They Taste Like Chicken

Dear Molly,

As you know, I'm very concerned for the viral outbreak which will render otherwise affable human beings hungry and desirous for the taste of other human beings' flesh and blood.  What was originally conceived as a joke in my mind has now become a very real and pressing fear of mine.  And yours, I think.  You may not take it quite so seriously as I do, though.

One of my coworkers, when asked if he was "into" zombies, replied evenly and without skipping a beat: "I'm not into zombies; I acknowledge their very real presence in the world."  I thought this was a fantastic retort.  (Just wanted to share that with you.)

However, I just want to stipulate that I don't necessarily believe those infected will be called zombies, per se.  That term finds a better home in the archives of popular culture, I think.  (Though that is a tremendously stupendous series.)  Nor do I really think we will be aware it's happening (the outbreak) until it's much too late.  As usual.  Not until our mothers try to chew our arms off, that is.

That's another fear of mine.  It's one thing to be surrounded by animated dead people who want to tear you to shreds and eat you limb by limb... it's an entirely other thing for those people to be your mom and dad.  It makes me really sad to think about, actually.  I'm feeling a little despondent right now.

Ho hum.

One of the most confounding and profound things to contemplate should this whole scenario go down -- sorry, when this whole scenario goes down -- is what you would do if you were surrounded by a whole mass of them, your mom and dad included in that mass, with only a couple bullets left in your gun.  Assuming you have a gun and ammo to begin with.  What would you do?  Would you kill yourself?  Or would you destroy at least two of them with your bullets before letting them tear you apart?  What if it was you and your best friend... and s/he became infected... would you kill her/him right away, or spend as much time together as you can before s/he turns?

Oh... here comes that wave of depression again.  I am terribly sad thinking about this, and I need your advice as soon as possible.  Now I think I'm going to go crawl under the covers and have a good cry, thinking about my mom wanting to chew me to pieces.

Thanks,
Kate

I'm Lurking In Your Closet

For serious.

Impressions (Good or Bad)

Dear Molly,

I can hear that all the way over here (the other side of the couch).  Since my impressions of Maria Callas' Puccini don't seem to impress you, tell me: what will?  Are you just terminally unimpressed?

Best,
Kate

P.S. -- I'm really not digging the Elvis you're pumping from the iPad.

Thank You

Dear Kate,

I really must thank you for the subscription. At first, I'll admit, I thought of it as a dig and couldn't even imagine reading it, but then the first issue came and I found myself flipping through it and reading intereseting tidbits out loud for the benefit of those within hearing range. Albeit, my wardrobe has taken an interesting turn with the numerous cat faces adorning the fronts of all my shirts, but they just make for good conversation starters, plus a great new business venture (I'm thinking of starting a website called catonmyshirt.com where people can purchase my handmade tees).

But seriously, there actually is some good stuff in this magazine. For instance, did you know a lot of cats do well on a raw diet? I thought this was a good idea for my friend's cat who turns her nose up at even the organic cat food. Also, for my fat, lazy cat they suggest hiding her food in different places around the house, forcing her to excerise. So, yeah, I have been enjoying cat fancy. If that makes me a crazy, then so be it.

-Molly

PS- Also, a sex talk with your cat?? Come on, lets not go too far. After all, my cats are speyed and neutered, thank you very much Bob Barker.

Checking In

Dear Molly,

Just wondering how you've been enjoying Cat Fancy. Have you gotten some great ideas for cat sweaters for the Fall? Counsel on how best to broach the dreaded, awkward Sex Talk? Some outside of the box advice on how to handle a feline who persistently poos, er, outside of the box? Read some charmingly funny stories about some whimsical cats?

Let me know.

Best,

Kate

YO

Dear Molly,

I'M ON ATWOH AND DM LEAVE. School is carrazzzy.

Peace out,
Kate

Well, isn't that just the cat's meow

Dear Kate,

Thank you in advance for the subscription to cat fancy, its given me quite the brilliant idea for homemade Christmas presents. I will attempt to capture your personality through photos of cats and present it to you as a collage. Creative, no? Also, from now on you can expect any cards, be them birthday or St. Swithun's Day, to feature cut-outs of Cat Fancy's cover-cat.

If at all possible, I am going to have a cover-cat screen printed onto a sweatshirt specially for you and I fully expect you to be sporting it when I see you in December.

Thanks again,
Molly

Payback (You Know What They Say)

Dear Molly:

For calling me a hippie, you will receive a one year subscription to Cat Fancy from yours truly. I hope you enjoy it.

I don't know about you, but I'd rather be called a hippie than a cat lady.

