Saturday, April 23, 2011

Party Girl

Yesterday was my 21st birthday. I got some amazing presents. I really did. But I just want to tell you about the best present I have ever received. I have two words for you. Wine bra. Now, take a moment to ponder that. A wine bra by Wine Rack. It is like a Camelback on your boobs. And it holds an entire bottle of wine (or whatever else you fancy). My dear friend Taylor Cottingham got it for me. She knows me so well. I have had the Wine Bra in my wishlist for over a year now. In addition to getting me the awesome Wine Bra, she also gave me my favorite bottle of red wine. She remembered I liked it when last summer we went to the Alluvian for a girls day with Alexa and went to dinner. I ordered us this particular bottle, because it was the only one I recognized. (My dad buys it by the case. We really like wine at my house.) 

Now, back to my wine bra. Do you see all that glory? It makes you 2 cups sizes bigger when it is full. Taylor and I tried it last night... with water (should have had all that water last night...). I look like Beth Chapman, Dog the Bounty Hunter's wife. Good Lord! I will be wearing it with a turtleneck! Many girls wear these to football games to sneak in booze. I may (or may not) be wearing this every day. Any ways, It is the best present I have ever received from a friend. 

This was how excited I was after opening it at Doe's: 

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

A Grim Turn

I love John Prine. I have been to only two of his concerts but I hope to go to more in the future. He is amazing and there is no song of his that I don't like. I am going to go ahead and forgive those of you who don't know who he is. 

One of my favorite songs ever is Please Don't Bury Me. I sing it just about every day to myself. Now, Ellen Kent and I have made a pact. Who ever dies first the other one has the just star singing it in the middle of the funeral. And in our little fantasy pact, everyone just starts singing in with her. We know that most people don't know the song but I am posting the lyrics too so you can learn it. Not that either one of us are planning on dying anytime soon! 

I urge you to go look up John Prine. Virginia, Ellen Kent, and I had a wonderful time seeing him in Birmingham last March. So these are the lyrics.

Woke up this morning
Put on my slippers
Walked in the kitchen and died
And oh what a feeling!
When my soul
Went thru the ceiling
And on up into heaven I did ride
When I got there they did say
John, it happened this way
You slipped upon the floor
And hit your head
And all the angels say
Just before you passed away
These were the very last words
That you said:

Please don't bury me
Down in that cold cold ground
No, I'd druther have "em" cut me up
And pass me all around
Throw my brain in a hurricane
And the blind can have my eyes
And the deaf can take both of my ears
If they don't mind the size

Give my stomach to Milwaukee
If they run out of beer
Put my socks in a cedar box
Just get "em" out of here
Venus de Milo can have my arms
Look out! I've got your nose
Sell my heart to the junkman
And give my love to Rose

Repeat Chorus

Give my feet to the footloose
Careless, fancy free
Give my knees to the needy
Don't pull that stuff on me
Hand me down my walking cane
It's a sin to tell a lie
Send my mouth way down south
And kiss my ass goodbye

Repeat Chorus

Monday, April 18, 2011

The Story of Lucky the Ducky

I know I have already talked about 2 pets of mine but I am about to talk about another. What sparked this one today is Easter. When I was younger every couple of years we would get baby ducks for Easter. Therefore, this is the Lucky the Ducky story. 

So one Easter, my family got 4 ducklings for Easter. My grandmother also got 2 and for Easter church service we put them together at my grandmothers. When we arrived home her 2 were dead and 3 of ours were too. Therefore the only living duck was named Lucky. 

Lucky was a male mallard duck and he lived outside with our dogs once he was grown. We had an old beagle (who was a rescue, abused dog that would not let us touch him) named George, and a rat terrier named Sugar (who was the most hyper annoying dog). Well, since Lucky really grew up with the dogs, he himself thought he was a dog. 

Have you ever heard a duck bark? Lucky "quackbarked". He also chased cars. It was kind of a waddle-jump-fly-waddle motion of chasing. We would have to drive a few times around the circle of our neighborhood. Lucky also slept curled up between the two dogs at night. It was really cute.

Unfortunately, one fall he disappeared. My parents told me he flew south for winter but I still don't believe them. But just like Speedy now, every mallard duck I see, I think it is Lucky the Ducky who thought he was a dog. 

Molly Weissinger

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Slug Bait

I realize the level of my craziness tonight and I was watching slugs down and die in the yard tonight with a HUGE grin on my face. (That level is a little higher than it was about 3 hours ago.) 

Backtrack... watching slugs die. Yes. OK so... in gardening a way to kill slugs (other than putting salt on them... so fun by the way though still) is to put a little beer in a small container. They think it is water, get drunk, fall in, drown, and die. It is so much fun to watch them fall in and struggle before dying. (CRAZY! ok I know.) 

Right now there is a really big one in my front yard in some Tupperware. I tried to take a picture of it for you all but alas, the world is against me. See, first off I lost my camera so I grab my dads. I get out there and it dies. So I grab my mom's camera. Take it out there, take pictures, then remember her card is different and not compatible to my computer. So back to dads camera. No batteries in the freezer, so I grab a remote and put its batteries in the camera. It dies once I got out there again. The world is against me! 

Hopefully I can get a picture of the dead slugs in beer later. Maybe. 

My saturday night consisted of dinner with my parents, watching slugs die, and then blogging. Ugh. I am too young to be old. 


Friday, April 15, 2011

Opening Doors

I saw something yesterday that just disgusted me. Two students were headed to class and they seemed like boyfriend and girlfriend. When they got to the door, he opened it and just walked in before her. He did not open the door for her.

Is chivalry dead? If so, when did it die? Or is it still in the process of croaking? I may be a little old fashioned but come on! Men, I am not asking you to open every car door, carry every bag, or simple make a woman feel inferior, but open the damn door when going into a building! And I mean for all women too. If you are not opening doors for women in public, you are making a huge ass of yourself. Open a door and give a smile. It is not that hard, sometimes we just need a reminder.

