Cooked dinner in his apartment for a first date? My friends ensure me that he must be a good cook to invite me over for a home cooked dinner on the first date.

Armed with a bottle of wine, I head over to his apartment. As I am knocking on his door a very cute man is walking down the hall towards me. I look back at the door and realize, this is my date. Much cuter then a remembered! Problem is, he is getting there as I am, which means I have to watch him cook for me, quite a strange feeling when I barely know him.

The wine is opened and poured (on the heavy side for me). He made a lovely tomato mozzarella salad, with toothpicks for bite size snacking. While steaming some green beans he started to season some fish. I am halfway through the bottle of wine at this point, standing in the door way of his kitchen just watching. Out come the Ziploc steamer bags from the drawer and the fish go into the bags and into the microwave. 4 minutes later - dinner.

He sheepishly tells me I am not supposed to see this part, it is his secret, I tell him I see nothing and his secret is safe. I start the second bottle of wine and continue with this date that I believe is going quite well.

After one massive hangover and one week - no phone call. He will be forever known not as "the nice Jewish boy I met break fast", but as "the man who made me microwave fish for dinner"...

And I'm back...

After a few months hiatus, where the bad dates were no longer funny and became simply depressing (or non-existent), I'm back. Part at the urging of my friends, who continue to eagerly await the stories from my dates. Mind you these eager friends are all in relationships. Partly from the muted beep on my blackberry indicating the following message in my inbox this morning.



New message from CoolTallGenius


CoolTallGenius says:

hi - I think i'd enjoy sleeping with you. Just a hunch. -Jake (read more)


View Message


There was nothing more to read. That was it. Does "cooltallgenius" really believe this will work? Curious to respond to see if this does work for him. Something tells me no. Something also tells me Jake is neither cool tall or a genius. Thank you OK Cupid, for tipping me over the edge just enough to bring back the blog.

Marketing to my Uterus...

I have recently realized that there is a new marketing push out there - to my uterus. No longer am I the target of maxi pad and tampon companies. Oxy Clean and Clearasil see no use for the likes of me. Not even Match.com or theknot.com look my way. But pampers, Babies R us, Buy Buy Baby, and Luv's just can't get enough these days.

And today, the pièce de résistance... As I walked into the foyer of my apartment building, there is a shoebox sized package with my name on it. Courtesy of Similac. 2lbs of formula - one for bone strength, one for fussy and gassy babies. SERIOUSLY?!?

How about sending some free condoms, maybe some free samples of my birth control! These are things that I need, not two pounds of formula. Just because I'm over 30, does this mean I'm automatically qualified for this shit? How about sending me a date instead, then the formula in a few more years...

Mother's Day

As I check out at the supermarket and place my yogurt, fruit and granola into my recyclable bag, the check out boy wishes me a happy mother's day. He asks if I'm a mother, I politely say no. I say Thank God under my breath, and then he asks, "but you will be soon, right?"

No, not if I can help it. Happy Mother's day! For now, I'll just be a grateful auntie who likes her cocktails and her own nap times.

A Prince of My Own...

As I watched the royal wedding in the wee hours of this morning, all I could focus on was the moment Prince William laid eyes on the now Princess Katherine. It was a moment that made me cry, I can't lie about that. Such love, such excitement, as if you know it will last forever. He mouths "you look beautiful". At this point, I am fully crying, wishing to have someone love me like that in my life.

I closed my eyes hard, took a step towards the door, to my kingdom, my reality, and then to the gym. Ha! Gotta look good if you want that prince of your own. I'll get there...

The Sushi Set Up

Sushi is a great place for a date. I can't tell you the number of dates that I have been on at a sushi spot. Usually the second date, although I don't know why. Here in New York, there is a sushi restaurant on every corner, and most of them are pretty damn good. This weekend, I ventured more towards midtown, entering into an Asian oasis on 49th Street with my cousin, for a quiet evening with some raw fish.

After walking into the zen like space, I quickly noticed there was a particular seating scheme. Families filled the front, mostly booths, with small children and many bowls of edamame and tempura. In the middle, were dozens of tables for two, with what looked like second dates all around. In the back, were the single people. Tables of women, two by two, capped on the end by two tables of three men. I was instantly intrigued.

