Monday Bear

So I’ve concluded that the last blog sucked and I will never ever EVER do that again. I just wanted to see what would happen if I blogged a semi- serious blog, and you know what happens? I get one comment. One measley comment. From Zephyr.

Did anyone notice that I started my blog with a similar phrase to that with which I usually end my blog?

Did anyone notice that that was worded totally weird for the sake of not ending a sentence with a preposition? Measley- I just noticed that that word is like measles, but not. And they said it alot in the Leave it to Beaver era, when measles were popular.

Yes, popular.

And in two sentences in a row, I used the phrase “that that.”

I always tell my friends that if they love their boyfriends, they shouldn’t go snooping through their shit, because they might find something that may upset them. Not necessarily incriminating, but maybe a picture of an ex girlfriend or something. Chances are, he doesn’t even care about her anymore, and more than likely, he doesn’t even realize he still has it. You know how guys are. Hell, the way Matt is, he probably still has pictures of that girl around whom he drew that heart in his 7th grade yearbook.

Just chill out, ladies.

That goes for internet stalking, too. Don’t try and dig up information about your boyfriend’s ex- girlfriends. You’re prettier than she. You’re more successful than she. You’re better than she is in all aspects of life– That’s why you’re the girlfriend now instead of her.

It took me forever to realize that, but it’s the truth.
Think about all your exes– isn’t the person you’re with now 72 times better?

When I was reading Matt’s middle school yearbooks a couple months ago, I almost died. First of all, I saw Justin in a singlet. (I still wish I could see Steve in a singlet). But I noticed that those kids use curse words at every opportunity, because they’re “grown up” and they can:

“Have a damn good summer.”
“Hey Matt, you’re a bitch! LOL!”
“I love your asshole!”
“You’re an asshole”
“I love your ass.”

I had this crazy dream.� Matt had a double.� Not just someone who looked like him, but I just had 2 Matts.� So I was jacking them both off at the same time (so it kind of looked like I was skiing).� They weren’t touching me at all, but it was the most pleasurable experience ever for me.� I had the biggest orgasm ever giving these two Matthews handjobs.

Handjobs?� I mean, come on.

So I’m really excited about Halloween. Terri’s having a party. I’m going to be Strawberry Shortcake.

Sometime after that, we’re having a sex party. Not an orgy, we’re all monogomous. I’m talking about those “Pleasure Parties.” Like a tupperware party, except better.

You’re invited.

If you’re ever face with the dilema of getting your labia pierced or having sex, you should always have sex, because:

• Sex is free, piercings are not.
• When you get your labia pierced, you can’t have sex for like, 8 years, or until it heals. Whichever comes first.

So while we’re talking about sex, I have an important announcement:

Once upon a time, one of my friends, (let’s call her Gracie) was having sex with her boyfriend. (Wow, Liz, that’s amazing) They decided to get a little adventurous, so he ties her up and blindfolds her. He’s teasing her and messing with her and stuff, and he says, “I’ll be back in a minute.” Minutes later, he returns, and he sticks something up her ass. She didn’t like this at all. They had had anal sex before, but this just felt weird. She thought it was a wet towel. He took it out, since she didn’t like it and all, and they had awesome sex.

The next day, she found out what it was.

It was a hotdog.

…

I shit you not. What in the fuck possessed him to stick a hotdog up his girlfriend’s ass? Out of all the penis-esque foods out there, a hotdog, made of dead animals is what he chooses.

I’m all for playing with food, whatev. But I cross the line at meats. Especially the processed kind.

Actually, I should say that I cross the line right before meat, so we don’t even get into the meat business.

I mean, how nasty is that? My poor friend… I love her. She can’t help it her boyfriend’s a nastyass.

“Hey baby, remember that time you stuck something really nasty up my butt?”

The worst thing I’ve ever had in my bum was a peepee.

But I guess if I had to bring meat into the bedroom, I would use William’s Sausage, hands down.
Speaking of butts, I hardly pooped all weekend, but when I got to school Sunday, I had explosive diarrhea.

I really have alot of respect for people who wait to have sex. I wish I would have waited longer. Most people say that people who wait until marriage have alot of will power. However, if you refuse to have sex for 18+ years, I’d say you have won’t power.

I wish I had a flower in my hair. That would be pretty. I really love flowers.

Except roses. I hate those.
Matt and I were going to go to the museum Saturday, but there were too many people there, and my boyfriend is a sociopath. So we went to the art supply store instead.

Alyssa came into my room a couple hours ago when I was about 5 seconds from masturbating. I was just about to put my batteries in the bullet. She said, “What are you doing?” And I said, “I’m about to take a nap.” It was the truth. I was going to take a nap afterward. I usually do.

Now she’s going to read this and CRACK UP. And she’ll call Spencer and tell him about it. Or Morgan. Or me.

Apparently there’s this secret to getting sex when you want it. I learned it this weekend, and it works.

GOOOOAL!
The other day in McCallie, this guy told me that he can’t sleep without an erection.
I can’t sleep with an erection. I can’t have something poking me in the butt all night.

“Do you still have your keychain clipped on to your pants, sweetie?”

“Is that an erection, or are you just happy to see me?”
So I’m going to rant for a bit, as most bloggers do. I hate it when I’m trying to tell a story, or just say anything in general, and someone keeps butting in. That happens very much with this one particular person. It pisses me off so bad, so I’ve come up with a system: The second time she interrupts me, I just leave the room. Ususally someone (Mary) will say, “Where are you going, Liz? I want to hear the rest of your story.” But the interrupter hardly ever notices my absence.
Also, I’ve got this… girl. She’s probably the least environmentally concious person I know. She’s always making fun of me for being a hippie (she’s just jealous) and she thought my recycling project was stupid. And and and she uses aerosol everything. Aerosol deoderant, aerosol hairspray, aerosol perfule, aerosol lysol, aerosol cheese, and much much more.
And she uses baby oil and vaseline as lotion, and she -never- puts the tops back on. I put them back on if it’s grossing me out bad enough, but they’re always back off by the end of the day. It would be different if it was just a bathroom, but I eat in there, too, you know? Don’t be getting vaseline on my trail mix.
And she’s an only child.
And she locked me out this morning, so I had to put my toothbrush and toothpaste in Alyssa’s room and borrow one of her jackets so I didn’t freeze my boobs off.

That’s all.

I took a pooping break here. In the Honors Building. An Honors Poop. Pooping with the best. If I were a Junior or Senior, it would be Advanced Honors Pooping.
“My webcam was on, and he smelled like cum.”
- Mark Hall.

I never thought I’d say this, but I miss his stories.

“So this 5 is over here playing with himself…” *Liz giggles* “…By himself…”
- Greg, my math professor.
Apparently, I’m doing that whole �I�m in Colleen and that obviously means that I don�t have to post� thing again.

…

Speaking of which, I happen to like Matt’s beard. I think it’s sexy.

If I was a man, I’d have a beard. I’d look sexy with a beard.

If I were a man, I mean.

One day my senior year, David Roberson got some of that KY Warming Lube, put it on the palms of his hands, and got unknowing bystanders to shake hands with him. I fell for it, but my hands had a warm, tingly sensation all day long.

So in conclusion, Matt’s getting parrot because he gets lonely without me. Squawk, Squwak. *snap snap, bongo bongo*

This entry was posted on Tuesday, October 10th, 2006 at 5:00 PM and is filed under Awkward Scenarios, Dreams, Food, Language, Nasty, Pooping, Secks. 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.