Molly Weissinger

Thursday, April 14, 2011


I have never heard someone be so honest before last night. Needless to say, it made me smile and about fall out laughing. I think I loved the whole situation because I occasionally come across a similar situation.

So this is from the other night. I went to dinner with my friend Ellen Kent and her dad. We were sitting in the bar part of the restaurant waiting on Mr. Warren to get in. In walks Mr. Warren's ex girlfriend. The moment she sees Ellen Kent she stops and her eyes get huge. Ellen Kent looks up at that moment and starts shaking her head. The ex was having dinner with her new boyfriend who she was supposedly cheating on Mr. Warren with. The new boyfriend sits down and the ex said, "NO! This isn't going to work." Mind you, this is the delta and the restaurant bar has only 3 tables in it. She then asks, "Ellen Kent, want us to move?" Before the question was asked, Ellen Kent replied with a stern, "YES!" So yeah they left, but Ellen Kent's honestly was so bold. I would have just freaked out and closed my eyes wishing I was somewhere else. Not unusual for me though.

The reason I love how honest Ellen Kent was with her dad's ex girlfriend is simply because I don't have that kind of pure honesty. I much rather beat around the bush and try to be polite. Although, being so polite backfires and I end up being miserable.

Also with this story, I know exactly how Ellen Kent felt the moment "she" walked in. That deep thud in the pit of your stomach, your heart immediately beating so hard, you start breathing heavy and the only thing in your head now is "OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT". It happens to me on regular occasion when I see a certain someone in Greenville. Again here, I am going to be polite and use the rule my mother taught me: if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all.

So tell me what you think. Do you have a someone that you are afraid of running into?


Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Retribution to the Insufficiently Ridiculed, Part II

Ph.D. Students / Teacher’s Assistants (T.A.s)

Stands for Power-tripping (or Pretentious), Hipster, Degree. Ph.D. candidates are a group of graduate students who have attained their bachelor’s and master’s degrees, but have decided not to get a job and almost triple their time spent in college. Ph.D. students work very closely with tenured professors and help teach larger classes. The Ph.D. student becomes who the undergraduates must consult because he holds the grade book.

Teaching always seems to be an awkward experience for Ph.D. students. They never know what image to present. Usually, they start off with the “Man, I’m so cool. You’re a student. I’m student, even though I am kind of a teacher. Whooohohohoah! Crazy! Please call me Bob. Mr. Smith is my dad’s name.” The naïve undergraduate thinks, “Clearly this person is going through a quarter life crisis and will be an easy grader so he can make younger friends. After all, he must have planned his outfit by typing “trendy” into Google search.”  

The undergraduate learns that the Ph.D. student’s degrees make him feel far superior to the world, and the T.A. proves his intellect by being a demanding grader. Eventually, the undergraduate further learns that Ph.D. students do not sit on top of desks and wear tight jeans because they’re trying to seem cool, but because they are hipsters. Earlier this year, my thirty-two year old sister-in-law asked me what a hipster was. I tried to explain, but all I could say was, “you know those people who give you the vegan vibe….” I sent her the Wikipedia page for hipster.

After reading, she said, “Sounds like my T.A.s.” She graduated college in 2001 when hipsters were not nearly as prevalent. Ph.D. students were hip before it was even cool. The only Ph.D student parody I have ever seen was a short comic written for Ph.D. students by a Ph.D student. The comic strip accused Ph.D. students of scaring off younger minds by being much harder working than the rest of society. Lord help me. 
A stalker shot of one of my former T.A.s.
 Everyone got a bad grade in the class.

Michael Elwes Graney

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Motorcycle Riding Son-of-a-gun

This is a little off the beaten path again but I want to share with your more of the looniness that goes on in my head. You might not have known this but I have always wanted a motorcycle. It took some serious thinking as to how this sparked in me and it came to me yesterday after discussing with Laura Smith. 

So the answer to my love for motorcycles comes down to this. Grease 2. No really, I love Grease 2. Love is still an understatement. But really it breaks down to 3 things about Grease 2. 

1. Cool Rider. Michele Pfeiffer as Stephanie Zinone singing Cool Rider. Sums up that this girl wants a cool motorcycle riding guy, or better yet, a cool rider. 

2. Maxwell Caulfield as Michael Carrington. I was determined to think I was going to marry a man named Michael (irony). He was a hunk! Those abs, that hair! check it The black leather pants.


3. Who's That Guy.  This song just encompasses the whole coolness of having a motorcycle. It is cool. I wish a guy would learn to ride a motorcycle for me and by all mysterious. So sexy.

You know in kindergarten how there is one movie you watched every day? Mine was Grease 2. I know the movie was a huge flop. I just loved the song Reproduction. (You look it up yourself.) 

So that is why I love motorcycles and want one so badly. I want to be that cool. It is never going to happen, unfortunately. 


Dear Friends

Sorry I have been so aloof. I have my reasons. Perhaps I will blog about them sometime, but now I need to finish my short-winded series. Thank you for reading.

Michael Elwes Graney

Monday, April 11, 2011

2nd Pet Post

I do realize that this is my second post that has to do with pets of mine. I am sorry but I still want to tell you about Lucky the Ducky someday too. So now, on to the story of Peachy.

Peachy was a Peach Faced Love bird. When I was 3 my Aunt Maggie had two Love Birds and I stayed with her one weekend. At that time they were making lots of eggs but none of the eggs were hatching. I made Aunt Mag promised that if one hatched, I would get it. Well, one hatched and she did not want to give it to me. So, after a few angry phone calls I got the bird. She already named it Peachy though.

If you know anything about Love Birds, they need companions. Peachy did not have one so he was mean. M.E.A.N. He would bite you every time you tried to feed him and would do a death grip on your finger until you bled. Needless to say, he was not my favorite pet.

Well, in the spring we would take the cage outside to let him breath fresh air and interact with other birds. One spring (about 2005) he just started making weird noises and he was getting sick. I came home from school one day to find him lying at the bottom of the cage.

