There's nothing more embarrassing than when a person thinks s/he has written a hilarious but self-deprecating blog post, only to receive a concerned call from his/her relatives the next morning. It probably comes as no surprise, then, that this morning, my father called me and said, "Molly, I read your blog yesterday, and I wanted to make sure you're doing okay. You seemed pretty down on yourself,"

I assured him, "I'm fine, Dad," and tried to explain that I was trying to be humorous, rather than genuinely down-trodden and morose. Sure, I feel stressed out about my current employment situation, but at the same time, everything that I said yesterday was meant to be more of a caricature of how I feel rather than some lame and emo lament. Regardless, we spent the next forty-five minutes discussing how I need to be more patient with myself.

My Dad rules. Everybody likes him. He has a great sense of humor, he's really silly, sincere, sweet, and sensitive. When we have these heart-to-hearts, he always compares my trite and insignificant strife with his battle with leukemia. Bottom line, I feel I should make it clear: I do not feel THAT sorry for myself, I just want to be funny! Anyway, here is a doofy picture.



Usually on Thursdays, I go to my unpaid internship (or, at least, paid in sandwiches and comic books) at PictureBox publishing house. For some reason which currently eludes me, though, I had today "off." Still, I felt compelled to try to do some work so that when I go there tomorrow, I have something to show for myself. So now, I can proudly say, I have effectively gone through almost all of the tables of contents from issues of The Comics Journal, 1970-2009 and noted key words for each issue. Very riveting stuff.

In other news, I have been watching a WHOLE LOT of T.V., even though my apartment currently does not really have cable. Without a Trace is not a good show, but here is a picture I drew based off of a character from that show, who was having a conniption fit over her kid's disappearance, while I was loafing.



This evening, my roommate, Sarah, has convinced me (it didn't take much) to drink some wine and hang out in the living room and watch a little boob tube. Since around the time I began college, I had not been especially interested in television, until I discovered how HILARIOUS some current television shows are. Thursday nights on NBC are a shining example of such brilliant television. So I was up for waiting around to watch Parks and Recreation and 30 Rock. Before either of those shows started, though, we watched some sort of public broadcast channel about wildlife.



Tomorrow I am going to work not only at PictureBox, but also at Anthropologie (my super-respectable, high-profile retail gig), so I will have much more exposure to the bizzaro NYC population. Perhaps, (if I'm lucky) I will have a zanier story to report soon.