Okay, I Look Like a 12-Year Old Boy, BUT I Can Spot Deer!

Probably the doe I snuck up on today (our dates on this cam are way off)

So last week when I was hunting, I almost peed my pants and was pretty close to the house and like, I'm a girl and if I'm close to a toilet and can avoid freezing my ass off (literally), I'm going to do it, so I moseyed into the house to use the potty. When I looked in the mirror, I was like "Oh God, I'm a 12 year old boy right now, awesome!". Okay, a 22 year old girl looking like a 12 year old boy? That's a get-up a mother can't even love. Anyways, so this morning my dad howls up the stairs to me at 5:30 to get up. Again, it's not light until 7, WHY do I have to be out of bed at 5:30? I was actually dreaming about shooting a deer [that's why they are called "dreams" people, because they are what you want to happen, but ya know really never do actually happen instead they taunt you and make you feel like an idiot when you can shoot a deer fine in your dreams but a duh can't even find one in the woods]. Anyways, slight tangent there, so I make it downstairs to the couch, where I notice it is POURING outside. So I'm a poor college student, anyone think I own expensive waterproof hunting clothes? Nada. I do have wool stuff (real nice once it's wet...not) but seriously, it was pouring. So my dad goes "well, we can wait until it's light out to head out". Ok? As if I could have seen a deer and shot it in the dark anyways, like, that was my plan all along. So we watch the news, which says that the rain is going away in the next half hour and it's going to be "light rain". Okay weatherman, I'm pulling my bullshit card there. We went out at 7AM and it dumped on us until 10AM. So there are obviously some clear advantages with the rain when hunting, like being able to sneak up on deer, and walking quietly through the woods because well, my dad and I are two of a kind aka clumsy as hell. It's funny though, because my dad makes not a lot of noise, but a good stick crunch here and there when he's walking through the woods. I do the same thing. But when I do it, he goes "Moll, shhhhhhh!!!". And I'm all like "Dad, you do the same thing!". Then I go out hunting with Scott. After 5 minutes last week I was like "Scott!!! Shhhh! You walk so LOUD!". Like father like daughter? Yuh. Anyways, so quietness in the rain saves us from sounding like stampeding elephants, and it keeps us from wasting our day "shhhh-ing" eachother instead of paying attention to ya know hunting. Bad aspects: Ya get soaked. My pants were sagging like a southern Florida gangsters, and I could not get them to stay up. I need suspenders or something. My wool jacket weighed 800 pounds as did my backpack full of "dry"[wet, useless] extra clothes. When you eat a sandwich, it gets instantly soggy and you gag on the bread because wet bread is just the most disgusting texture ever. So today my dad decided that he would accompany my hot mess self and we would head south. I am comfortable hunting north from the house. I know the area pretty well and I know where the deer usually are (though that's kind of a stupid statement because I THINK I know where the deer are, but ya know never see any). Being south is like, a bunch of swamps, and all kinds of cool awesome stuff I'm unfamiliar with. Since we had 4 other people in the woods with us who were going south, my dad babysat me so maybe a deer would get pushed to us. So we had been walking for about an hour and 45 minutes (you could not sit for a long time: you would get WAY too cold. Even my dad was cold: when my dad's cold, it's cold) and I swore I saw something white. I was like "You see that dad?" Uh, no. Okay Molly, you're obviously hallucinating because you want to see deer so bad you are seeing things. Okay carry on. We walked for another 10 minutes and my dad stopped. I thought he stopped because he saw the two deer butts and tails skirting up the ridge. I heard "you see those four deer?" come from his mouth. 4, I thought, dangg this is awesome! So I've got an extra quickness into my step at this point. I walk to the point where we saw the deer and find the tracks. "Dad, should we just follow these bounding tracks up the ridge to find those deer?" Huh? He said, "What deer?" Okay, I was confused here. "Um, dad the ones we saw when we stopped. I only saw two but you said you saw four". "I didn't see anything," my dad said, "I said "Do you see the trail here, not do you see those four deer" Well alrightly then. Apparently my 12-year old boy eyes were working correctly and good thing because my dad wouldn't have known there were deer there. So we kept walking for another 45 minutes and stopped again. Almost immediately after we stopped, we heard a deer bark at us. This deer was close. Ohh baby, here we go. My dad cut down the ridge, and I cut high. After walking for two minutes, I spotted a big fat doe, standing right between my dad and I. She was looking right at my dad. I slowly stalked right up behind her. If I had a doe permit, she would have been dead 100 times. So while she's watching my dad, I'm pointing my gun at her, waving, basically doing jumping jacks to say "HEY DAD!!! LOOK A DEER!!!". She eventually realized there was a psychopath behind her moving like some kind of deranged maniac and ran away. Again I met up with my dad, "Hey, Dad!? Did you see that doe!?". Huh? What doe? You saw one? Okay daddy, you need new eyes. I saw three deer today, and dad didn't see anything. We wandered around for the rest of the morning until 1PM, when we were both too soaked to walk anymore. We had walked about 5 miles total in sopping wet heavy clothes. No bucks for anyone today, but, where there are does, there are bound to be bucks, so I'm going to stay optimistic. On another note, 364 days ago today I snapped my ankle hunting on my second day hunting in the season. No ankle break today baby, woo hoo!