My aunt had an... um... extreme attachment to poor Peachy. Our plan was to have Peachy stuffed and put on display. So we put him in a ziplock bad and put him in the garage deep freezer. Not the first bird in a ziplock bag. (I used to collect dead birds when I was little and freeze them. I am kidding you. I brought one to show and tell in the first grade one time.)

Poor Peachy is still sitting in our freezer. And we don't know any taxidermists to stuff a pet bird. So there you go Morgan Hough, the story of Peachy.

Also mentioned Only In The Delta.


Sunday, April 10, 2011

Easter Hats

Easter. It is an important time to southerns. It marks the start of Spring and a new wardrobe including white. 

If you grew up in a church such as mine (lots of judging old people, huge terrible sounding organ, very conservative, and God forbid you walk in late) you would know that Easter Sunday church service is for one thing and one thing only. To see which lady has the best hat. It is not about Jesus, eggs, a bunny, or your white Ferragamos with the bow and gold buckle. It is about who has the biggest, frilliest, most matching hat. Every year there is that one lady who gets the honorary prize that is compliments and judging looks from others. It is a coveted position. 

And, yes, I do already have my hat but unfortunately it is no new prize winner.  

This is me and Ellen Kent Hammet Easter sunday 1994. Although too young to wear hats Ellen Kent is sporting an enormous white bow in her hair and although unrecognizable I have large curly Texas hair. Please note the white stockings on me and the lacy socks on Ellen Kent.



This was our amazing camp site.

Do you remember the fist time you went camping? I do. I was about 4 and in the pecan orchard on our farm. I made it out there until the coyotes started howling at about 11. Well, last night I gave three boys their first camping experience. Mac, Alex, and Luke spent the night with me in a tent in my backyard.

Before you start thinking that anything is weird, let me explain. They are all 7 and Mac is my neighbor and good buddy. I babysit him all the time. All three boys go to my church and I know their parents. It is not weird at all.

I picked them up for Mac's house about 9:30 last night after I was done babysitting someone else. We made Jiffypop popcorn on the stove. Mac told me his version of the history of Jiffypop. Apparently it is from a long time ago in the 80s. That makes me feel old. We also made a small fire in the fire pit and found "slug city" on my patio. Luke accidentally stepped on one barefoot and got "slug juice" all over me. I still don't feel clean.  We also found the "queen of slug city" and she was about 5 inches long and had big antennae. I don't know how 7 year olds can go on that little sleep and still have so much energy. They were up before 6:30 this morning. I can't remember the last time I woke up at 6:30!

So I sure this isn't all that amusing to you and I am sorry. But just ask yourself, would you ever sleep in a tent with three 7 year olds? I can't believe I did. I can't believe I survived it. Now, I am going to take a nice long nap.


Friday, April 8, 2011

Only In the Delta

We all have that saying where you say "only (insert where you are from)".  Obviously here is it "only in the delta". Well, today I understood the levity of the phase. This post will simply be a short description of the latter part of my day.

My dad, a farmer, called me and asked him to close up shop today. I arrived at the farm about 6:30 pm. I hop on a tractor and go out to meet him. Granted I did need a little help on how to get the tractor going and out of the shed. My dad unfortunately forgot to explain how to accelerate so I cruise the whole quarter mile going 7 miles per hour. Yes, 7. This whole drive I am texting friends from highschool discussing the recent tragic death of a classmate. Once I arrive to where my dad is planting soybeans he tells me to drive back and shows me how to accelerate this time. I cranked it to 24 miles per hour on the way back. The sun was setting and there is only one thing that is more beautiful than a delta sunset and that is a delta sunrise. I was pretty joyful to see the sun go down on this day.

Cruising at 7mph

I had to pee while at the farm. So I did. Only in the delta, I know. So, I peed outside. The only really sad part about this is that this was the second time I contemplated peeing outside today. I was "this" close from doing it in Laura and Wesley Smith's back yard this afternoon. 

I got home and realize my mother is already "asleep" for the night. So I start on dinner and make a martini. While looking for shrimp in the "garage freezer" (because we have 2 others. One in the kitchen and one in the laundry room). What to find? Oh yes. Peachy. My pet bird that I had for 11 years. Ooooh, but he died in 2004 or 2005. I don't really remember but there he was in a 'Zip Lock' bag. There is an awesome back story to Peachy but that is for another day, my friends. 

So that was my evening. Now where ever you are from I wish you would tell me and give an example of an "only __(here)____". 

Molly Weissinger

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Curtsy Tutorial

Ladies, this is my very laid-back video of how to curtsy. I hope you enjoy it and find it helpful and maybe even humorous. 

*For WHATEVER reason the video and the sound is a little off. I am sorry. I don't know how to fix that. I am going to try again but no promises.*

Yes, VESers, I am wearing Andrew's penny from highschool. I have in fact moved on from highschool but I just was wearing that penny today to work out in. Believe it. 
Also, sorry for the bad quality and the fact that it says "clock" at the very beginning of the video. My computer tells me the time (it was 9pm) and I just used PhotoBooth.

Molly Weissinger

Retribution to the Insufficiently Ridiculed, Part I

High School Seniors

On film, they are portrayed by actors, of all different ages, at the peak of their physical beauties. Off screen, in the classroom, they are celebrated by the rest of their school community. Chatter among faculty, staff, and students centers on the social, romantic, and professional lives of seniors. Outsiders often choke-up when they walk past a group of 12th graders nonchalantly hanging out together in the center of the school like kings and queens on display for the whole school to see. Even now, I am in disbelief that I am two years older than they.