One set of three men looked like the Jewish version of the Jonas Brothers, a little more gel for the Jew 'fro, lots of chest hair, and a love for the Jappy Jersey girls sitting next to them. How did I know they were from Jersey, well, my cousin and I were lucky enough to hear the whole conversation. Jersey and Long Island were both represented, and a conversation about Jew camp was included as well. I felt pangs of jealousy over my spicy tuna roll and special number 5 roll that I wasn't the one getting hit on. Maybe it was just a twinge of indigestion.

As I pondered this, three men sat down next to us, two with wedding bands, and one who was loud, sweaty, overweight and balding - and of course single. Thanks sushi people! Although I can appreciate your relationship feng shui, and actually can respect it, felt a little insulting with what you provided on our side. At least the sushi was good!

The Netflix Boyfriend

So I finally have joined the Netflix revolution. It's been a few months now and we couldn't be happier. So many evenings and long luxurious weekends have been spent together,laughing, crying, and smiling from ear to ear. Don't get me started on the discussions that have surfaced as a result, I could talk about it for hours!

It's so dependable, I know it will be around from the middle of the week through Sunday, waiting for me. It knows just what I like, whether it's something a little more serious, or light hearted to de-stress me from my week. It gets better with a good bottle of wine or even a slice from the Gotham Pizza on the corner.

It doesn't talk back and totally there for me, entertaining me, taking me to foreign lands or allowing me time with some of the hottest movie stars around.

Now, if only I can find a person who can do the same, we'd really be in business. Until then, I will wait with anticipation for the next red envelope to come...

New York's Finest?!?

As I walked home on this cold and rainy evening, a bright spot appeared! A very cute man walked past me in midtown, nicely dressed and looking good! Gotta love a man in a suit.

After taking a closer look, I realized he was blowing spit bubbles. For real - spit bubbles! Clearly not New York's finest. And so I continued through the masses, head down, pushing forward to home.

Irish Goodbye

This weekend, a good friend of mine brought me a boy for my birthday party. Initially I was intrigued. Sadly, it didn't last long. After some strange comments and clear continued anger and homicidal ideation towards his recent ex, I was done with my new toy.

He must have sensed my boredom. After buying shots for me and all my friends (solid attempt at buying back my affection), he let me know he was heading to the bathroom. We never saw him again.

And so is the story of the Irish goodbye... At least he had enough sense to pay his bar tab before leaving!

The Benefits of Aging Jewish Parents...

Having aging Jewish parents has some benefits that I continually reap...

Recently, I have received an email from my mom letting me know that there is a free movie screening in NYC. Yay! This could be something good! The movie is Lord of the Dance - 3D! Apparently this is not a joke and is coming to a theater near you soon!

I also tend to get mail from my parents. Mail is always a good thing. These days, all the postmaster brings me are bills, catalogs, and Netflix. So a personalized letter with stickers on it is fun. That is until I open it up, to see some article sent from the Sun-Sentinel by my Dad, or coupons from my mom, usually for tampons, Pepto, or Lactaid Pills. No note.

With all their aging quirks, the best is getting to hear the weather report for New York City, messages about how cold Matt Lauer looks on the today show so I should dress warmly, or the latest fad by Oprah.

Gotta love em!

There once was a lady who lived in a...

How is it that NYC girls can fit their entire apartments in a bag. The other day, I went from work, to the gym, to a date. I had two pairs of underwear, three pairs of shoes, makeup, and three different outfits all in one small tote! Not to mention a few things for work, my Smart Water and a lunch container.

Instead of the old lady who lived in a shoe, I may just be the 30 something who lives out of her Longchamp bag...

Birthday Wishes

Ah, the birthday wishes to a single girl, courtesy of the online dating companies.

From Match.com - Today's your birthday, spend it with someone special! Take 25% off our services. Thanks for reminding me that I'm without that "someone special" today and offer me money off your services that did diddly in helping me find that "someone special".

From OKCupid - Happy 31st Birthday! Are you still single? Come check out your matches and find the men who want to meet you for your birthday! Versus the losers that just want to contact me ever other day of the year?

Do they really consider this positive marketing? I consider this more reasons to leave work and get a giant dirty martini with the ladies...

Cheers to me!

The Abyss

Birthdays bring a lot of things up for a lot of people. I've always enjoyed my birthday. Usually, I'm not working, on vacation, in college it was always spring break, but as I am getting older, I see nothing more than this abyss, deep and dark, with no way out.