No Deer, But a Nice Shin Bruise!

Okay, I slept in the most uncomfortable bed on Monday night. Like, my sisters old futon is the bed from hell. Thing sounds like a squealing pig every time you turn. Dear bed, I'm not that fat so stop making me feel that way. So my dad's always like "You gotta get up super early to go hunting so you'll be ready". So 5:15 comes around, and in my head I'm thinking "it doesn't get light until 6:30.... why the HELL am I awake right now!". Fact: Takes me about 20 minutes to get ready. So after rolling around on squealing hog bed for a while (which, drove me buckwild cuz it was as annoying as all hell) I was ready.... by 6. Like, gear on, pack packed. Pitch black outside, still. If you know me, you know I can't see for crap in the dark. Like, this one time, I walked into a wall because I tripped down a set of stairs (that I couldn't see) and hit my nose and it was swollen for a few days. So Scott and I head out in the dark anyways with a headlamp (A HEADLAMP, as in 1 tiny light for 2 of us). So poor Scott is holding the headlamp and I'm all like "UM, shine that around the woods, and in front of us" and he's like (intelligent) "Um I'm going to shine it on the ground so we can see where we are walking". Hm, to the girl who broke her ankle from tripping on a stick, this should seem logical [noooooooope]. So I snag the light from Scott so I can swing it around in a million circles to see, ya know, if somethings trying to get me (not like I'm carrying a gun or anything: I'm a bit of a wuss). So after sounding like a herd of elephants walking on Christmas ornaments (loud as helll), I get to my tree stand in the swamp and Scott goes away. Molly, by herself, in the woods. Always resulting in some kind of ya know, fiasco. So I'm sitting in my tree stand and it's starting to get bright out and dang, like it's cold as hell. And my feet are cold. But, my backpack is penguin egg tucked between my legs ya know incase I need whats in my backpack (oh, maybe a cushion that I didn't put under my butt? Or a thermal shirt that I didn't put on under my jacket? Or a box of matches? All stuff that I desperately need next to me while crowded on a little seat in the middle of a tree). So my feet are freezing, but I can't move them, but I have to. Soooo, of course, I shift my foot and oh whoopsies there goes my backpack. High class mistake: the arm of the pack gets caught on a tree branch right next to the ground. What a nice little backpack hanger, couldn't have thought of that one before. So an hour passed and nothing was going on, other than my organs freezing off, so I decide to walk around for a bit. Within like, 10 minutes, I get hard core caught in a tree. So my dad likes to "be the deer" so like, I go through the thick stuff (which, in being the deer, I sound like a stampede of buffalo so obviously I suck at it) because he does. And the tree grabs me from the backpack. So I'm trying to get this devil tree off my back while holding my gun because this would naturally be a good time for a deer to come up and lick my face, when I'm tangled up in a gnarly-ass tree. So I'm swinging my arm back, grunting like a baboon, looking like a mess. Finally the tree let me go. So then after walking a while, I decide to sit in another ladder stand because apparently I enjoy losing feeling in all my limbs. About an hour passed there, so I decide ya know organs shutting down again, I should walk. I walk down to this swamp and friggin ruffed grouse blasted out of the trees, scaring the shit out of me. If you've ever flushed a grouse, you know EXACTLY what I'm talking about. I could have shot them too (well, probably not but I could have tried at least). So I poked and sat for the rest of the day, but the classiest move I had came towards the end of the day. I'm contemplating how to cross this brook like, its 2 feet wide and I just can't figure it out (how about hopping over it, dumbass). So I lead on this nice [VERY dead] tree like the "cool guy" lean with one elbow against the tree. Whelp, apparently the bed wasn't squealing for no reason, porky, cuz that tree went right on over, as did I. Slammed my shin on a rock. Cute, since ya know I'm going to a wedding this weekend and that big blue egg is gunna look HOT with my blue dress. So in conclusion, no one got any deer yesterday (including Scott, which ya know is good so I didn't have to throw a full out tantrum like a 3 year old, like, not that I'd do that or anything...). Hopefully better luck will come in the next few weeks. But, on the bright side people, my ankle didn't break, so at least I didn't hit rock bottom again.

