You know I love you, my little monkeys.

Q: Who fell off the face of the Blogger?

A: MOLLY fell off the face of the Blogger.

And just as well. Nobody reads this thing anyway.

Day 6,503

Guess what I did yesterday.

As much as I kind of like not mentioning personal details, I felt the need to RECOUNT MY ENCOUNTER with greatness.

The theater seated about 100, and so it was as low-budget and humble as you would expect. The bathrooms were backstage, and the performers entered the stage through two red curtains on the left while anyone in search of the restroom went through one black curtain on the right, and it all emptied into the same room backstage. (The curtains were just formalities, I guess is what I'm saying.) So after the show, my mom went back to pee, and so I stood out by the stage and waited. After a few minutes I poked my head back behind the curtain to see if she was in line, and JoCo was standing RIGHT THERE, talking to someone. I went "Oh gaaaawd" to myself, and flipped the curtain shut. I'm pretty sure I did this twice.

My mom came out, and then JoCo did a few minutes later. Some teenage boys ahead of me had him sign a dollar bill, to which he said "I think that's a federal offense, but okay." He then came up to my mom and I, and I said "I don't have anything for you to illegally sign, I just want a picture," and he said "Oh, okay, I do pictures." My mom held up her camera and mine side by side, and took a picture with hers, and then immediately again with mine. My flash is somehow fancier than hers, and JoCo kept saying "Ooh, OOH" as mine was going off. It was very cute.

Mom then said, "She's a huge fan. Her heart is beating so fast right now," and he sorta laughed and said, "Mine is, too."

(The Paul Gleason Theater is right across the street from a Scientology testing center, which was noted right before they played Tom Cruise Crazy. JoCo told us all during the set that if there were any laser sights on his body, we were supposed to yell the code word "Tippy toe!" so that he could duck.) As he was talking to my mom and I, someone waiting on the other side of the stage pointed a laser pen at his chest, and I forgot the code word, so I just pointed and said "You have something— a laser sight thing— on your chest there."
"What? OH." He looked up and said to the others in a half-admonishing tone, "That isn't funny, you guys."

He thanked us for coming out to the show, and reached out to shake my hand, and asked my name, which I found thrilling and odd. "'Molly'? Thanks for coming out tonight, Molly."

I bought a "Visit Beautiful Skullcrusher Mountain" t-shirt, and then we went home. I got into bed around 4 AM, just because I spent hours and hours detailing everything to my friends and sending them pictures.

Today I wore the shirt, and kids kept asking where Skullcrusher Mountain is...

Day 6,502

There's the whole idiom from 1984, "Oceania is at war with Eastasia. Oceania has always been at war with Eastasia."

That's how I feel about current events sometimes, because of 24-hour news.

Phil Spector's trial is in deliberation.
Phil Spector's trial has always been in deliberation.

Lindsay Lohan is in rehab.
Lindsay Lohan has always been in rehab.

America is at war with Iraq.
America has always been at war with Iraq.

Day 6,495

I wonder how much money is tossed into all the bodies of water in Disneyland each year in the form of errant wishing well-style coins. It must be somewhere in the thousands of dollars, I'm sure.

This is a question no one will ever be able to answer for me.

Day 6,475

Sometimes when I write stories, I'll make some edit to them really really late at night, like, right before I go to sleep. And then a few weeks later when I go back and read on them, I'll be familiar with most of what I've written, and remember feeling proud of some metaphor or sensory description at the time that I wrote it, etc. But then the edits I made before I went to sleep, in the twilight of my consciousness, I can't remember those at all, and thus they startle and impress me when I read them later.

I was just reading back on one today, and read the line "Her face began to tense with the onset of tears", which I don't remember even coming up with, much less putting down to text. The phrase as a whole was completely unfamiliar to me, but I knew that I'm the only only one who could've put it there, and so it struck me in this weirdly dichotomous way; I was impressed in that half-jealous way that you can get when someone else says something really good, that Ohh, I wish I'd thought of that! kind of jealousy, but at the same time I knew that I must've written it, and so I was also proud of myself for it.

It's sort of a literary Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde syndrome.

Day 6,396

Recently I bit into the song "This Is Why I'm Hot" by Music Is My Savior ("MIMS"), for being so oblique in its stated purpose of proclaiming why MIMS is hot. My friend Jack took the debate and raised me one, and then my friend Rosie cut in on the case of "This Is Why I'm Hot" v. Molly's overthinkery and pushed us to the final conclusion. We've tied all loose ends to the eternal mystery of why MIMS is hot. WE'VE DONE IT.

Our discourse was as follows:

MOLLY:
Today at school, I finally cracked into exactly why MIMS is hot.
He says in the song that he's hot because he's fly, and that he's fly because I'm not, but that was too vague for me, and so I dug a little deeper.

MIMS is hot because he can put out a crappy song stating that he is hot [which may not be true], and we apparently believe him because the song hits #1 on international charts. MIMS is hot because he can make a song boasting said alleged hotness, a hotness that he never properly argues at any time, and it earns him millions and millions of dollars anyway. This is also why he's fly, I guess, and then we cannot do these things, so then —true to his word— we are not fly, nor hot.


JACK:
Ah, but does fly=hot? And if not, what is the ratio between fly & hot and how would that affect the equation?