For years seniors have thrived on their image by pulling pranks, taking days off school, rarely going to class, hazing underclassmen, wearing matching t-shirts, etcetera, etcetera. My graduating class was just as arrogant as the lot of them. Once, we did not win a spirit competition and nearly staged a coup d’état. After we went to college, we all assimilated into our respective new lives, but when the homecoming game came around, everyone, even the most disenchanted members of the class, returned to relive the glory days. Much to our surprise, the school still functioned without us. The seniors (who we would not admit were no longer juniors) were just as pompous as we were. One member of the class, codename Rita Poone, said, “No way we are as obnoxious as you guys. Everyone loves us!” Shortly after, a younger student said, “I thought you guys were cocky, but I did not know the meaning of the word until that class became seniors.”The cycle continues, but I do not blame seniors. I slightly blame school administrations and parents who commission senior portraits. However, the real fault lies with the television, movie, and YouTube video producers who have not dealt sufficient justice to high school seniors.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

What To Expect When Expecting

Recently, I have drawn inspiration from our blogging rival, Sarah Patterson, and decided to start a series of short winded posts. The title of my series will be “Retribution to People in Our Society Who Are Not Sufficiently Ridiculed.” I will discuss groups or classes of people who I feel are not only over-glorified, but need to be mocked. If you find that you fit into one of these classifications, I was only kidding. Otherwise, I was very serious. I hope you enjoy the series.

Michael Elwes Graney

Friends of Coal

As you know, I am from the Mississippi Delta. I seem to have a kinship with West Virginia. Two of my best friends are from the state. I think it might have to do with the fact that West Virginia and Mississippi are the shit end states. The only state that competes for the 49th spot with Mississippi is West Virginia. High teen pregnancy, obesity, and illiteracy rates are just a few that make our states so "great". I like to think of the delta as flat West Virginia.

Obviously, the delta has a plethora of farmers. What is the WV equivalent? Coal miners. Spike has a new TV show that I am in LOVE with. It is simply called Coal. For those friends that watch Swamp People and Swamp Loggers I urge you to watch this show. Here is a link to watch Coal. (Coal) WATCH IT! But if you are pressed for time and just want to watch a clip here you go (Mine).

Please those of you who know Michael tell me what you think of this once you watch it. On the show is a 20 year old named Andrew. I personally like to think of him as Michael if he wasn't as fortunate and had to work in the coal mines. Tell me if you agree or not. Michael can't watch it right now because he is a good Catholic boy and gave up internet TV ( for lent. And he doesn't have time to watch Spike 24/7 just to catch Coal.

I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think. As proud as I am to be a farmer's daughter, I love Loretta Lynn's song Coal Miner's Daughter. I wish I could sing a song so passionately. So I may have wrong reasons for being a "friend of coal" but I am ok with that.

And I am sorry for the lengthy posts. I am going to try and start keeping them shorter.

Molly Weissinger

I Am A Piece Of $#!+...

…Continued from a post written by Michael Elwes Graney on March 29, 2011

On Thursday, I was woken up by a phone call from the bookstore. The man on the other line said, “Mr. Graney, you’re laundry is finished. We would like you to come by soon, if that is alright, because there is not enough space here.” I answered, “Yeah, sure. I’ll be there today,” planning to show up around noon.
I drive up to the bookstore and walk inside. Upon entering, I see a man on a cell phone who looked like he just spent three nights at the library. He looked at me, took a deep breath, and said into his cell phone, “he just walked in.” Then he shouted to everyone in the back room, “He’s here! Get ready!” He turned back to his phone and said, “I’ll call you back to tell you how the laundry situation turns out.”

He looks at me and opens up his notebook. Then he says, “You have more hanging bags full of khakis, button downs, and polo shirts than I can count. You also have ten trash bags filled with your t-shirts, athletic shorts, underwear and socks. You’re going to need a car with some room in it.” I told him I thought I had enough room. He sighed and went to the back room to hand me my first hanging back. By the time I returned from placing the hanging bag in my back seat, the entire bookstore staff was carrying out hanging  bags of laundry from the back room while the man who was at the counter hurriedly talked on the phone, frantically trying to sort out a pile of Laundromat tickets.

For the next twenty minutes, I carried hanging bags out to my car. The staff, while helping me rid the bookstore of hanging bags, continuously chuckled at the situation and told jokes throughout the entire process. One guy said, “They got the marine core working over there at the Laundromat.” Another man said, “You must have set the Guinness book of world records and they aren’t even going to let anybody else try to break your record for at least another few decades.” One employee said, “I have worked here for years, and all the people in the past combined have not brought in this much laundry. You must not have any clothes left.” The saddest part of the story is that I could have lasted a couple more weeks without picking up my laundry.

Finally, I loaded all the hanging bags into the car. I went back inside to begin loading all the trash bags filled with laundry. The bookstore was nice enough to let me borrow an industrial cart to haul my laundry so I only had to make a few trips. After thirty minutes of carrying clothes out to my car, I waited by the counter to close the transaction with the bookstore clerk.

He was still on the phone, “…so he actually had 415 pounds of laundry! This is something you’d see in a Rodney Dangerfield movie. So I counted # (I forgot how many tickets there were, but I can count as soon as I check my car where I left them) tickets on the hanging bags and ten tickets on the trash bags. Is that the same number you got over there? Ok, let me count again……..Ok! There we go. Wait. One more time…..#. Did you get the same thing? Ok, good.”

He hangs up the phone, and says to me, “I would advise that you never tell anyone about all this laundry because you’ll never get married.” Then he went into a hysterical fit of laughter. All the other staff members and he began another wisecrack spree, which went on a while. A few of the notable mentions from this reel were, “Maybe you can wear these for the next six months and you go have your laundry done twice a year,” “when they came to pick it up, the guy just looked at me with a straight face and said, ‘where does he live?’,” “they probably shut down the whole Laundromat, brought in the Laundromat reserves team, used several laundry trucks, and shut down a couple of highways just for your laundry,” and, “yo momma  gonna kiiilll you boy!” Before I left, the man at the counter insisted on taking a picture of my car before I returned home.

The day I returned from the Laundromat, I hung up the clothes that were already on hangers. However, I did not put away the clothes in the trash bags. At first, I left the bags on my bed opting to sleep on the couch until I put all the clothes away. In the middle of the weekend, at an advanced hour, I decided I wanted my bed back and relocated all of the bags to the floor where they were before I took them to the Laundromat. Eventually, I ran out of socks and began removing pairs from the bags as needed.