Me and my baby (The rifle that is. Would this girl ever call a guy "baby". Oh hell no.) and Scott.

Successful Opening Day for the Crew (no, not me)

Ronnie's 11-pointer (166 pounds!)

Dad's 4-pointer (doe?)

 

Ronnie and his monster! Hopefully there are a few more up there waiting for me!

Today around 11:30AM, while I'm listening to a lecture about air stones, I see my dad calling my phone. I was dying to answer, but uh I'm a good student and I'm not going to just bust out of class. So at 11:50, I called my dad. He had shot a "doe" aka 4-pointer, and his buddy Ronnie shot a nice 11-pointer behind our house. Scott and I were pinning the gas all the way to Western Mass because the deer were clearly moving! On the drive I gave him a nice lecture: "Scott, if you shoot a deer on my property before me, I'm going to punch you in the face, scream, cry, yell, possibly throw up, and not talk to you for at least 3 days. BUT if you see a deer, obviously I want you to shoot it!" (Yeah, after that lecture I'm sure he definitely wanted to shoot one). Okay, so as woodsy as I am, I am still a woman! So we got to the house to hear my dads story. He went to Richmond, MA, where our Zone 3 (well, his, mine is a big fat LOSS in the lottery) tags. Around 9:30, dad looks up, and there came a doe. Shot 1, stood there, shot 2, bounding, shot 3, leg but still bounding, shot 4, slugs in the thick stuff aka nothing, shot 5, deer finally drops. He waited about 5 minutes, walked up to it, and the, at this point, "duck/boe", jumped up and started running again. He tracked it for about 2 hours to find that his "doe" was actually a 4-point buck (100 pounds). This is the second time this has happened. 2 years ago, my dad shot a "doe" and it was a spikehorn. Obviously, when your getting older and your eyesight blows, you can't see any antlers (yes, my dad has buck tags too so it's actually legal to be blindish). Scott and I decided that if my dad ever actually sees the antlers, it's going to be a hella big deer. So speaking of hella big deer, Ronnie killed a MONSTER buck today behind the house up on the mountain. He brought a rag full of doe scent with him, sat down, the wind swirled, and the buck came charging and grunting right into him, it was only a 15 yard shot. How about um, luck! So after seeing these deer in the yard, I grabbed the scent gland of Ronnie's big buck and rubbed it all over myself (okay, my gloves. Seriously, wiped my face and nose with buck pheramones, WOOF). So I go howlin into the woods to my deer stand. Oh, and I've been told that my cookies are good luck from Scott for about a month. Apparently, whenever Scott eats cookies I bake him in the woods he shoots a deer. Then, my dad ate a cookie before he shot his duck/boe. So it was confirmed that they are lucky. SO piggy here shoveled four cookies down the gullet but noneya, apparently men eat cookies and shoot deer, whereas women eat cookies and get fat. I guess I'll be visiting my treadmill later instead of gutting a deer. Anyways, I am going out all day tomorrow and since I basically smell like a buck in heat, hopefully I'll get something. BUT it was a really good day for the crew!

What Would I Do if My Life Was Normal?

If my life was normal, I'm sure I'd be bored. Or at least not half as interesting. Good thing I'm a junkie for doing stuff that encourages academic advancement and guarantees being a total and absolute disaster 24/7. In the past 2 days I have:

1) Almost fallen off a ladder while trying to vacuum shit from the bottom of a tuna tank. In the process I almost knocked over an ENTIRE set of lights (like those big long ones in schools? Yuh).

2) Engaged in an intelligent discussion in my class about solids on the seafloor from salmon net pen cages only to say "The accumulation of salads on the seafloor". Note to self: shut that hole in your face until you have snacks.