Love,

Kate

P.S. -- When your hair starts thinning from all the sulfates and parabens and other horrific chemicals they put in shampoo, don't come crying to me.

P.P.S. -- I'm not kidding about the Cat Fancy. You should expect your first issue in about 2-3 weeks.

Hippies use side door

Dear Kate,

That's dirty. I'm disowning you. Wash you hair with soap, ya damn hippie.

Ew.
Molly

HEY MOLLY, GET A LOAD OF THIS

Dear Molly,

I've decided to stop washing my hair with shampoo. Why, you ask? I don't know, maybe I just don't feel like shelling out the cash for products like these anymore. Or, maybe I just feel like being a little gross. Or, maybe I'm just trying to get a rise out of you from all the way over here. Anyway, my new method of washing my hair is... Are you ready for this?

Baking soda paste every two or three days.

Apple cider vinegar and water every other day.

I hope you're squirming in your khakis and twin set, you Martha-Stewart-worshipping-Connecticut-loving-loafer-wearing-prim-and-proper... something or other. (Let's not get too nasty.)

Best,

Kate

P.S. -- Thanks again for the earrings that came in the mail today. They're totally rad and my new favorites. You're one cool sister.

It's all part of the uniform

Kate,

Yes, I wear khakis. No, my mother does not still dress me. They sit low on my hips, are boot cut, and look great paired with a navy blue polka dot halter top or a crisp white oxford blouse and pearls.

Every WASP has atleast one pair of go-to khakis. Just look at Martha Stewart. Its practically her wardrobe and it serves her beautifully. Nothing says "I come from privilege" like a uniform pair of khakis. Even better if you have a pair of penny loafers to go with them.

Do you know who wears rompers? Babies. Babies wear one piece rompers. Every time you put one of those on, you are basically putting on a very large onesy.

And what's the point of doing a cartwheel if you don't flash people your unmentionables in the process?

-Molly

HITLER WORE KHAKIS

Dear Molly:

You wear khakis? Does your mom still dress you?? Do they have pleats and come up to your belly button and have tapered legs, too?

You know who wore khakis? Hitler wore khakis.

Get with the program. Buy a romper. They're the best things ever. It's like a dress that you can run around and do cart wheels in without flashing everyone. And like I've said, it cuts the dressing time in half.

Go ahead, I implore you to answer the above questions. Smart-mouthed little know-it-all.

Best,

Kate

On the fine art of Laundry

Dear Kate

The only question I came across in your last correspondence was regarding sand and clothing, so I can only assume that you need a lesson in laundry.


I'll let you in on my own methods, since my way is always the right way.


The first step in any project, big or small, is organization. Sort your laundry into wash loads. Seperate the dark from the lights, and then the pull out the heavy items. My piles usually look something like this: Sheets, delicates, and unmentionables; tee shirts, oxford blouses, and kakies; darker slacks, leggings, and sweaters; and demin and workout clothes. If you're counting, which I'm sure you are, that's four piles. This step really shouldn't take you longer than 10 minutes. At most. Maybe when you first start out doing laundry you'll take you time sorting, but soon it will become second nature to you. Oh yes, and I'm sure even you have heard this before, but be careful not to put anything red in with your light load or you'll end up with everything pink.

This is where things get a whole lot easier. Distribute one load of laundry into your washer evenly and be sure not to overload it. Pour a capful of liquid soap into the washer, cap and all (this prevents gunk from building up on the cap, but remember to pull it out at the end of the wash or it makes an annoying clunking sound in your dryer and you're at a loss for the next load), adjust the settings, push start, and walk away. Your first load of wash is underway and you can relax. Now, if you need clarification on adjusting your settings, don't hesitate to ask.

When you wash is done (don't worry, your machine will buzz, you don't have to time it), transfer your wet clothes into your dryer, adjust the settings, and push start. Or, if you are so lucky to have one, hang the clothes outside on the line to dry. Repeat the process with your next load and you've mastered the fine art of doing laundry.

So, I would say, depending on whether or not you use a clothes line to dry your clothes, it takes about an hour and a half to get sand out of your clothes.

Good luck in your search for domestic bliss,
Molly

LOOK WHO THE CAT DRAGGED IN

Dear Molly:

Thanks for finally getting back to me. Unfortunately, you left me hanging just a little too long there, and consequently, I ended up digging a hole and burying myself in it. You know about my penchant for digging holes and burying myself in them out of sheer indecisiveness, so quite frankly, I feel you behaved a bit irresponsibly. No, not a bit; a whole heck of a lot.

