Monday Bear

So is there or is there not such thing as creepy hot(t)? There’s creepy, there’s hot(t), and according to Liz, there is, indeed, such thing as creepy hot(t).

Here are some examples of creepy:

• They guy at the park with the long hair combover who mumbles “compliments” to you.
• Those 50 year old guys at metal shows.
• Blind dates with a lazy eye.
• Clowns.
• Not showering ever.
• Boys doing exceptionally nice things for you.

Here are some examples of hot(t):

• Kissing all rawr.
• Cool shoes.
• Matthew.
• Good sex.
• Nice fancy dates.
• Boys doing exceptionally nice things for you.

Now, creepy hot is when any item from group A (Things that are creepy) is mixed in with any item from group B.

Examples:

• Long hair combover guy + cool shoes.
• Not showering + Matthew.
• Blind dates with a lazy eye + nice fancy dates.
• Clowns + good sex.

Meh, nevermind…

But about that lazy eye thing. This has never happened to me, but it has happened to an acquaintance of mine. When a friend is hooking another friend up on a blind date, you’d think that if applicable, “lazy eye” would come up in the top ten characteristics of said date. If you have to lie to get a date for your friend, friend A probably shouldn’t be dating in the first place.

Someone tried to hook my mom up with some guy the most wretched southern accent ever. I won’t say his name here, but it rhymed with “Ronnie Funk”. It was the most horrible name ever. Welp, as a favour, (we’re both guilty of pity dating… how do you think someone like Matthew got such a hot momma?) she went out with this guy. He didn’t compliment her, he didn’t open doors for her, he didn’t even buy her drink(!). This large loud black woman kept asking me “Did yo mama ever go out with Ronnie?” every time I saw her, which was quite often. When I could finally say “yes,” I told her everything he did wrong on this date, and you know what she said?

“Oh, he doesn’t know any better.”

…

Excuse me. I know my mom isn’t the greatest, but hell, she deserves a 40 year old man who has been on at least one date in his life.

I don’t like many of the guys my mom dates. They always either

1. Wear tank tops (!) in December.
2. Make fun of my hair.
3. Offer to pierce my nipples.
4. Eat with their fork upside down.
5. Assume that I’m my mother when I answer the phone. That one’s the worst.

I read this medical book by Dr. Bebe Funk. I shit you not. There is a psychiatrist out there named Bebe Funk. I love her.

I’ve been babysitting a lot lately. Here are some things that have gone down.

Micah: *swings an empty swing at the park* I’m playing tic tac toe. Swinging is not tic tac toe.

McKenna, age 3: I’m a big girl. I’m growing. I’m 36.

This happened tonight at my house with Matthew present.
McKenna: Take your shirt off!
Me: No.
McKenna: Why?
Micah: Why?
Matthew: Why?

Once upon a time:

“Ugh, Swiss did that. Granted, he was fifteen.”

Liz: I was fourteen.
AJ: Whore.
Liz: Hey, I was almost fifteen!

My last blog was about to be named Every night is Vag Night. But I chose to do the other one. Like you know, how some restaurants are like, Every night is kids’ night, or some bars are like, Every night is ladies’ night.

Or how if I accidentally kill Matthew and have to marry Jared, and we have kids.
Monday night: Spaghetti night.
Tuesday night: Cheeseburger night.
Wednesday night: SPAM NIGHT! w00t.

Not to be pretentious or anything (Liz, pretentious? Psht. That’s all I’ve got to say about that. Psht.) but I’ve been reading a lot of blogs lately– a lot of them– and well, hardly any of them are… good.

Things I don’t care to read about:

• Your finals.
• How much you hate your parents.
• Sailor Moon.
• Eight- 15- line- long paragraphs about your new job and how this is going to jumpstart your career.
• Your boyfriend.
• Your copy/ pastage of Papa Roach songs from lyrics.com.

Things that I (and everyone else) care to read about:

• Secks.
• Pooping.
• Lists of silly things.
• Funny occurances (well- written).
• How huge my ass is.
• My boyfriend. s.
• Blue Willow China.

This said, don’t copy lyrics from an “obscure” band and post them saying that you wrote this and this is how you feel about X. If it’s on the interweb, someone who knows said band and song will see it and make you look like an asshole.

Also, don’t write one song and use it toward every situation, saying that you wrote it about Y situation, but you really wrote it when you were 14, and it’s really about that girl who you were too afraid to even look at because you might get a public boner.