3) Dysfunctionality spreading to others: Today my group had to weigh our mini pigs aka rainbow trout that we are supposed to love and care for and feed. Fact: there is a magical fairy in the tank room because we NEVER get the same amount of fish every weigh up. Granted, our crowder blows but um I stood there holding it for a while and didn't see any fish escape. So when we finish our fish counting (One fish had an eye fungus- like, it looked like there was a ball of white puss inside his eyeball and it looked uncomfortable and Iwanted to just pop it for him [I'm aware that you are currently vomiting] but like, um no one wants to get their eyeball popped). Anyways, little porkys are getting nice and plump. So we thought we had 116 fish originally so we were feeding them for that amount- turns out we have somewhere between 130-150 (who the heck knows? Notamee!). Result: little starving fish that looks like disgusting eels. One of them looked so gross we put the poor little sucker out of his misery because he just needed to die. It was on Halloween that we killed him, I told my group I should bring him home and throw him in a Trick-or-Treaters Halloween basket and they all looked at me like I was um, nutsooooo. Here's the deal: kids on my street are little devils. They throw rocks at eachother, scuff up my lawn, and obnoxiously sing "Apple Bottom Jeans" Flo Rida song while jumping on the trampoline and yelling for hours. They told my sister "She better watch out because they are in the Crypts and the Bloods" Sorry Bro Montana, you'd be dead. Call me Scruge, but they deserve a rotten fish in their basket. The dog pooped in the yard the other day and then the gang of punks went walkin right through it- Kelly and I laughed hysterically (okay, I've stepped BAREFOOT in enough dog poop to laugh when it happens to others). Anyways, so that fish needed to be dead. Since we noticed they looked like worms and we all know how I feel about worms (NOT GOOD), we decided to feed them um twice that amount. Now they are fat little footballs and I'm so happy but yeah, seriously dysfunctional fish counts. So then when we finish, I go to pull out the crowder and it literally dumps water ALL over me. Okay, cool got a test after this in my other class (which took me 2 hours) now I'm not only miserable but damp and cold. I legit looked like I peed myself, but it's okay because if there is anything I learned from Billy Madison (other than the awesome song the sing in the end.... "My Billy, sweet Billy Boy... I knew you would go backkk") is that peeing your pants is cool, everyone does it. If anyone asked me, I was going to, in a straight face, say "Oh, damn, forgot to wear the Huggies today. I hate when this happens" and sit down. But, didn't get the opportunity. Anyways, that's about it for my nutty life. Side note: my Christmas pandora station keeps playing the damn Chipmunks I CANNOT STAND the stupid annoying chipmunks and their squeaky voices it makes me want to smash my computer into 2000 pieces. Okay, dunya.

Totally random picture (I don't take pictures when I'm vacuuming, talking about salad accumulation, or spilling water all over myself. BUT in my free time (ha, like that exists) a few weeks ago I painted all of these for Scott for his birthday and since my patience level is about that of a 9 month pregnant lady in mid-July, I'm pretty proud of myself.

Commenting Problem Solved!

Hey everyone! So I've been told by a few people that they comment and it doesn't show up on here, and I FINALLY figured out how to fix it! So sorry for the inconvenience, comment away :)

Forgot about these

And here are some more cute bear pictures Scott sent me because obviously, it's like my life looking at the little fuzzy buggers.

So if this lady doesn't call me about a puppy, I'll take any one of these cubbies. We can eat snacks and watch movies and cuddle. You like salmon? Oh, well it so happens I have some! Little fuzzies... sooo cute.

So the only downside to having Scott steal one of these dolls for me is um, Mom's claws. She doesn't look too happy that he's taking pictures of her little family.... or maybe she's just disturbed that little baby is sniffing her butt? Either/or.