It's tricky at 31, what else is left? There are many milestones that have passed - turning 5 and starting school, turning 10 and getting into the all so important double digits. At thirteen I had my bat mitzvah, at 16 I got a driver's license, 18 I got freedom, 21 came with legal drinking. Then it gets a little dodgy. Twenty-five was kind of cool, I was at some disco in the Caribbean, and at thirty, I was feeling pretty confident and playing beer pong. I feel that I gained some ground in this past year, setting (and achieving) some incredible goals and feeling as though I was living my life for the first time in a while.

Tomorrow I will turn 31. Now is the time when there are less significant age milestones and more of the life milestones. These just don't seem to be coming, here lies the abyss - dark and deep, a little scary, and all unknown.

It's a good think I'm on this adventure kick lately, because it will really help me as I dive, head first, into this abyss...

A strange version of a biological clock...

It's strange to me, over the past few months in particular, I have had this incredible ability to stay out until 4 in the morning. Now, that's not saying I am all that productive the next day, but it has been done, and done quite often.

The problem is, that although I can stay up until the wee hours of the morning over the weekend, I always wake up early! No matter how hard I try, I'm awake by 7am, sometimes 8am if I'm lucky. I HATE THIS! I truly believe it is a strange version of a biological clock.

Some say it's the way your body is trained. Wake up for work each morning at 7am, the body will do the same on the weekend. Here is where I dispute, I can't seem to get up on time for work. I can hardly stay awake for work.

Yet I'll stay out until 4am, and like clock work, wake at 8am on Sunday. Kinda wish I could get this clock onto a better schedule...

A hug, really?

I made some strides today as I lay extremely hung over, cursing tequila once again. I turn over, with the spins and a dry mouth to see my ex there. Ugh, tequila leads to such poor decision making. I have to take some responsibility however, as I have been dancing around shutting the door on what I know is not a good situation for a while now. My ex (the class ring guy) and I stopped dating a while back, but keep gravitating towards each other for pockets of what I consider fun, but self-destructive behavior.

This weekend, after a lot of tequila and his roommate hitting on me (for real - his words, we can hang out and he doesn't need to know), we went home together. Waking up in the morning, I knew this dance had to end. I told him no more, no hanging out as friends or dating, what was the point? We'd been down that road before and it's not going anywhere. After all, why should I spend time in something that goes no where?

He looks at me, as his eyes begin to water (seriously - looked like he was about to cry) and told me that he was so happy to have known me. Weird! I make no effort to keep him there, telling him he needs to go. He stands up, looks at me and turns to hug me. I didn't a hug, really just wanted to have him leave and get back into bed alone, but apparently he did...

My Poppa

I visited my Poppa while I was home for the weekend. He's 93 years old and has become quite the conversationalist, throwing out interesting stories (he won the award for resident most like Cary Grant) and funny jokes.

As he is telling me how proud he is of me and how interested he is in my life, he asks, with a smirk on his face, if I am keeping any secrets from him. I have a feeling I know where he is going with this, but ask him whatever could he mean? He looks over at my sister than back at me.

"Well Molly, do you have any special companion?" Stifling my laughs, I let him know that sadly, I do not have a boyfriend. I assure him, however, that I will keep him posted. He then asks me if I am on Jdate. How does a 93 year old man with no computer literacy know about Jdate?

Gotta love him and his desire to see me settled and happy, hopefully, in his mind, with a nice Jewish man. In my greatest Jewish grandmother voice I say...

"From your mouth to God's ears!"

What constitutes a date?

A date to me is when two people who like each other go out together. Dinner, movie, drinks, concert, museum, whatever... Does an outing need to end with two people in bed together to constitute a date?

Well according to my ex, that I have recently re-connected with, that should be a part of the plan. After a perfect dinner and evening stroll, I thanked him for what I thought was a great evening, and a great date. He questioned whether it was a date or not, because I chose to go home alone. His exact words as I hopped on the uptown express bus - can it be considered a date if we're going home separately?

Call it my naivete, but I'm wondering if this is what dating has been reduced to? Is this modern day courting? Perhaps I should just reconsider why I have reunited with this asshole in the first place!

Slumber Party

My 7 year old niece is quite precocious. She is a sponge, grasping everything and anything that is said around her. And she is wise beyond her years. I love her for this, she truly is exceptional! However, the little stinker is really getting a little too cute for her own good.

