Accidentally Hilarious.

I'm going to talk about HAIR again. Sorry. Who am I kidding? I'M NOT SORRY! I love HAIR. I've seen it twice on Broadway, and after this weekend, I've now seen the show three times, and I would see it a thousand times more. I just don't have that kind of money right now... On the drive home from Milwaukee, we were trying to think of a word to describe the show. It's a musical, but it's more than that. It's not performance art, because it's not quite as ... strange. We decided that it's an experience. Because you're not watching people pretending to be living in this time of war and a fight for peace, you are actually experiencing everything with them. They run out into the audience and touch you, and dance with you, and talk to you. You, the audience, are included in this experience. At the end, you feel the passion and grief that the tribe exudes as they cry out for peace and beg to be heard. (That could also just be me, since I've se

Where I work, I scoop ice cream. Sometimes herds of children at a time come to the gift shop to get ice cream. It gets a little crazy. But there is one thing that all these children have in common. They all watch their ice cream being scooped as if it were the single most greatest experience of their lives. I mean, there is a water park just a few hundred feet away. There is an arcade where some people spend hours (and lots of money) playing games and winning tickets. But none of these awesomely amazing things can top the experience of watching ice cream being scooped. When the kids tell me what they want, and I go to scoop it, I can always, always depend on one thing when I look up: They will always be staring at my hands, scoop in one, bowl or cone in the other, meticulously placing each blob of ice cream into said bowl or cone. Their little noses press up against the glass, fogging up just around their nostrils. Some of them put their grubby little paws up and smear the glass

I think I have a focus problem. It's not an attention deficit disorder or anything, I just really suck at doing one thing at a time. Even just as I was going to start writing this, I got distracted by a bunch of pictures of people who support Planned Parenthood. I don't even know why, I just saw a picture I thought looked funny and just kept clicking through them. I really should just lock myself in a quiet room with no music or television or people when I need to do homework or study. It'd be the only way I could get things done. It's now 12:30 in the morning and I have been studying for...a while. I don't even know why I'm blogging right now. For distraction, I suppose. So, yesterday I was at the gym and I was filling my water bottle. Then this happened: There was an empty bubbler (or water fountain, if you do not understand Wisconsin slang) next to me and there were two people waiting behind me to drink. Was it the size of the bubbler next to me? It

Why couldn't huge things like the Madison protests have happened when I needed something to joke about during Spelling Bee ? It would have been so easy to make a picketing joke. But nooooo, they had to wait until after, and I got stuck with semi-interesting things like the Harry Potter 7 premiere, and hunting season. Something I am super excited about: Summer Fest. I have never been to Milwaukee Summer Fest before, but this year I am making my first appearance in a huge way: Katy Perry! I'm going with my friend Sara  and we are going to make cupcake bras and wear them in the way back rows and it's going to be super awesome. I don't even care how much everyone stares. I really enjoy Katy Perry. Ever since I heard "I Kissed a Girl" on the radio for the first time, and even more when I heard "Ur So Gay" on YouTube just days later, I've loved her and her music. Last year I thought of the concept for a Katy Perry musical entitled Waking Up in Vega

I don't care who you are, or how drunk you are, if you are white, black, or green . It is NEVER okay to treat a woman, or any person like they are an object. Calling someone a piece of sh*t is NOT a good way to impress ANYONE. Touching them inappropriately is exactly that: INAPPROPRIATE. If she says don't touch her, then DON'T TOUCH HER. DON'T slap her ass, and DON'T kiss her neck when she's facing away from you. Keep your f*cking hands to yourself. If every guy around you is telling you to back off and stop touching her, then take a hint. And don't just move on to the next group of girls to see if you'll get lucky there. Chances are, they'll see how repulsive you are too, and refuse to talk you. But you won't give up, will you? You're too stubborn to give up on a pretty girl. So you'll keep bouncing back and forth between them, seeing which one takes the bait. Standing behind her, rubbing up against her, sliding your filthy hands up and

In honor of these most beloved Hallmark holiday that celebrates chocolate, cards, and general commercialism, I have decided to wear a few clothing items adorned with hearts. My shirt is pink with a keyboard strewn across the front, with purple and blue hearts in the background. My socks are black with two flamingos nuzzling noses (forming a heart shape), with pink hearts all over. I am wearing my peace and love necklace, along with my flamingo-wearing-a-sunhat necklace. You see, I have no one with whom to celebrate Valentine's Day. So to compensate, I'm pooling together all of the things  that I love and just...wearing them. I guess. I'm lame. I love pink. I love music. I love hippies. I love flamingos. And now, the moment you've all been waiting for - The Flamingo Story. When I was in 1st grade, my sister and I played on my dad's softball team. Our team name and sponsor was the Eagles Nest, which is a restaurant in Green Bay. The league was fun by

I enjoy art, and music. I believe in doing passionate in-the-heat-of-the-moment acts for your craft. But one thing I will never understand or partake in is guitar smashing. I don't think that would be a very wise or fun thing to do, especially now that I am a guitar owner. I wish that my mind had a record button, so that I could press record and keep track of all the thoughts that bounce in my head and play them back so that I can write them down here. Stream-of-consciousness is a funny and interesting thing. "Kaleidoscope Heart" is officially my drive-to-Appleton soundtrack. I think I listened to "Let the Rain" about 10 times consecutively tonight. Driving on 41-North at night is a curious thing. Imagine driving down a road, only being able to see silhouettes of trees and signs ahead of you, but the road in front of you seems to taper off and disappears into the darkness. You feel as though you're going to drive off a cliff at any moment, but you don