Today, I finally decided that I was going to put away all the clothes in the bags, which took forever and a kalpa*. During this time, I spent 90 minutes on the phone with four different people (verified on the calls log) and I ordered a pizza which had time to arrive. My readers who are familiar with Charlottesville know that pizza can sometimes take hours to be delivered. At various points, my dresser fell over and all the useless things I have acquired fell on my floor. Finally, I finished putting away all of my clothes (that is a lie). Now my floor is covered in plastic trash bags, flash cards, Mardi Gras beads, St Patrick’s Day Beads, pencils, Coffee table…I mean textbooks, and the blinds that I accidentally ripped of my window last semester.  

I like to think of myself as a college survivor. Do not worry about me. My room will be clean by Thursday when my aunt comes over, and I will have photos as proof. ;)

*kalpa – a Sanskrit word used to describe “the amount of time it takes for one of the Himalayan mountains to erode when an angel brushes her sleeve against the top, once every hundred years.”

Wondering what happens when I go to the bookstore now? Wondering about my roommate’s comments or involvement? Are you my roommate? How am I keeping up with my laundry now? What did my parents say? Want to know more of the bookstore employees wisecracks? If any of these questions apply to you, comment and I shall reply.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011


What is the greatest holiday in the delta? Christmas is nice with the floats on the creek, halloween is ok too, but nothing compares to the 4th of July in the delta. A delta 4th of July can be summed up in two words: Lake Washington. Now, you ask "Fofa"? Fofa is how it is said. 4th of July is "tha fofa july". I realize today is April 5 but I just want to educate you so that you can go ahead on start booking your plane tickets to come here for the holiday.

For the 4th of July we all go out to Lake Washington and stand (well doggy paddle or float for those who can't reach... AKA me) at the sandy spot on the edge of the lake. Then drink beer. It really is that simple. People bring out their boats and load them down with coolers full of beer. Also, some food and some party barges grill. We just stand there and drink. What about bathrooms, you ask? Drinking all that beer does make you have to go. Well, to put it simple... you don't want to get lake water in your beer. Yes, we are swimming in the water we are peeing in. I wish I could tell you that it really bothers me, but it doesn't. It is just part of summer time.

Yumm... doesn't that water look nice?

Another great part of Fofa is well, our costumes. I say costumes because I would like to think that we wouldn't wear this on a normal basis, although it isn't necessarily true. The usual male outfit for Fofa is cut off jeans. Yes, we do own real swimsuits. We just choose to wear the stylish cut offs. For the ladies, American flag bikinis from Wal-Mart. Even for the "curvy" girls like myself. (I chose to wear a nice American flag sleeveless shirt over it.) The goal is to look at redneck as possible. It is in fact a goal that we achieve with flying colors.

What makes someone stand out at the Fofa celebration? Awesome huggies (coozies), funny flotation devices, or anything that is so incredibly redneck it blows everyone else out of the water. My secret weapon for this year will be a beer helmet. Like those hats with the two cup holders and the straws. They make camouflage ones. Hell yeah! And maybe even a Confederate flag swimsuit. Yes, that goes against 4th of July technically but I mean, its Mississippi! So please note in this picture Carlile and Alden's bikini and huggie with straps around the neck along with hats/visors. The epitome of cool.

And just so you know, we say this constantly, "God Bless America. If you don't like it, you can get out!"

Another great thing about Lake Washington is the wild life... i.e. alligators.  OK! I know this is not a real alligator. This is in fact my inflatable alligator ironically named Turtle. But we really do have alligators!

Also, only here can you kayak surf.

And don't worry. We do have some fireworks towards the end of the evening. Just so you know, a Lake Washington sunset is beautiful. See?

So, I invite you and everyone else who would like to join us in these festivities to come on down. You are always welcome in the delta.