She asked me a few times this weekend, how my slumber party was. I look at her, asking with great curiosity, what she means? I haven't had a slumber party in years! She told me that isn't true, she heard her mother (my sister) talking about a recent slumber party that I had. Thinking quickly and sending death looks my sister's way, I tell her that I slept over at my friend's house the prior weekend out of town.

This satisfied the sassy girl for only a moment, as she continued to pressure me for details. Lesson learned, tell my sister to keep her mouth shut around her chatty little girls and keep future slumber parties confidential!

Propaganda

So there is this new show called Mad Love, it's on after How I Met Your Mother, and strangely, all the characters look the same. Anyway, it's total propaganda. Total bull shit that isn't even close to real, but gets people thinking that New York City is a land filled with relationship opportunity. They make it look easy and it's not. If you can't tell, I'm a little riled up by this.

The pilot starts atop the Empire State Building. Seriously, that is not a joke. An averaged sized, good looking man, who isn't a tourist, is up there with his best friend, and randomly runs into a beautiful girl, as he turns to look for his cell phone that was left on the ledge. That would never happen for so many reasons...

1. A phone wouldn't last left alone in this city for more than 2 seconds

2. Nobody's hair looks that good 38 stories up, this may not be the Windy City, but it gets windy on top of sky scrapers.

3. No straight American guy just hangs out at the top of tourist traps without a particular reason.

Their date continues, they talk all night, they have a romantic kiss. Blah, Blah, Blah. Propaganda!!!! Never would happen. What would happen is the following...

1. His girlfriend walks in after they share their first kiss and he offers to cook her breakfast (seriously???)

2. "He" (the cute, "oh my God he's the one guy") would be like the best friend instead - a big sloppy mess who needs to shave and likes burping, masturbation, and bad jokes

3. They realize this is all a dream and will never work out

I wish life was a simple as a 30 minute sitcom. I wish it was that easy, because I would keep lining up to get to the top of the Empire State Building. Life is what it is, and reality can bite sometimes. But I will continue to watch this propaganda (it really was a good show), and hope that my life will take this romantic and seemingly unrealistic turn for the better!

If you can't beat them, join them?

So my friend, who reads my blog (Thanks!), decided to send me this article from the Wall Street Journal. The gist of it is that "too many men in their 20s are living in a new kind of extended adolescence". My response to my friend and the article was - interesting and sad all in one concise article filled with excuses! Ugh! So frustrating!

Ah well. Gets me thinking though. If most men these days are are stuck in an extended adolescence and there is little getting around it - should I join them? Is it time to break out the funnel?

Right as I am ready to start practicing my best keg stand, I realized, I've have tested the can't beat them join them theory. It's called Africa, it's called dive bars with beer pong, its called 25 year old suitors.

Shit, seems I'm just going to have to stay the course. Maybe I can find a straggler, an outlier, someone who isn't focused on just beer pong and video games, and actually enjoys being a grown up.

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704409004576146321725889448.html?KEYWORDS=where+have+the+good+men+gone

See what I deal with?

The continued question is how to meet a quality guy in New York City. So many times I'm out with girlfriends and have the same conversation over and over. Internet dating still feels like banging my head against the wall, but as usual, I'm a glutton for punishment. Below is the most recent messaging between me and a potential match as we discuss how hungover he is from a big night out last night...


mf314 says:
so, hungover?
JS91880 says:
yup
JS91880 says:
very'
mf314 says:
worth it?
JS91880 says:
wanna come rub my head?

Really??? As if that's not enough for me to stop the message right then and there, I maneuver the questioning towards jobs and other basic pleasantries. As the conversation falls to a close, I get...


JS91880 says:
ok, i gotta lie down...so unless u wanna come lie on the couch w me, I'll talk to u later? :)
mf314 says:
not making off my own couch tonight
mf314 says:
sorry
mf314 says:
I'll talk to you later
JS91880 says:
ha no problem
JS91880 says:
have a good nite :)
mf314 says:
you too
mf314 says:
feel better

Seriously? I just got propositioned on via Internet dating instant messaging without even a drink offer. Is this what it's coming down to? See what I have to deal with?

A Little Gratitude...

As much as I bitch about my single state, I have been reminded of how great I actually have it.

* I don't have to deal with husbands, in laws, or baby drama

* I can stay out all night because I got no one to answer to but me

* I can sleep with who ever I want, whenever I want, how ever many times I want

* I can get a mani/pedi whenever I want it, any time, any day, without having a care in the world

* I get peace and quiet whenever I choose and can find a party when I need something a little more exciting

I know there is always going to be a "grass is always greener" discussion going through my head and around the cocktail table with the girls. But for today, I see that I've got a pretty good life!

