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Archive | wendy molyneux

The Daily Alison (with guest Wendy Molyneux, parts 1 & 2)

This is the Wendy of Alison and Wendy fame! And other kinds of fame!

Also it was only after I watched this that I realized she didn’t name the dorms we lived in junior and senior year. All of a sudden we were talking about pot and cookies and then I woke up and my clothes were on backwards and the shrinky dinx I’d put in the oven twelve hours before were burned and microscopic.

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Prepare yourself for the return of Wendy and Alison

Have you been missing Wendy and me? I know you have! Well I have good news my little… uh…. (pssst, Ted! What was it you liked to be called? My little empanadas? My little tortillas? My little taquitos? Dammit it’s all so hazy in my brain!)

Anyhoozers, Wendy, who is busy being all busy with her upcoming project which I’m not sure if I can say what it is or not, and I, who is busy (who am busy?) being all busy with just, you know, being busy and shit, and also being important, just like being busy and important, have renewed our blog chat vows and so we’ll be chatting in blog form once more starting very soon. Could you BE more excited?

I don’t think so. And if you could be then I beseech you to hide your lack of excitement. Hide it in a hamper. Hide it under a bushel. Hide it in a napkin and then stuff it in your pocket. Hide it under your pillow. Stuff it in a sock. Stuff it in a sausage. Stuff it in a shoe box. I could go on.

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I'm a thief

As a writer and delightful bon vivant I’m always worried about unintentionally ripping someone off. I’ve talked about this with other writers and whenever a particular word or phrase flies off your fingertips too easily it’s suspect. For example, I recall “alluring down-turned smile” once coming out of me and then wondering where it came from because it didn’t really sound like me.

Anyway! Remember when I wrote that whole good news and bad news post? Titled I Blame Denver? Well I went to Wendy’s blog tonight and looks like she had the good news/bad news construct cornered way before I did. I feel so… stealthy.

Yes, that’s right, I’ll say it. I am proud that I’m stealing. You think I’m going to live by your rules? By society’s rules? I don’t think so. I name my plants and I steal from my friends. It’s just who I am.

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Whose maracas do I need to shake?

Who do I need to blow to get my blog mentioned on Blogs of Note I elegantly asked my friends Mike, er, Duane and Wendy tonight, both of whom have blogs which were recently anointed noteworthy. They couldn’t answer though because they were busy with their thousands of new readers, receiving foot massages and hearing about how great they are and how their writing style is unique and would you like another gold bar and just tell me when you get tired of my going on and on about how you changed my life, it’s just such an honor to meet you.

Finally they got back to me and Mike wanted to know why it’s always that particular sex act that’s equated with a transaction and Wendy told me it was five strangers.

But Mike had a point. When you think about it, why is it always about getting blown?

And so I submit other expressions:

Just who do I have to snuggle with to get a mention?

Just who do I have to spoon to get a mention?

Whose window do I need to clean to get a mention?

Whose car seat do I need to warm? [cold weather only]

Whose gazpacho do I need to chill?

Whose golf score do I need to tally?

Whose stick do I need to swizzle? [I mean this in a cocktail sense! mind out of the gutter, you!]

Whose budgie do I need to teach to talk?

Whose kinks do I need to massage?

Whose mechanical pencils do I need to refill with lead?

Whose ring tone do I need to download?

I could go on all day, but I won’t.

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