Molly Weissinger

Monday, April 4, 2011

"So College"List, Top 101

2. Taking a hangover prescription to the pharmacy, and handing them a fake ID because that is the only type of identification able to be locate after ten minutes of searching for a real ID
3. Kissing  a person because you think he/she is Filipino, but you find out in the morning he/she had red hair, blue eyes, and was not Filipino at all
4. The smell of vomit, beer, and socks
5. Computer on the chest, TV turned on, text messaging, not really paying attention to any of the screens
6. If only the midterm were on Facebook, TFLN, FML, or this blog….
7. Winging a presentation that will make or break your GPA
8. Pulling all nighters without even thinking about it
9. Claiming to be broke, but manage to accumulate $100 bar tabs
10. Showing up in a different state or country, close to midnight, unannounced
11. Talking your way out of speeding tickets
12. Waking up in the wrong place
13. Scavenger hunts around town in order to find important belongings
14. Stealing signs
15. Not remembering the last time you went to bed before 1 AM
16. Crossing the street without looking
17. J-walking
18. Exercising twice a year
19. Ripping through cash
20. Not knowing what to do in life
21. Church service is at 9 PM
22. Everyone in the neighborhood is under 22 except for that strange man who lives downstairs
23. Cops not having the time to care what students do
24. Wall to wall pizza boxes
25. Ordering food to avoid washing dishes
26. Pretending to read
27. A sea of laundry
28. Questioning how standing in a college apartment shower is going to make anyone cleaner
39. Varying depths of friendship
30. Is anyone in the bar actually 21?
31. Costumes
 32. Anything free is more coveted than anything priced at $1,000,000
33. Booty call roll call
34. Never getting a haircut
35. Running away from cops
36. Going to the library only to get on Facebook
37. Long-lasting raspy voices
38. Taking classes which hand out A’s and talk about the white supremacy conspiracy
39. Teachers who are insane
40. Nothing in moderation, not even moderation
41. Never using a suitcase
42. Too lazy walk to the kitchen to get food
43. A person who fills his car up with gas, one gallon at a time
44. The thought, “my life is in shambles”
45. Text messaging people when you really shouldn’t
46. Cheap sunglasses
47. A routine is out of the question
48. Gaining weight
49. Surfing the web in class
50. Bullshitting
51. not real life people
52. Designated hangover shoes
53. No breakfast, three lunches, dinner at 10:30 PM
54. People who hand out “save Africa by eating tacos” flyers to boost their resumes
55. Being stingy about odd things
56. Consciously making poor life choices
57. Doing chores to avoid doing work
58. free time associated with guilt
59. realizing how important parents really are
60. making a phone call at 12:30 AM is completely acceptable
61. beaus foes and hoes
62. people who drive luxury cars and wear luxury sweatpants
63. both overwhelmed and obsessed with the future
64. the weekend begins on Thursday
65. ladies: floppy bun on the side of the head, Nike Tempos, random t-shirt
66. gentlemen: khakis and a fleece (who knows what’s under the fleece)
67. “celebrations” take place in a room that reminds me of a box
68. one losing his dignity for his 1200th free t-shirt
69. being invincible
70. hipster grad students
71. bar politics
72. liberal kids who come from conservative families
73. being wooed by marketing companies with gratis merchandise
74. hippies (can come from any part of the collegiate community: undergrads, grad students, professors, other faculty, staff, ect)
75. roadtrips that begin after midnight
76. drunk grocery shopping
77. all the restaurants were meant for stoners
78. not paying attention
79. parking illegally every time
80. the streets are most alive between 2 AM and 4 AM
81. None of the restaurants close before 3 AM
82. the inner country in an urban student
83. white people dancing
84. owning a pet hamster, who is given a ridiculous name, and dies a month later due to college living
85. beer fridge
86. sleeping on a mattress without sheets
87. alumni gone mad (can be divided up into several numbers)
88. sleeping in a tuxedo
89. pseudo dating
90. taking medicine with alcohol
91. “Wikipedia is second only to the Bible”
92. too many Facebook events
93. really bad ideas
94. Franzia
95. blaming all academic problems on the invention of the World Wide Web
98. cell phone with a cracked screen
99. always being tired, but never going to sleep
100. thinking about choosing between friends, school, and health
101. losing all pairs of socks and replacing them with socks sold in the bookstore

I realize that I did not fit all college definers in this list of 101. Tell me what the most important things I missed were by commenting.

Michael Elwes Graney

Natural Disasters

Virtually everywhere is susceptible to natural disasters. Whether they are tornados, mudslides, hurricanes, floods, whatever! Doesn't matter, occasionally there is a threat of a disaster. What brought me to write this today? I was sitting in my room wondering what to write while my TV is blaring alerts from the weather channel and wind and rain is pounding my window. A terrible storm is going on right now in the South. I am talking thunderstorm, tornado, wind advisories are going on right now in the mid delta. Being forced to watch The Bold and the Beautiful so that I can listen for any more alerts. And I love natural disasters. They are like God's way of making you thankful for tomorrow's beautiful day and laughing at you while you are sitting scared in your bathtub. 

Now on to what I really want to talk about. As much as I love natural disasters and get excited for a tornado warning, I am terrified of floods. The Mississippi Delta is "the distinct northwest section of the state of Mississippi that lies between the Mississippi and Yazoo rivers. Technically not a delta but part of an alluvial plain, created by regular flooding over thousands of years, this region is remarkably flat and contains some of the most fertile soil in the world... Author David L. Cohn famously located the Mississippi Delta: it begins in the lobby of the Peabody Hotel in Memphis and ends on Catfish Row in Vicksburg... The river delta at the mouth of the Mississippi lies some 300 miles south of this area, and is referred to as the Mississippi River Delta. The two should not be confused, as may happen in some media references or casual conversation. " [wikipedia] Now the river has a levee system that has been pretty effective. Of course, when we talk about "the flood" we all know we are talking about the flood of 1927 where a part of the levee broke. Every spring comes the threat of a flood again. 

My friend Virginia and I always talk about our fear of a flood. Not many others understand this fear. For us, a flood means ruined crops which is at least a year without income! (OH the joys of being a farmer's daughter!) Not to mention many other more disastrous consequences of a flood. A few years ago, the river stage was extremely high. The threat of a flood was high and they closed many low lying roads and areas. Although I was not living here at the time, I remember it being the only thing people here would talk about. Virginia told me that  her dad gave her a $100 bill and told her to keep in on her, whether shoe or bra, at all times and to keep her phone on. If it was starting to flood he would call her and she was to just get in her car and drive to the hills. The nearest true hill is on the other side of Greenwood a little over an hour away to about the center of the state. That is how flat the delta is. Only hill is the man made levee. Virginia and I laugh whenever we get to the hills near Greenwood knowing it as a safe haven in case of a flood. 

As this storm is rolling on, be glad you aren't living in the alluvial plain and smile when you see the sun.

Molly Weissinger

Another Turtle Related Post

This turtle related post is rather different from "Turtled".  If you didn't know me growing up, you did't know Speedy. Speedy was my pet turtle. He was a red eared slider... or she was... well he was always a he to me regardless of whether it is true. I got him just after finishing the 3rd grade and he was a little bigger than a quarter. He was a weird turtle. He tried to bite you through the glass of his aquarium. Brilliant. He also tried to stand on his brick and open the aquarium tank and just end up falling backwards into the water. Hilarious to watch. 

My mom thought he was lonely, hence him trying to open the aquarium to escape, so she bought a newt to be his companion. She named the newt Gingrich. I didn't see the humor of its name at the time. But, Speedy tried to eat poor Gingrich so we let it go in our pond. 

Oh how I loved Speedy. Now, this is where the story starts to get a little sad. I was determined to think he liked living in a dirty smelly aquarium in attempts to not clean it. So, summer after senior year (2009) I knew I needed to clean his tank. I took the tank outside, put speedy in a shallow bucket like thing and put the aquarium top over it. I got a little distracted. Speedy was gone. Gone. Ran away. OK! I am aware that like a hawk or something could have got him or something but I don't even want to think about that. I looked all over the backyard yelling for Speedy as if he was a dog and would come running back to me. He never did. I cried for days. I had Speedy for 9 years! Boy did he grow in that time. I loved that rascal.