And that's how decisions are made...

Prince Charming stayed in the picture a little longer than anticipated. I mean, he's so adorable! Against my better judgment, it was just hard to say no to him! As time passed however, it became crystal clear why things needed to end.

1. Telling me he has "nothing to give" . What the hell does that mean?

2. After asking me out, he recants, telling me "I just can't spend a lot, after my move, I'm not in the highest of finances right now." Its New York! You can go on a great date for free!

3. Ah, the move. He has since moved out of his childhood home with his father in Long Island and into a lofted studio in the middle of nowhere Brooklyn, where he and his brother have bunk beds (or the lofted version of such).

After not hearing from him in a week with the excuse of, "yea, been working a lot (he's a glorified waiter), that's my life." I'll make the decision easy. This is over, there is NOTHING to see here.

A metaphor? I hope not...

As I walked out of my apartment this Valentine's Day morning, I see a hearse. Now, I live next to a funeral home and often see caskets and mourning people as I leave my building.

Today, as I walked out to see the large black car with a casket in tow, I wondered, is this a metaphor for my love life, or as it turns, lack there of? I choose not to accept this coincidence. Instead, I pumped up the music on my ipod and strut down the street in my highest heels.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Want to come to my dorm room and watch a movie?

Now that I have started a total love affair with Netflix (a long story for another time), I want to watch movies all the time! In an attempt to have a low key night with Prince Charming (yes, he's still around), I offered to have him over and watch the latest arrival from Netflix - The Social Network. Now, I hadn't seen the movie yet and was really looking forward to watching it.

Back in college, if you were asked to go back to the dorms and watch a movie, usually there was no movie watching going on. Silly me for thinking that I'm out of college. He comes over, brings a lovely bottle of wine, and tries right off the bat to distract me from the movie. I remind him that I really want to watch the movie, and shut him down. As we hit the halfway mark, he tells me "I've behaved for half the movie, I can't help myself anymore." I told him that I really wanted to watch the movie. He replies, "wait, you really wanted me to come over and watch the movie???" And with that, he paused the movie.

A sign that I am getting older. I was really upset that I stopped the movie, and found it hard to pick up where I left off in the movie the next day. Is it so hard to find a guy who wants to come over and actually watch the movie? Is two hours really all that challenging for a guy to sit still and focus on something? Hmmm....

The Official End of My Spring Break

I've been on an extended spring break since quitting my job and returning from Africa. The cool thing is, spring break has been way better than when I was actually in college. Here's why...

1. I'm of legal drinking age, no need to worry that my id won't be accepted or even worse, I'll get arrested (again...)

2. I was in Africa for two months, that beats Cancun and Fort Lauderdale any time

3. When I came back from Africa, I was in New York, again, much better place to have fun than Cancun and Fort Lauderdale

4. I can handle my booze better than I did in college. And there is this little thing that I have now called tolerance

5. No crowds, annoying drunk sorority girls, or MTV present (there may have been some fraternity boys...)

6. It's been 4 months, not just one week

As I spend my last day of freedom before re-entering the working world, I am sad to leave my late nights out until 4am, weekday brunches, the O.C., and the luxury of working out in the middle of the day, everyday, behind. Time to pack away the good memories, put my brain back into my head, and get back out into the world.

The Modern Day Mix Tape

Remember the days when the mix tape was popular? I used to make tons of them, but never did I have one made for me. Sad! That is until now.

There is this guy I have seen a few time over the past month. He's sweet and seems totally enamored with me. As he came over last night, he looked into his bag, letting me know he has something for me. Out comes his Ipod and a playlist named Molly... I squeal - Oh my God! You made me a mix tape! He looks at me with a crooked, confused look. Did I mention he is a bit younger (probably too young for knowledge of cassette tapes).

Either way, it's a fabulous mix. Kept me smiling throughout the night, as he explained why he put each song on the list, and promised me a CD of the playlist.

Swoon! Simple pleasures in the new year!

It's been a year...

As The Unsinkable Molly Brown turns 1 year old, I want to thank those of you who have followed my adventures, lived vicariously through me, or added to my stories and my life.

Stay tuned this new year for fun times out, the occasionally poor decision making, and endless adventures!