Mollie-ritas, on the rocks

It was a different kind of Pennsic for me this year, as my two favorite Pennsic activities, boozing and unseemly cavorting, were off the to-do list. Although cavorting can be achieved without booze present, it would have been tough to swing this time around. Outside of my immediate circles, most folks (read: objects of my fantasy porn daydreams) saw the baby belly and either ran the other way, or got all mushy-eyed and began issuing some sort of birth story/parental advice/protective-helpful assistance. This was funny enough, but only for so long, and I needed to find myself other sources of entertainment.

Like Mollie. Mollie is Cheryl's latest and greatest Pennsic virgin. Mollie is 20 and about to leave home for college for the first time, and is one of those people who always seems to be "on." Some of my favorite Mollie-isms:

Me: My, but you are perky.
Mollie: Oh. That. Well, I was home schooled.
(as if this explains it all. Which, actually, it kind of does.)
Me: I'm allergic to perky.
Mollie: It's not my fault I'm a 36B.

She is also the type of person who projects little-girl innocence and naivete, which is then all shattered by conversations like this:

Cheryl: Well, there is love, and then there is fucking around. They don't really have to coincide.
Mollie: (to me) Do you believe that?
Me: Yeah, more or less.
Mollie: .... Wow. I really have to decide what I believe quick, before I just show up at college and go, "Put me on the pill and somebody fuck me!! fuck me!!!"

Thank you, Mollie, for being my alcohol substitute. You are sweet like peach scnapps; tart like appletinis; refreshing like Arbor Mist.

(*refrains from buttery-nipple comment*)