Chicken Pox Romance, anyone?

It also helps to write short snippy paragraphs. They keep readers’ attention better.

It also helps not to suck at blogging.

I’m at Matt’s house at the moment (This blog was written over a long period of time) and we just got back from swimming at Uncle Bob’s. Sounds like a perv, am I right? Welp, I wore a little cotton dress [the one that Matt won't let me wear in public (And for good reason... I mean, Aye, Chihuahua!)] And long story short, Uncle Bob isn’t a perv. In fact, he’s really really nice. He gave us wine.

Damn. Holy damn. I was just writing about how the blog elves took the rest of this blog, and then they went and took the part about how they took the rest of the blog. WTF, mate? It was a really good rest of the blog, too. Damn. All because of Matt’s crazy computer. I would ask him how to get it back, but he’s doing that, “I’m going to sleep all day, and don’t touch me or I’ll bite your ass off and spit it in your face” thing.

Preow.

So cucumbers, AKAs, Zephyr.

Zephyr is not pledging for AKA. She better not pledge for anything. I won’t let her. I’ll take her towels back.

It’s okay if she’s trying out for the band. I think that would be pretty cool.

The band The AKAs (Are Everywhere!). I bet it’s really talking about sorority girls. That would make more sense. I mean seriously. Go to any college town. You can’t get away from them. They’re all over the place with their flip flops, oversized tshirts, and highlights. *shakes fist*

Matt’s mom and I were outside picking vegetables, and she said, “Hey Liz…” I looked at her, and she was holding the hugest fucking cucumber I’ve ever seen. I’m in the kitchen looking at it right now. It’s at least 15 inches long, and at its widest girth, about 3 inches in diameter. Anywho, huge cucumber, and she hands it to me and says, “In case you get tired of Matt…”
…

So naturally, I went inside and told my fast- moving lover {Matthew, not the cucumber [I call him Larry (Actually, I just made that up. But I'm going to start calling him that. Oh, that Larry)]} told my fast- moving lover that he had been replaced, and I showed him Larry. Matt says, “Hey, that looks familiar, except it’s not purple and closer to your bed.”

…
Touche’.

So Zephyr has sent me 2 things since I’ve been here, and that has been about 2 days. When we got home from swimming, Matt’s mom says, “What the fuck is stuck in my door?” If you’ll notice, fuck and stuck rhyme.

So anywho, it was a huge ass green ball (not “huge” and “ass green”, nor “huge ass green”, but “huge ass” and “green.”) addressed to Matt’s house from Grrl Scout Camp. It had a postage sticker stuck to it. The back of it said, “I hope you’re having a ball.”

HA!

And yes, it’s Hazlewood, not Hazelwood. And if you’re just now joining us (welcome, and f yoo) Zephyr is a couselor at Girl Scout Camp.

Anywho, I got a package with the following in it:

• A letter on paper about ticks. Because she’s at camp.
• A stick. Because she’s at camp.
• A Circle A Word, AKA Word Search Puzzle about Time For Camp. On the back, it has an order form, and she has checked and underlined “I want a bigger bargain!” and she added three exclaimation points. Chk chk chk. < 3
• Plastic string with which Matt says I’m supposed to make a keychain.
• A Q- tip.
• Green Embroidery floss.
• Jokers from those waterproof cards that we bought at Booksamillion. Zephyr put them over her eyes. I put them over my nipples. Naturally.
• A cool swirly paper with fancy stuff on the back.
• The same dead battery I sent her. She didn’t find a use for it.
• Yard sale stickers, complete with “Make Offer”.
• A green army tag that says “Camp Like a Girl”.
• A black rubber bracelet (think breast and testicular cancer) that says the same.

“I finally had bowel movements yesterday.� It was a two- part saga and wasn’t the most pleasant of experiences.

“Maybe you could work here next year.� Your nature name can be could be Liz.ard.

*draws a snake and scribbles it out*

“…Well, that’s a snake.

“-w/e-”

Oh, that Zephyr.

I haven’t talked to Dave in a while.� He blogged the other day, and I was filled with excitement.

Matthew and I went shopping for home furnishings.� We bought wooden plates and a cat ladder.

So in conclusion, Matt is asleep, Mom’s in the shower, and Ghost Hunters is on. � Larry’s looking pret-ty good right now.

…

To eat.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, June 28th, 2006 at 8:06 PM and is filed under Awkward Scenarios, Dating, Family, Nasty. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.