I just went on an iTunes binge. Here's what I got: "Doo Wops and Hooligans" - Bruno Mars "Live at Soho" - Sara Bareilles "What the Hell" (single) - Avril Lavigne "Born This Way" (single) - Lady Gaga "Hold It Against Me" (single) - Britney Spears "S&M" (single) - Rihanna "Bottoms Up" (single) - Trey Songz "Fuck You" (single) - Cee Lo Green "Far" - Regina Spektor I was tempted to get Weird Al's "Essentials" collection album....but I refrained.  All right. So let me explain myself a little bit here. Bruno Mars Do I even need to explain? I wasn't a huge fan of "Just the Way You Are" at first, because it was OVERPLAYED. Holy crap. But it was so cute, and it made me want a boy to sing those words to me. And then "Grenade" came out, and that's exactly what it was. A grenade. That's how it hit me anyway. What a fabulous song. It'

I am a girl. I eat chocolate. I make wishes at 11:11. I cry at movies. I sing loudly. I wear make-up. I dance like a crazy person. I cut my hair. That's a lie. I have someone else cut my hair. I am not a lady. I am not perfect. Sometimes I don't shower. I eat fast food. I check my phone way too much. I blog. I do not like school. Anymore. I would like for spring to hurry up and get here. I want to go on a date. Every once in a while I enjoy an adult beverage. Or five. I love my family. I drive too fast. I long for warmer climates. I like pink. I am a girl. But I am not a lady. Sounds like a Britney Spears song. I have a headache. I have class in 15 minutes. Goodbye. Peace. Molly

We are theatre folk. This is what we do. For fun. Sweet dreams. Molly

Green Bay is a hellish place today. It's exciting, to work down the street from the place where our team normally plays during the regular season. People gathered in the hotel lobby to watch the biggest football game of the year on a jumbo screen the size of ... something really big, and to eat enough snacks and munchies to choke an elephant. What happens if the Packers lose? These rowdy drunk people would become...rowdy drunk people. It's nice though, that the community can come together rather nicely to support the one thing that we all really can't get away from - the Green Bay Packers. If you live in or around Green Bay, they are your team. If you're in a foreign land and someone asks you from where you hail, you tell them Green Bay and they'll ask if you're a Packer Fan, or they'll make a cheesehead joke. I went to New York City my senior year of high school, and our group (of choir students) was all lined up to board the ferry to Statue of Libe

Dream Record: I'm in my driveway, lots of people are gathered, some are lined up down the street. One of my sister's friends is singing. I'm on the ground, sitting on my feet, someone is standing next to me, and my mom's friend is standing before us, reciting something. This is my wedding... I can feel my mom's disapproval from a mile away. This isn't supposed to be the way my wedding is supposed to go. I'm looking down at the pavement. I'm not going to mention here who the groom is, because that would just be flat out awkward. But I will tell you that it was unexpected, to see him there in my dream. Really, really weird, really. Afterward, I feel ashamed of the whole event and feel like I should tell someone that I don't want it anymore. Suddenly, we're in New York City sitting at a restaurant. Cee-Lo Green's "Fuck You" starts playing at the bar across the street. I look at the ring on my middle finger. I don't know

A love letter to vowels. Dear vowels, I love you. You are beautiful. I love your curves. You complete words. Without you, we would all be lost, or sound really stupid. Please never leave our language, no matter how much you are neglected by today's musicians and people who text. We need you. We love you. I love you. x O x O, Molly Seriously though. What a boring world of English would this be if vowels were eliminated? t wld b prtty brng rght? I'm not going to spend too much time on this as I did in a previous blog , I just wanted to make my feelings for vowels known. Now they know. Srsly. I would like to sled, but for the longest time, I have not. I am incapable of using snow tubes. Every single tube I have ever owned has somehow been punctured, and deflated, and made me cry. I do not enjoy using snow tubes. I remember one specific time at girl scout camp when I had gotten this brand new tube. It was blue, green, white and awesome. There was this big hill

I really hate it when teachers lecture, and then they go to write a word on the board and they segue into it like this: "And he was known for using this term throughout his career--" And then they pause to write it on the board, while you're trying to write it down in your notes, and you're sitting on the side of the classroom that disables your vision when the teacher stands in front of the word that he's writing, so you can't see it and it's really dramatic-like and you just want to write down the stupid word but you can't because they're still writing it.... And this has been a moment of  BLARRGH!! with Molly LeCaptain.

Okay. So one more post before I hit the hay. Why is that even a saying? 'Hit the hay'? Did people sleep on haystacks in barns in olden days? Or did people literally pound their fists into hay in their sleep? Or before going to bed? Whatever. Anyway. My mom was going through a bunch of old files or folders or binders (oh my!) and after a while came to me with a sheet of paper with some typing on it that I knew I should recognize, but didn't quite remember what it was. I read it, and realized it was a social studies project I had written in 2004. Helping me to figure that out were the words "Molly 2004 Soc. Studies Project" written on the bottom. It was an extra credit project in which we could submit alternate lyrics to the Billy Joel song "We Didn't Start the Fire," replacing all the lyrics with situations and events that have occurred throughout our lifetime. So, being the generous and masochistic person that I am, I have decided to share it w