Accidentally Hilarious.

You know what really grinds my gears? Well, I'll tell you: 1) Automated phone calls that make you press numbers. Now, the phone call itself isn't what bugs me. I don't mind not having to talk to a real person. (That sounds weird...) I hate it when they say this: "If this is correct, PRESS 1. If this is incorrect, PRESS 3." Now, sometimes I'm in a hurry, and I don't like to listen to the robot all the way to the end. So I assume, as lots of normal people do, that in a natural succession of numbers, if you want to say no, and pressing 1 means yes, you'd press 2. But then when I press 2, it gives me the whole "That response does not exist" shpeel, thus prolonging my time on the phone, renewing my prescriptions, when I pressed 2 to speed things up in the first place. WHAT HAPPENED TO 2????? 2) Elevator buttons. Specifically, elevator buttons that look like this: What genius  came up with THIS setup??? My eyeballs are going to go d

Happy Post-Christmas! I hope that by now you're all coming out of your ham, potato, and cookie-induced comas. I'm sitting here with my parents watching "Monster-in-Law" with Jennifer Lopez and Jane Fonda. Another romantic comedy. And every time this guy gives J. Lo a line about the color of her eyes, or when the two of them lock eyes from across the beach and you know they're immediately attracted to one another and all that melodramatic bullshit, I literally rolled my eyes and made some snide comment about how it doesn't happen like that.  Not in real life. At least not in mine. And it makes me sad that I feel that way, because I want to believe that there's romance out there, somewhere. I guess it just has to find its way back to me. I guess I shouldn't sound so antipathetic, because I do have love. But I suppose I've learned that just because you are loved, doesn't mean that you never feel alone. I've felt pretty alone this Christmas

Merry Christmas Eve, everyone. I don't know why I'm blogging. It seems I've got nothing else to do until tonight. Don't worry, it's not as though I'm missing out on any exciting family Christmas traditions or activities, my dad and I are sitting here in the family room watching really bad Ben Stiller movies and my mom just popped a frozen pizza into the oven. Sounds charming, doesn't it? The LeCaptain family Christmas has never really been one of grandeur or great measure. That doesn't mean to say it isn't fun or doesn't mean anything. It's one of the only times of the year (along with Thanksgiving) that the entire clan gathers together to celebrate while sitting around a table full of hors d'oeuvres and cookies, while A Christmas Story  plays in the living room and the tree hovers over all the presents until the children start ripping them open. 'Tis an exciting time. Nah, really. I'm making it seem like I don't enjoy

I really need to start blogging when I have the impulse to blog when the ideas are still running around in my head, instead of waiting till 20 minutes later when they're all pooped out and leaning against the wall, trying to catch their breath before making the next six laps, and already their teeth feel like they're all going to fall out and there's a taste of blood in their mouth, a stabbing pain in their side and their lungs feel like lead..... What you just read was exactly what it was like for me to run a mile in high school. All metaphors aside, really. The ideas were there, and now I'm not sure how fresh they are.... Before I go into some other metaphor about freshness, I'll get to the point. Tonight I saw Black Swan . I didn't know too much about it, just that I'd heard some people say, "Oh it's a ballet movie with Natalie Portman," and things of that nature, so I decided to see if it was playing in my city, and of course, it wa

The mind of a child is a funny thing. It can take something really great, and build it up to something really  awesome. It can believe that something fictional is very real. And it can twist something simple into something absolutely terrifying. Or maybe it was just my mind... I think I was 5 years old when I went to the library the day the fire department came for an educational visit. We were just there to rent books, but when it was announced that the fire department would be speaking briefly at the back of the building, the people I was with decided it would be nice to go check it out. I remember pretty vehemently not wanting to do this. When we got out back, there was a giant firetruck and a dozen men standing around, dressed in their uniforms. As if that weren't intimidating enough for a young child. There were lots of kids gathered around with their parents, waiting in anticipation to hear all about the world of fighting fires and saving lives. The Chief of the depar

