That Darn Tooth

I have a tiny mouth. I do. Have a tiny mouth. But I have unusually big teeth. I wonder if that has anything to do with the size of a persons bones? Anyhow, I digress...

My mouth is jammed packed with my big teeth which doesn't leave much room for anything else. I grew up with cavities galore because one tooth would get a cavity and then he'd infect the neighbor-tooth (most of my teeth are male). When I floss, I don't really "floss." I can get the floss between two teeth but then I have to string it through or else the floss breaks. That's how close my manly teeth-neighbors live next to one another. These days the majority of my teeth have fillings and there's that one darn tooth that always catches food. Spinach, chicken, apples, he doesn't discriminate. Where there's food, he's there hangin' onto it. Bastard.

No point to my blog today other than to vent. I just thought maybe you'd find it...well, no. I know this post isn't the least bit interesting. I...I apologize for this. But I'm posting it anyway.

Girls and nails

Sometimes I feel like I'm the only woman in the world who can't successfully paint her nails. When I was growing up, I was the "big-boned" girl who deep down wanted to be feminine but had to pretend to be the sports-minded type, or be the funny one in order to get any sort of attention. I never had the designer clothes, or the lotions and washes from Bath and Body Works, and I'm pretty sure I was the last of my peers to shave my legs. (I still use bar soap to lather my legs...forget about the Skintimate).
I have changed over the years. But one thing hasn't changed; my desire to be more feminine. And I'm always reminded of this when I go to paint my nails. I don't do manicures or pedicures; waste of money in my eyes which is why I do it myself. I only buy the quick drying polishes even though 60-seconds is still apparently too long.
Don't get me wrong, there is a place and time for everything. Most days, I'm in my workout clothes until I finish at the gym, then it's jeans and a casual top. But I've been living in Seoul, South Korea for the last two months and I'm amazed at how dressy everyone is here every single day of the week. However, there are other times I clean up pretty well.
So is being very feminine something we're born with, or is something that can be acquired? Is it cool (in a man's eyes) for women to have coats of many colors? Give me the scoop.

Awe, crap. Gotta touch up my nails now. Friggin' smudged a couple of 'em.

Whoopi Told Me So

The View. You know, Barbara Walters, Joy the funny red-head, the pregnant blonde, Sherri the little fire-cracker, and Whoopi. Here's the deal; for all of you who bite your nails, think again. Part of Whoopi's example raised the question; How often do you wash your hands after you wipe? And by "wipe" I'm talking about what you think I'm talking about. Lord help me I hope we're all washing our hands after we've delved into that dark and dank place but even when we do wash, (the catcher) unless you're using a nail brush to clean under your nails, you're pretty much munchin' on your own poopandpeeeeeeeyuck! Nast! *Shivers*

So make a pact with yourself to stop the nail-biting. Take your recycling elsewhere.

*Also, you don't wanna look like this guy----------------------------^^

Spray Butter

"My name is Molly, and I'm addicted to Spray Butter." While I wait for the response of those two simple words to resonate through my body, I look around only to find my pug dog sawin' logs on the couch. All I want to hear are those ominous chant-like words from the other Spray Butter freaks, "Hi, Molly." But nothing, just Dr. Phil and the *dings* from the washing machine. I should get the laundry but the pull of my beautiful blue and sunny yellow Spray Butter container keeps me idle. I'm already thinking about how I can incorporate my Spray Butter into my lunch: a tuna sandwich, toasted, with a hint of sweet pickle, sprayed with my Parkay buttery goodness. Or maybe a simple bowl of popcorn. I'll eat popcorn anytime of the day just to get my *spritz, spritz* fix. Perhaps it's steamed broccoli topped with parmesan cheese and my fake butter! All the taste without all the CALORIES! I don't even know what real butter tastes like anymore. I don't even care that I spray chemicals and plastics all over my cinnamon oatmeal or my turkey wraps. My "friends" try and tell me my veins are clogging up with polyurethane, or they're noticing a bald spot due to lack of blood flow to the back of my head but the power of the plasticy, butter goodness hears nothing of this.

This is my vice. Yeah, so maybe in 30 years my doctor will tell me the third arm that's growing out of my neck was caused by my Parkay friend but for now, it's hold is too strong. And I'm not ready to say good-bye.

Okay, I think it's time for a graham cracker and Spray Butter snack. Later.

Here's the "stuff."

Sort of. I got the first step down. So anyone who feels like doing what I'm doing, go for it. It's all in your "Template" tab.

Now I'll really start posting blogs and I would love you all to join in on the fun. I'm going to randomly pick a subject and have a new post tomorrow. Maybe even sooner, however, there are things I actually have to get done today. Dang...

Keep it real. If you need a laugh, watch "Grandma's Boy."

Molls

Who Knew?

I've recently been researching Google AdSense because I want to make some extra money. It's as simple as that. I've read that Blogger.com allows you to post ads with AdSense so this is a tester. If in fact this idea works, I will be blogging my face off and talking about things to peak anyone's interest!

Cross your fingers, it'd be fun to come back and B.S. about different "stuff."

Until then,
Mollywood