MOLLY:
I guess I just inferred fly. All I know about fly is that it's something we aren't, and so I broke it down from there.

I assumed that if hot=selling an inane song about yet unproven hotness, no one is hot except MIMS, and possibly Fergie. And MIMS is hot because he's fly, and I don't know what that means, but I'm certainly not "hot" by MIMS' definition, and so I don't know if the two are directly correllated (I have to be fly before I can be hot), or if it's like the chicken/egg debate.

Then again, no one has proven MIMS' word as absolute ineffable science. These could just be his own theories as to why he is hot/fly, and he could be hot for a completely different reason.


JACK:
It seems that his hotness is directly related to his public exclamation of said hotness. Thus attention to hotness increases hotness (like throwing fuel on a fire.) The Urban Dictionary tells us that hot is merely attractive/sexy whereas fly is not only sexiness, but first and foremost a certain coolness. And we all know that if you add cool to hot, they cancel each other out, so this explains why he must have a song to proclaim the hotness otherwise the fly would douse the flames of said hot.

Or something.


MOLLY:
But if abiding by that definition of "fly", doesn't that open up a Schrodinger's Adjectives paradox in and of itself?

FLY = SEXY + COOL
but SEXY = HOT, basically
so then FLY = HOT + COOL

MIMS = HOT + FLY
MIMS = HOT + (HOT + COOL)
MIMS = 2HOT + COOL

so... then... ½(MIMS - COOL) = HOT


I think I just broke my own brainhead. Sorry.


MOLLY:
I remember where I was going with that.

MIMS is twice as hot as he is cool (assuming hot and cool are measured in similarly sized units), and he's hot because he's fly, so I guess we can assume that with the absence of fly, he would go up in flames. But fly tempers it, and keeps him at a neutral state of hot.

Yes. That is why he's hot.


ROSIE:
That sort of makes sense. Although if FLY = 0 (see below), could it temper anything? The rules of the internet say one cannot divide by zero.

Maybe it's like computer speak, where 1 = YES and 0 = NO? So like ...
MIMS = 2YES + NO
MIMS = FLY
FLY = 2YES + NO
FLY = 2(1) + 0
FLY = 1
FLY = YES

As in, YES to purchasing his album?

Did I do it? Did I crack the code?

Wait, FLY = 0.

Maybe FLY is a Quantum probability, as you have said about Schrodinger, and at any point in time could equal either 1 or 0.

Okay, I must stop now, I'm getting too carried away with wanting to make this work mathematically.

Also, I get the feeling my comments here today are all about me slowly understanding what your smartness already knew.


ROSIE:
Wait a second ... wouldn't "HOT" and "COOL" cancel each other out, as Jack has said? Like:

Suppose HOT = 1
And COOL = -1
Then:

MIMS = 2HOT + COOL
MIMS = 2(1) + -1
MIMS = 2 - 1
MIMS = 1
MIMS = HOT
MIMS = SEXY

But:
MIMS =/= 0
So:
MIMS =/= 1 + -1
MIMS =/= HOT + COOL
MIMS =/= FLY.

If HOT and COOL cancel each other out, then FLY necessarily equals 0.

So ... um ... yeah. I think my brain asploded. MIMS clearly has no basis in logic.

Also, who is MIMS?


MOLLY:
(MIMS is a rapper, who is apparently hot. It stands for Music Is My Savior.)

Well, no, wait.

FLY = HOT + COOL
HOT + COOL = 0
I disagree.

Because that still doesn't explain why MIMS is hot.
If HOT and COOL cancel out, then basically FLY = 0, like you said. But that still doesn't explain where the first HOT came from.

UNLESS... Unless the opposite of HOT is not actually COOL. I would postulate that 1COOL = ½COLD, (and similarly, ½HOT = 1WARM), and so HOT + COOL ≠ 0, but instead HOT + COLD = 0

SO THINKING THIS WAY:
1HOT + 1HOT + ½COLD = 2HOT + ½COLD

So then, 1HOT = 2WARM, and 1WARM + 1COOL = 0
And it is thus inferred that 2WARM + 2COOL = 1HOT + 1COLD = 0

SO THEN I LOST MY TRAIN OF THOUGHT.

Oh yeah. SO 2HOT = 4WARM
4WARM + 1COOL = 3WARM = 1½HOT.

THEREFORE MIMS IS HOT AND A HALF.

I've solved it! The wonders this discovery could do for humanity!

That is all.

Day 6,348

So my mom and I were driving down the freeway to my grandma's house. We were passing through Glendale, and for maybe a half-mile stretch, there was a bunch of toilet paper strewn in pieces along the side of the road. They were tangled in the grasses, and the wind blew them all in the same direction, so they looked oddly parallel and organized despite their random assortment.

I pointed it out to my mom, and she postulated [sarcastically] that there was some homeless guy living in those bushes that someone had a crush on, and they'd TPed his little abode. She'd meant it to be funny, but I thought instead that the idea was really sweet, and started giggling at the thought of homeless people in love, of some giddy homeless females purloining toilet paper from public restrooms and then carefully, quietly placing it over the branches as the object of their affections slept in the dark a few feet away.

My mom told me she thought it was kind of disturbing that I was so amused by the idea.