A letter to my one reader from Denmark: Dear reader from Denmark, I’m pretty sure that you accidentally came upon this blog while searching for something super cool and European (like…tea and crumpets…), but thank you for making this humble little online journal go international. I feel so cultured now because of it. You deserve a plaque. The good kind of plaque. Not the kind that rots your mouth and causes heart attacks. Because you deserve good things. Not bad. So thanks. Traditional Denmarkian send-off, Molly Blogger from Accidentally Hilarious. UPDATE: I've checked my reader stats again, and discovered that my "All Time" audience is as follows: United States: 1,009  Denmark: 5 Canada: 3 Croatia: 2 Japan: 1 Taiwan: 1 Well, whaddaya know! What a little cultured blog this is! Here is an updated letter to my international readers. Dear World, You may not know it, mainly because I'm positive you can't read this because you don't speak English (s

Things I am no good at: Purling Belching The worm Time management Science Video games Double tasking (this is task dependent, of course) Not thinking baby animals are cute Golf Lying Being normal Things I am pretty darn good at: Blogging Buying things I usually don't need Sleeping Liking pink Hating Justin Bieber, Taylor Swift, Nickelback, and country music in general Eating tasty food Laughing Keeping secrets Hugging Love Ukulele (ish) Music Procrastinating Being funny Being awkward Loving the song "Christmas Eve/Sarajevo" by TSO Dancing around like a crazy person to aforementioned song Confusing the hell out of people Making weird noises, like baby crying Giving advice Being patient Being loyal Having fun Naming things (i.e. a bear named BearBear, a monkey - MonkMonk, a flamingo - MingMing...) Smiling Staying true to who I am The bad's came before the good's merely because I was freshly frustrated at how bad I am at pur

I drew this lovely picture of my stuffed flamingo while the boys make dinner for the Semi-Homemade party. Isn't he beautiful??? Hopefully the festivities will commence soon, or you'll all be faced with yet another blog post. Sorry for the poor quality of the last two entries.  Peace. Molly

Happy Holidays from Madison.  Peace. Molly

I AM GOING TO PUNCH A KITTEN!!!!! (Which is ironic because of my last post. Not my kitten. I won't punch him.) BUT SRSLY ARRRRRRRRRRRRGGH!! First, I discover through e-mail that I've got $250 in library overdue fees. TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS FOR THREE BOOKS. Those books aren't even worth that much. So, I truck my angry ass down to the library and return the books. I then proceed to the help desk to ask if there is any way to contest the fees. Library girl: May I ask what the reason is? Me: Well...I really don't have an excuse for the overdue-...ness...um.... Library girl: Well, the first thing you can do is return the books, and then -- Me: Oh, I just did that. LG: Okay. That will take the fee down to about $45, because there is a $60 holding fee for each book, and a $15 late fee. So it should go down now that you've returned the books. Me: ...Oh. *General embarrassment for overreacting* Well, that's all I needed to know, thanks. LG:

My cat. My cat Elmo is not a cat. He is a dog. He follows me around the house like a puppy. Sometimes I almost step on him because he follows so close behind me and runs out in front of me. He comes when I call him. He can speak English. I swear. I've had him since 6th grade. One time, he ran away for 3 months because he was an outdoor cat and came and went as he pleased. But one day he just never came back. Until one day we were driving to school in the morning for a talent show practice and I saw him sitting in the grass in someone's yard. So after school we went back to that house (it wasn't far from mine) and found him. The people who lived there (another farm) had been taking care of him and had named him S'mores. Which was odd. Because he doesn't really have any dark brown (chocolate) on him. Just graham cracker and marshmallow. So they gave us a ride back home (we'd biked) and we kept him inside from then on. He was really skinny when we fir

