Molly? …Molly? Where could she possibly be right now?
You’ve just woken up on the Saturday morning of Lehigh-Lafayette and you want
to listen to Techno music so loud that it feels like a grease-ball guido from
Philly is punching you in the chest. But first, you need to find your best
friend, Molly. She was with you the night before. You guys were dancing in the
basement of some disgustingly fratty off campus house to the tune of Katy
Perry, or some other fucking pop star who’s only popular because House Music
decided her voice would sound good with some bass. It’s all coming back to you
now. You then travelled to your favorite local bar, Club L, where Molly was
getting passed around like a freshmen girl trying to get brotherized (see “One
Big Happy Family” article). You fiending some time with your bottom bitch,
Molly, stole her away and wandered off to the dark depths of the establishment
to get some alone time. From there, your night was a complete blackout. You’re
main goal now is to retrace your steps because who are you kidding? When you’re
with Molly, it feels like you’re a 5-year old who just won a billion dollars
and bought a unicorn to ride a magic rainbow to go party with the old Charlie
Sheen. It feels pretty much like the exact opposite of getting raped by
Sandusky. But let’s face it, Molly
is hard to find sometimes, she’s hot ““ she’s cold, and some times you just have
to settle for another kind of white girl. One who might not be as fun, or as
exciting, or even do anything for you at all anymore, but at least she’s a much
cheaper date.
As
you approach Club L, you see something off in the distance on the ground. As
you walk closer, you realize you are the luckiest fucking person on the planet
since Rosie O’Donnell (they’re giving her another show, like Ellen
Degeneris hasn’t already capitalized on that fucking market); you’ve just found
your long lost friend, Molly, just lying in the middle of the fucking street,
not harmed, and not a scratch on her. By the grace of God, some crackhead townie
hasn’t found her, who probably would have just used her and not known what the
fuck hit him. Anyway, before you know it, you’re off to morning cocktails now
hanging out again with your best pal, Molly, and feeling as though the
requirements of being a real-person no longer apply to you. You sing, you
dance, you let your eyes go in out of focus to pretend like gigantic objects
fit inside your hand. You roll to the bookstore to check out how many coloring
books you can buy. You roll over to P1 and buy the most ridiculous
hat/sun-glasses combo ever. More ridiculous then the GDI’s that try to blend in
on the one day they wake up in the morning to drink. You are you, purely you,
with your number one friend in the whole world, Molly. Molly Danielle
Maryweather-Angelo, her initials say it all. So remember, if for some reason
you happen to lose her, don’t fret, she’ll be back sometime soon. You might run
into her at a party, or sometimes she’s hanging out just down the block, but
always remember, it’s not a party without her.