Do you have any idea how long it takes to get sand out of your clothes? Next time, be a little more thoughtful, would you? And don't take your role as my advisor so lightly.

Thanks,

Kate

I spent a summer wasting

Dear Kate,

First off, I'm sorry about the lengthy lapse in time between when you wrote me and my response. Summer days get away from me, despite how long they are.

Second, I'm with Katherine. Get it all done now. Why not? You mentioned your sanity, but you've forgotten to consider the fact that you went off your rocker a long time ago. You can't lose something you don't have to begin with.

As much as you like school and want to stay a student forever, I think this option of finishing early and jumping right into a career as the slightly insane English teacher who reads Edgar Allan Poe's "The Black Cat" to 2nd graders and finds it amusing when the leave the class n near tears.

Molly

Re: Grad School

Dear Molly,

I have the opportunity to finish grad school by next May. The catch is that I'd have to take five classes this fall and three classes in the spring along with student teaching. Then I'd get to have an actual graduation ceremony (which I missed out on when I got my B.A.), and I'd have my Master's next spring and be certified to teach for the following fall.

What do you think? Should I cram it all in in one year and possibly sacrifice my sanity for the sake of getting it over with? Or should I just do it over the normal two year period most graduate students do? It all costs the same, by the way. And I could still get a job teaching without my certification.

Thanks,

Kate

Breaks Are Good

Dear Molly,

I haven't been here in three weeks. So, for the sake of continuity, here is my explanation for the break in Dear Molly (and All the Way Over Here).

You already know I've been sick. I'm not sick anymore, but I still don't feel much like writing. I also haven't talked much to you in general, but that has more to do with not really wanting to talk than it does not wanting to talk to you. Don't take it personally. (You probably don't anyway.)

Also... grad school is getting kind of crazy with midterms and papers and professors who annoy the hell out of me. It's been keeping me kind of busy. Oh, and I got this new part-time job as a research assistant/project coordinator at a radio show on NPR. It's turning into more work than I thought it would be, but I suppose it's good because A) it keeps me busy so I don't go nuts out of boredom in my downtime from school, and B) I can stop living off of student loans. (Woo-hoo.)

Maybe a couple more weeks?

Best,

Kate

Ka-nock Ka-nock!

Dear Eager,

It just so happens, at one point in my life, I happen to have been faced with the very same problem as you are now. Can you believe somebody close to me failed to realize just how funny I actually am?

Here's what I did to combat it: every time I saw or spoke to this person I would tell them a new joke. I'll give you a few to start off with.

This is my favorite joke:

Three statisticians go hunting and they spot a deer. The first statistician takes a shot and misses a foot to the right. The second takes a shot and misses a foot to the left. The third guy starts jumping up and down yelling "I got it! I got it!"

HA! Still gets me every time.

Or how bout this for a little foreign humour:

Q:Why do the french only have one egg for breakfast?
A: Because, in France, one egg is an oeuf! (pronounced like enough)

If I could write in a French laugh here, I would, trust me.

These are just to help you get the ball rolling, if you need more just ask me or use the reference site for A Prairie Home Companion: Pretty Good Jokes (they're being modest). But remember its important to really drive home the point, don't lighten up on the jokes until you're sure that your sister gets just how funny you are. Its good to catch her off guard, too. Might I suggest calling her at six in the morning and starting the conversation with:

A guy walks into a bar with a set of jumper cables. The bartender takes one look at him, sighs, and says, "Alright, I'll serve ya', but don't try an start anything".

Cue the obligatory cymbal crash!
-Molly

Reader Question #1

Dear Molly:

I just learned that my sister thinks that I am not funny. Not funny like a boring old college professor who recycles knock-knock jokes not funny. I think she may be referencing my third grade paper where I informed my teacher that among the genetic traits I inherited was my mother’s lack of sense of humor. However, I would like to point out that years of practice and education have overcome what the genes dealt me.

How can I make her realize how wrong she is?

Eager to set the record straight,

Megan

Bugs. They don't deserve your compassion.

Dear Kate,

You're just a pansy. Don't think, for one moment, that if those ants had the chance they wouldn't kill you.

You know what freaks me out? How tiny they are. Be careful where you fall asleep cause those little buggers will crawl right up your nose. Biggest fear right there. Tiny insects that can crawl into your orifices. That, and raccoons that will eat your face.

Kill those MFers! Don't hesitate! By any means necessary, destroy all the ants! And the earwigs. And the beetles and ladybugs. Oh, and any stickbugs you might come across. FREAKY. Moths, too. They flutter around at high speeds. Can't trust anything like that. Butterflies aren't so fast so they can live, but definitely kill all moths.

-Molly