A few tips for winter survival. Tip #1 Just because you are a pedestrian, does not mean you don't have to look before crossing the street in a crosswalk. This tip is especially necessary in the winter months, but is most definitely not limited to the winter months. If I cannot see you and you suddenly throw yourself onto the street with your book bags and your Starbucks, there is a good chance that my car will not want to stop right away, and you will end up on the ground, covered in coffee, or dead. I promise you that, as a cautious winter driver, I will be going either the speed limit or slower, so I will try to slow down and stop for you, if I see you preparing to enter this crosswalk. But I need you to return the favor and make sure that there is no one coming. You are not the Queen of the Crosswalk. Just look before you walk. Just do it. Or die. Or be horribly mangled and incapacitated. Tip #2 Don't just blindly jut around corners because you think no one

In honor of the birthday of my most favorite musician and possibly my most favorite human being alive, I've decided to dedicate an entire blog to Ingrid Michaelson. Things I've Learned from Ingrid Michaelson: "I can be anything that I see. I can do anything my heart tells me to do." I can be at my lowest low, but still have hope as long as I know that I'm still breathing. "We're men of snow, we melt one day." "The only way to really know is to really let it go." "We are so fragile, our cracking bones make noise and we are just breakable, breakable, breakable girls and boys." Love is alive. "It's not fitting in that will help to begin to show you your beauty." "Get out of bed, you're stronger now. Get out of bed,you're stronger than before. Get out of your bed." "It's time to repaint myself." "Don't be afraid, it's not bad to be sad." "You

Where did all the time go? Wow. I feel like it was just 12:30. Now it's 2pm. Yeesh. I've recently discovered Paint Brush, the equivalent of MS Paint for Macs, as you can see by some of my previous blogs in which I've included weird little drawings, and I just sat here for about a half hour drawing a picture of a stuffed monkey that I have, and have had since I was 6. His name is Monk Monk. He'll be 17 on New Year's Eve. They grow up so fast. On my sister's birthday (New Year's Eve), my parents brought my sister and me to Cub Foods to pick up some things for Megan's birthday dinner, and probably the necessary birthday cake that we would inevitably eat that evening during the celebrations. We were there for food, but as we walked past a shelf full of monkeys and gorillas, I don't even know what it was that drew me to him, maybe it was his happy little smile, or his crooked little legs, but I picked him up, and, to my surprise, my mom said I could

Teaching people that you can get a better body just by wearing clothes? Wrong-o. (Note: I don't believe that there really are people like this. Just making commentary on the product. Also, please note the '70s wallpaper and carpeting.) Peace. Molly

I swear. I know I may not be the best at grammar, or English, or writing, or speaking, or anything , really, but I do appreciate the honest attempt to write, speak or ... I don't know, burp the English language. (I'm sure I'd appreciate the honest attempt to write, speak or burp other languages, but I'm not fluent in any other, so alas, I must stick with English. Curse my unilinguity. I made up a word. Unilinguity. Uni-linguity?) The review for Spelling Bee was in the school newspaper this week. It was terrible . To say the least. I think I wrote better pieces of literature when I was in middle school. I mean, if we all thought that the man who writes for the local newspaper, a former sports columnist, was bad, this reviewer just came bounding and leaping ahead of him and took first prize in the Really Crappy Composition Contest . (See what I did with the alliteration there? Clever.) Not only was it a summary of the plot, a really horribly, criminally vomitous summary

In honor of the Christmas season, I would like to share with you all that the Jim Carrey The Grinch Who Stole Christmas is my favorite Christmas movie ever. Seriously. I used to quote that movie all the time, back in 7th grade. Hell, I still do. ("Holiday Who-bie What-ty?" Yeah. I use that in everyday conversation when I have no idea what you're talking about.) My friend Caitlin and I used to sing the song "Where Are You Christmas" (the Cindy Lou Who rendition, with crappy children voices and all) at lunch just about every damn day. It's no wonder we were so popular. Also, Jessica is pretty. And her bed is really tall. :) Peace. Molly