Sister Hazel Necklace

I'm honored to be named as one of Molls' Five Favorite Things of the Week. It's genuinely flattering to receive support from someone like Molls who I respect for her talent, hustle, and wisdom. It's an even bigger honor to be named her "second favorite blogger" (after Caragh, which duh, no one's going to dispute that), considering that she's like a Countess of the Internet.

So yeah, I finally met Molls, and gave her the spiffy necklace she shows off in the video. (I'm referenced in the first segment, but if you keep watching, Molls shows you her bra, so there's your incentive to watch through the end.) It was originally a party favor at a Bar Mitzvah, and even though I never wore jewelry of any kind, I figured if I got a foot medallion (which I think was the most "masculine" option) inscribed with the name of my then-favorite band, maybe I would use it. Well, I never did, and it's a wonder it never got thrown out after fifteen years, but I'm glad Molls can give it a new home. (Said my mom, who I had track it down in my childhood bedroom: "Your friend knows it's not real gold, right?")

Also, I don't normally give jewelry to people the first time I meet them. Let's just make that clear so I don't end up upsetting future first dates or whatever.

I was about to say I had fun playing with Molls' dog Wagandstuff, but looking back I'm pretty sure he was actually playing with me. Even more than cute, Wag is an in-charge kind of pup, and I like that. It was also great spending time with Molls and experiencing her no-nonsense humor in the flesh. It's weird to know a lot about a person and then try to "meet" her. The same goes for Sasha, who was also hanging out, who I often view as more of a cyberbully than a friend. But color me shocked: she's not as rude in person as she comes across on the web. In fact, she might actually be pleasant... sorry if that gossip ruins your internet cred, Sasha. Don't worry, you can still leave insulting comments on my blog/Facebook.

Since Molls blogs about painting nails on the daily, both Sasha and I "got our nails did" by her. Molls chose a sea-foamish Justin Bieber polish for my fingers, and it was when she was nearly done that I started to worry about how I would get it off seeing as I don't own nail polish remover. Sasha suggested I just buy some at the drug store, but that would mean going into a drug store with painted nails. And don't say people might not notice - there's no way when a man buys nail polish remover that the cashier doesn't check out his nails.

That's when I came up with a brilliant solution: I could take a sharpie and scrawl the word PENIS on my forehead. That way, when I went to the drug store people who saw me would assume I had passed out drunk the night before and my friends played pranks on my unconscious body. I mean, sure, it would probably detract from the fact my nails were painted, but I'm going to blame that I even briefly thought that this was a good plan on all of those nail polish fumes I was inhaling.

Update from Sasha:

Zing! There's the bitch I remember.