Now whenever I see a red eared slider I think it is Speedy. I want to think that he ran away and is still alive and somewhere happy. Just let me think it! 

I wear a Mignon Faget turtle necklace, from Andrew, in honor of Speedy. And have a Pandora charm of a turtle in honor of him. No turtle could ever take his place. 

 This is my friend Alden Burdine with a red eared slider. I can't find a picture of Speedy anywhere but maybe this is him... looks kinda like him. About his size when he "ran away". I realize Speedy could not be in Florida but again, just let me imagine it.

Molly Weissinger

Sunday, April 3, 2011

Hot For Teacher

We have all had that teacher that we had a crush on. I still remember mine. Just to say, I didn't pay very close attention to what was being taught in my 6th grade math class. 

Anyways, I am in school now to be an elementary school teacher. Therefore, I am observing in schools. I chose to observe my old school, Washington School, where my mom teaches now (ironically 6th and 7th grade math). I am observing Mrs. Bell's 2nd grade classroom. 

There are only 14 students in the classroom and each one has a very unique personality. You can almost pin point all the future highschool stereotypes now. The class clown/jock/trouble-maker has a crush on me. And he is so precious! His name is Jaxson Favre (yes... Brett's nephew) and he is head over heels for me. 

In my observing I follow the class to the different activities and observe what they do in the classroom and their interactions and what not. Well, of course the cute little girls at story time are like, "Miss Weissinga, Miss Why-singa, Sit by me! Can I sit in your lap?!" But Jaxson just is there hovering and doing anything possible to get my attention. Mrs. Bell told me after my first visit, the whole next day he asked when I was coming back and practiced saying my name. 

To be honest, I LOVE IT! I am so flattered! So think back to the teacher(s) you may have had a little crush on and know that you had just as much of an impact in their life and they did yours.

Molly Weissinger
Comment: tell us about your school crushes!

So College

“So college” is my phrase to describe waking up at 3:15 to go to a meeting that starts at 3:30. At the meeting, you wear your designated hangover sandals or slippers, a pair of athletic shorts and some random fleece that was lying on your floor. When you are in the meeting, all you can think about is water and pizza. Even if you realize the bad decisions that brought you to this point in life, you continue to repeat these same poor life choices. Only this time, you wake up in some random location that’s not your bed. You tell yourself that you are going to do homework, but you subconsciously know that you are actually going to order a pizza, drink a smoothie and curl up with a blanket while watching movies on TV until you fall asleep on your couch. I am going to assume I am talking about you so I can feel better about myself. Many habits can make one’s life “so college.” Therefore, in the upcoming week, I am going to post a list of these tendencies. For now, I only wish to tell a “so college” story.

My friend Spatty, who puts the “B” in Bible Belt and writes our rival blog (, sent me an e-mail last night at 4:25 AM. She wrote, “I am going to bed soon. What are you doing?” Last night, I was not “college” enough to be awake, let alone hang out at 4:25 AM. Therefore, I did not read her e-mail until this morning when I woke up at a reasonable college, Sunday hour (between 11:30-12:00). Three hours later, when she woke up, we Skyped. She said, “Man, I’m so tired. Where are you getting hangover food this morning?” I replied, “You should be. You didn’t go to bed until at least 4:30 last night. I don’t know why I’m being labeled the hungover one in this conversation.” She responded, “Yeah, that’s pretty normal. I’ve been on a sleeping pattern where I go to bed at 5:00 and wake up at 1:00. Man, I’m hungry. Should I go to Pita Pit, Pizza Hut, or Goodfellas Subs for breakfast? Why can’t you be here to make these decisions for me?” All I said was, “Wow, Spatty. College has wiped you out this weekend.” Comment if you think you can relate or have questions. I’m off to eat donuts and ice cream at 4:35 PM. 

Spatty during our conversation this "morning"

Michael Elwes Graney

19 Is An Odd Age!

I want to give a shout out to the classiest young lady I know! Today is her 19th birthday... Miss Taylor A. Cottingham! Taylor is the perfect example of a true debutante. 

Taylor was born on this day of 1992. Funny story actually, her parents were married the night before I was born and my mother went into labor during the wedding! Anyway, she is from the lovely town of Greenville, Mississippi! Taylor is currently enrolled at Washington & Lee University. 

Taylor is 2 years younger than I am but she is a year behind me (yeah yeah... I was held back). We have always been close friends. In fact, my mom and her dad grew up together and were close friends, go figure. I love TayTay and all her classy ways. 

So, whether you know Taylor or not, I hope you will still wish her a very happy 19th birthday. Take your last year as a teenager in stride! I love you!

Saturday, April 2, 2011

Justin Bieber

The other day, Molly and I were talking about this singer Justin Bieber. She told me to look up one his music videos on YouTube ( This clip literally drew in 505,496,048 views. If you do not believe me, see the URL. If you do not believe your eyes, we have something in common. His video was certainly not the worst I had ever seen. He was featured with Ludacris, a leader of the “dirty south” and one of Atlanta’s finest. Without going very deep, his music shows influence of Southern Gospel traditions which draw its roots from western Africa and the American South. Still, 505,496,048 is a huge number. He has as many views as if every Mexican in the entire world watched his video about four times.

I ask Molly, “Who are the 505,496,048 people watching this video? I am going to go out on a limb and say not multiple views from the entire world population of Mexicans.” She swiftly replied, “Twelve year old girls who play the video for thirteen hours on repeat every day.”  I said, “Really? Why do they like him so much?” She answered, “They think that he is singing to them specifically.” I respond, “How is that possible? How can a properly raised, southern twelve year old girl who does not live anywhere near Justin Bieber, who has never seen Justin Bieber in person, who does not run in the same social or professional circles as Justin Bieber, whose family has never heard of the Bieber family, get off on the idea that Justin Bieber is serenading her?” Molly quickly answered, “Do not underestimate the mind of a twelve year old girl.”