Someone (caugh, me) Has Deer Fever

The other day, I sat at my desk and did homework for 3 hours.... in my camo hunting pants and sweatshirt. I'd say I might have a bit of a fever... I've heard the word "hunting" too many times lately to not be dying right now. Massachusetts deer season (for people like me who are not talented bow hunters) begins two weeks from today. Um, two weeks too long! So in the fish and wildlife building at URI, I've heard "deer hunting" and "tree stand" and "shotgun" like almost everyday. Getting a RI hunting license is so tempting because like, I see deer all the time, and um I could be hunting before and after school. Issue: I hate ticks. There are ticks everywhere in little Rhody and let me tell you I get the heebie-geebies wayy too much to deer hunt in RI. My sister and Dukey visited me today for 2 hours. We took a 15 minute walk with the dog, and he had one on his nose (which I quietly removed because my sister loses her mind when it comes to ticks. Ticks are to Kelly as worms are to Molly... nothing good happens in the presence of either, only tears, heart attacks, and vomit). Western Mass has a few ticks here and there, maybe you'll get one on you. RI is like, maybe you'll get only 20 on you, if you're lucky. Woof, no thanks. Scott has already shot 3 deer (in Alaska, there are a billion deer and everyone gets 3 tags). His first deer was a dork deer like seriously, thing needed a bullet in the head. He had 2 points on one side, and then a big ugly drop tine on the other side. I'm sorry, but it gave the phrase "dickhead" a visual like seriously, this deer was a dork. Then he shot a nice 8 pointer that did not look like such an idiot. And yesterday he shot a 7 pointer. Scott asked his friend to take a picture of the deer to show me. Visual: Scott standing with a deer head looking like it just went through the French Revolution and got slapped into the guillotine, with a mangled up carcass next to him and a bloody backpack full of meat. Cute, like, the head is nice and all but ya know maybe before chopping the deer to pieces would have been a better time to take a photo? That's just my humble opinion. So what do I do for two weeks other than drown in a paper about ocean acidification, work, study, and go to class? Thoughts include: Run 5K's (did one yesterday, and am doing one next weekend: Gear and Beer= finish, eat bbq and drink beer. I'll run 3.1 miles for that!), listen obsessively to Christmas music (as if that's beyond my normal activity), try to plot out a way to bake holiday treats without eating them (already failing that one) and get a puppy (seriously lady, email me back already).

To distract myself from dying to hunt (not like I'm wearing camo or anything) I run with my family in road races. Miss Maizy in the middle with her horsie Star came in first place. Me and Kel on the other hand, not so much.

How Do You Say "Tecumseh"?

 So since my head has been shoved in a book for the past month and I've been so stressed that I have a stress-induced eye twitch in my left eye (I'm so attractive) and I broke out in hives last week from stress yet again, I figured hey why not climb a mountain to make myself feel better. At least get some fresh air! So my cousin Sam is a total badass. She is doing the New Hampshire 48 mountains over 4000 ft challenge- she is on 23 (well, 24 now that we did Tecumseh). I have done 4 (5 now after Tecumseh). See where this girl would have problems? The last mountain I did was in July before Alaska and school and everything else! [Shreddin] Sam has been doing them continuously. So anyways, I'm not going to complain too much to start this off! We woke up at 4am (WOOF) to head up to Waterville Valley New Hampshire to get to the trail for Tecumseh. We stopped at Dunks so I could like, get coffee and not fall asleep. 20 minutes later, my mouth is wide open in the passenger seat and I'm drooling all over myself (so when I'm not breaking out in hives, and my eye isn't twitching, I seem to be drooling). I swear you could feed me when I'm asleep in a car. So when I sleep normally (this is all by assumption, I actually have no idea if this is real life) my mouth is closed. BUT when I'm uncomfortable, like in a car, I look like I'm yelling and drooling. Throw me a few snacks and I'll never know. Good way to get Molly fat: feed her some cookies and snacks while she's sleeping/drooling all over your passenger window. Anyways, I woke up (sorry Sam!) and we started off hiking. It was COLD outside like, freezing. So, I layered up: base layer, long sleeve, sweatshirt 1, sweatshirt 2, wool jacket/shirt. 30 seconds after walking: I was sweating PROFUSELY. Goodbye both sweatshirts! So Tecumseh is a cool mountain for two reasons: one, it's right next to Waterville Valley ski area, where I ski, and you can see the ski slopes the whole time and two, it's only 4003 feet and 2.5 miles to the summit! So we were truckin it up the mountain, like, hard core. And it was basically all uphill after the first half mile (wow Moll, never would have guessed that climbing up a mountain would be all uphill: Out of shape, uh huh!). We had been hiking for a while and I was finally like damn, I need to stop and breathe and blow my nose and eat a snack and live for 50 seconds here. The problem with hiking in the cold is your nose runs. So my nose is running. I grab a Dunks napkin (I know, I'm so smart for grabbing some!) while climbing uphill and blow my nose. Note to all um, you can't breathe and blow your nose at the same time. So you just let it flow, or you stop to blow. Anyways, total diversion with that. So we got to the top in an hour and forty minutes (twenty minutes before her book said we should have- champs). There were bobcat and coyote tracks everywhere. I told Sam that there were bobcat tracks. She thought they were vicious, so I told her all about bobcats. We decided I was basically the "Ghetto Hunter" hiking and Sam was the EMS posterchild. I know about all kinds of woodsy stuff, and she's a champ hiker. Like "Dual Survival" (plus look at my clothes in the pictures- oversized hunting garb). Anyways, it was chilly and windy at the top. The views were absolutely gorgeous and there was an inch of snow. Just stunning. The whole 2.5 miles uphill of death were all worth it for the 10 minutes we spent on top (happens that when I died and needed a break, we were literally 15 minutes from the summit: of course). The great thing about heading downhill: you can talk. The whole way up is basically silence, gasping, or trying to talk, but instead awkwardly breathing heavily behind the person you are hiking with. So we chatted it up the whole way down the mountain (which only took an hour!) so we finished the 5 miles on Tecumseh in record time. I'd say we are pretty badass McCarthy women. We packed the car back up around noon (after laying on the rocks and dirt in the parking lot and trying to stretch our butts... um, ouch) and headed back home, and naturally 20 minutes later, droolfest began again. I'm a tired woman, okay? Last touch to the day. We got to Sam's house, and I had to drive home from there. I'm tired and out of it, so I'm trying to avoid this big tree in their yard. I'm trying so hard to avoid the tree that I cut across like their whole yard and heard "BANG....waaaaaaaahhhhhh" I was like what the hell is that? Totally knocked their mailbox over. Congratulations, self, you are a constant disaster.