Taken aback by this information, I immediately picked up the phone to seek insight about these 505,496,048 views from my nineteen year old cousin, Anne McCall Campbell Bibb, whose passion is watching programs on “E!”, “TLC”, “Bravo”, ect. As my first order of business, I asked her, “Do you like, like Justin Bieber?” She responded, “I do not know where that question came from, but yes I do to a certain degree. haha.” My next inquiry was, “When he sings, is he singing to you?” She answered, “No, crazy, he’s singing to another fifteen year old girl. You might recognize her as not being me from the music video.” Her point sent me back to my initial quandary. Then I seemed to recall one of my even younger female cousins poking fun at him. She said, “He is not even going to be famous in a couple years when his voice cracks.” I felt sympathy towards him since he does sing in tune and is certainly a wise businessman, but when I found out his net worth my sentiments suddenly vanished considering he will not need to be famous anymore.

Clearly, the data I collected proves mixed results, not answering my question. However, none of my subjects were twelve year old girls. Therefore, I am posting a poll to this blog asking some of our younger, female (or gay male) teenage readers to answer the question and help dwindle my curiosity. Also feel free to answer if you believe that you understand the psyche of a twelve year old girl better than I do.

**One last note, while we are on the topic of YouTube sensations. I do not need to ask where Rebecca Black’s 77,943,091 views for her video “Friday” come from because I am a significant contributor to that number. 

Michael Elwes Graney

Dolly, Dolly, Molly

I wish this was more of a secret about me, but it really isn't. I don’t really like country music but when it comes to Dolly Parton, it is a totally different story. Yes, you read that right. I love Dolly Parton. She is fabulous. No, no, FABULOUS! If you see me someday and I have big bleach blond hair, blue eyeshadow, huge fake boobs, and tacky long finger nails, don't be alarmed. It will just be my "Dolly Phase". 

I have to break it down to explain why I love Dolly Parton. 
The first reason is Dollywood- A FUCKING AMUSEMENT PARK ALL ABOUT HER! No explanation to that. She has her own amusement park open to the public. Maybe someday I will open up Mollywood in Greenville! Amazing, right? Second, Jolene, Islands In the Stream, and I Will Always Love You. Amazing songs. Don't know them? Look them up. Third, Nine to Five-  Jane Fonda, Lily Tomlin, Dolly Parton. Awesome movie. Forth, Steel Magnolias! A classic. You can't be a woman from the South and never see Steel Magnolias. My wedding is going to be just like Julia Robert's character Shelby's wedding with the two perfect shades of "blush" and "bashful" (AKA pink and pink). Fifth, the simple fact that she wrote the beat to 9 to 5 by rubbing her finger nails together.  Lastly, her quote, "If it bags, sags, or drags, you need to have it nip, tuck, or suck it."  Amen, sister. Words of wisdom.

I like her story. Growing up "dirt poor" and making a name for herself. She takes pride in everything she does. Please, I urge you to go look up more about her. She is a fabulous lady. Judge me, I don't care. I love Dolly Parton. 

Now, who wants to meet me at Dollywood? See you in Pigeon Forge! 

Molly Weissinger

Friday, April 1, 2011

Douchey Tendencies

I regularly find myself carrying out two tasks that make me feel like a douche bag. The first task is ordering drinks at Starbucks, and the second one is rambling to a professor while referencing articles and books that I did not even try to read. Today, I found myself performing both of these tasks within ten minutes of each other. My first douche bag move of the day occurred at the Starbucks on the South Lawn by my professor’s office. I always feel so out of place whenever I go there. Everyone working there always looks so hip with their glasses and their haircuts. I am always worried that my drink order will never be “intelligent” enough for them unless it contains at least six words.  Typically, I either end up putting together several trendy sounding words, like “mocha choca lata yaya six pump decaf triple caramel blended together in a stirrer sweat tea with rosemary chutney on the side,” hopeful that the Starbucks barista recognizes my order, or I mumble for about thirty seconds then say sweat tea, trying to make them look like the idiots who don’t know anything about the Starbucks menu instead of me. Even if Starbucks and I do not mix, I will continue to go there for the convenience even if the manager giggles hysterically whenever I walk through the door. Today, I ordered a “fancy word for medium something something cherry raspberry something purple sweetened passion something lemonade.” The guy at the counter laughed for about thirty seconds, then gave me his “I’m a fancy Starbucks barista, and you’re just a boring college student” look, and said, “I think you mean a tall blahblahblahdeedededeeedoo.” I replied, “Oh yeah! I keep forgetting that’s what you call it in America. Sorry to confuse you.” I take my “tall blahblahblahdeedededeeedoo” and head to my professor’s office.

By going to his office, I hope that he will recognize my name as someone who made the extra effort to talk to him outside of class, and he will take my “outside work” into consideration when grading my work in the near future. I walk in with my beverage, and ask if we can discuss the upcoming assignment especially in regards to the [insert three words that sound familiar] areas of study. Then I say, “I really thought the article that talked about X was quite interesting.” He replies, “Oh yeah, the Smith article. Very interesting.” I respond, “The article definitely brought up some good points that made me think, well X was really both a triumph and a setback for society.” My professor then says, “Yes, yes. Did you notice the comparisons with Y in this point in time’s history?” Excited, I reply, “I’m glad you made that comparison because I was thinking the same thing, but I was afraid I was the only person who felt that way and I didn’t want to sound like an idiot.” He assures me, “no, no, you made a very astute observation.” We continue on this conversation for about thirty more minutes. About fifteen minutes in, I become worried that I am running out of “material”, but by this point the conversation is flowing and I keep bringing up articles that I did not read. Finally, he says, “Great discussion today, I am sure you will do well.” So I leave, rolling out like a douche bag.

Michael Elwes Graney

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