Top of the mountain- taking some pictures, and repping the hunting gear!

View from the top! Makes the entire hike worth it!

These were very easy to walk down! But definitely not up!

Thanks A Lot, Sandy.

Before I show a bunch of depressing pictures of the damage to Narragansett Beach from hurricane Sandy (okay, I guess she had to show me who was boss after I mocked her for days before saying "I can't take a hurricane seriously when all I can hear is John Travolta wailing Saaannddyyy while pots and pans dance around on a movie screen" like sorry can't do it) I thought I'd start with a picture of my lover, the best dog ever, Dukey. His real name is Duke, he is my sister's baby BUT we call him Dukey. He loves getting belly rubs in the grass. Okay, after this, get depressed, or awe'd. Thanks a lot, Sandra-Dee.

Happy Pups

Coast Guard House didn't do too well

What was once a nice sidewalk,

Benches? Not one was intact.

The parking lot didn't fare too well.

Yikes

The road was closed because all this sand was blown onto it! Now it is piled up in the parking lot!

My mom looks so dang cute next to the sand piles, plus this gives you an idea of how tall they are! That's a lot of sand!

Walkway?

Erosion!

More beach erosion

Gate D fence! Gone obviously.

Amazing how the waves can knock this fence over!

Tire on the beach. Check out the sand!

The only bad thing about beach front property..

Serious erosion!

This just plain sucks.

The calm after the storm.

Scott and I sat on these stairs in August (stairs=chunk of wood)

Yup no more stairs.

So unfortunate!

Amazing that the waves were so high only 48 hours ago.. now so calm.

More road devastation

Still so much sand no one could drive on 1A near the beach

What a gorgeous sunset.

Seattle... Second Best Place Ever

I love Friday Harbor!

Awesome porpoise right next to the boat!

So since today I dumpster dove to remove a dead tuna (so it wouldn't stink up the dumpster) and the dumpster was full of corroded butterfish/squid slop and stunk like rottenness and death and I can still smell it in my nose and haven't eaten anything since because well who wants to eat when all they can smell is a rotten dumpster full of tuna (long sentence, sorry), I decided to blog about going to Seattle since I didn't get the chance. So first off, let me say I've met two awesome people online in odd ways. Not like through Match.com or any business like that, but from me being crazy. Example 1: One of my best friends (I swear we are brother and sister and were separated at birth) Jason and I were in a sandwich shop at 7am before heading out fishing. It was the morning after a hard Patriots loss (always gets me fired up) and I am going off about all the refs and different plays with the deli man and Jason is chiming in and finally the guy goes, "Damn Jason, where'd you find this gal". We both looked at eachother, laughed, and said "Craigslist". The deli man's face looked like he just got slapped in the face with a bucket of dead squid (ha, probably similar to my dumpster face). Anyways, Jason was my landlord/roommate this summer so that's the first awesome person I met (psh, and everyone thought I'd get raped for finding a Craigslist roommate..). The second one, who you all know by now, Scott (who I'm now dating) I met because I was a crazy person and needed to go to Alaska so I was like oh hey I don't know you but I'm going to come and live with you for 2 weeks and go fishing and eat sweet ocean snacks and look at bears. Funny how love works out, huh? Anyways, now I can tell people, "In the first five minutes I met my boyfriend in real life, he threw me in front of a 600 pound grizzly bear" That's fact, people. Anyways, since I've been dying to go to Seattle forever (besides, University of Washington SAFS is my TOP (and only at the moment) choice for grad school- obviously I had to go visit and make my point that like, I'm smart and fun and a good student and not a prestigious a-wad but can still be smart and intelligent and a good presenter- well, I don't know if I made those many points, but I hope so). But anyways, we went to Seattle. I loved UW, I loved Seattle, but really the fun day that like, everyone wants to actually hear about was adventuring. So Scott told me he had a surprise for me, but wouldn't tell me what. We just drove North and my hints were "Tulips" and "Shoot something". What kind of BS tip is Tulip? Oh, thanks glad we are going to pick tulips and frolic in the poppies like idiots, could have just watched with Wizard of Oz for that. And shoot something? Well we didn't have guns. I told him if he was dragging me north to play paintball, I was going to kill us both. So we pull into Skagit (never go here, ever) aka the international porta-potty supply city. Seriously, it's a city full of portable potties. I was pissed. So we get out of the worst place ever (thank goodness) and since, well, I'm mad and yelling and won't stop talking, even though I told Scott he was getting the silent treatment- we all know how good I am at that deal- he tells me we are going to Friday Harbor for a killer whale watch. Plot synopsis: Picture Molly, age 5, with her etch-e-sketch in her underwear dancing profusely to "Hold Me" by Michael Jackson. 19 years later, I was almost that excited (I txted my mom: "Mom, me and Scott are going to see the killer whales today! Should I dance around in my underwear and sing Hold Me?" she goes (oh my gosh mother)   " I'm sure Scott would enjoy that" almost hurled up my breakfast, thanks for that Nanco). Anyways, we go to Friday Harbor THE BEST PLACE ON EARTH! I love that town I need to move there like, now sorry Little Rhody, Friday Harbor takes the cake, brownies, chocolate, and guacamole (that's big time). So we get on this killer whale watch boat and within 3 seconds they stop and say "oh, look a sea lion" me and Scott are like wot waa borrrrrring. Then OH LOOK! An eagle... booooooring (meanwhile everyone else is like "A bald eagle, oh my door nuts (please tell me someone knows where oh my door nuts comes from)") Anyways, this basically happened to us all day and uh no killer whales. boo. BUT we saw some awesome dalls porpoises that were riding the boat, they were pretty badass. We took 800 pictures of them and had a ball watching them, and the scenery was just incredible (which we also took 200 pictures of). OH so shooting= with the camera (LAME) and tulips (I guess Skagit, pottyland, has a tulip festival every year? I know one thing, that's a festival you can go to and never wait in the line for the can). Scott and I also illegally photographed everything in sight so we could make it ourselves, and molested (well that was me) tribal statues. Oh, and I'm sure we were really classy because my hair was caught in his beard the whole time- we know how to roll high class. Anyways, Seattle and Washington and Friday Harbor were fantastic. Enjoy the pictures!

Haha oh hey totem pole man.

More dall porpoises (seriously, we took 800 pics)

INCREDIBLE scenery- those are mountains!!!!

They like snacks.

Pike Place Market- so much delicious seafood!!!

Haha my favorite picture! Oh ducks, here's a treat... why are you running away? Oh the dog, yeah.

The Bears are getting FAT!!!!!!

I'm so fat I can't reach the fish anymore..

"I don't wanna move...awhh"

Porky, go to hibernate. You really shouldn't eat anymore.

So this is basically just pictures that Scott gave me of the bears in Alaska from a few weeks ago ( seriously, what would I do without him sending me pictures of all the awesome Alaskan creatures?). This is going to be how I look and feel in about 24 days on Thanksgiving- lethargic, fat, and tired.