Monday Bear

So here I am, waiting on Matthew to finish his lithography of me in my unnawears. I really have no updates on my life, but as always, I have many a witty quip.

I got my oil changed today, and whilest waiting, I read Everyday Living magazine by Martha Stewart. (I realize that most people dislike her, but I think prison inceases your cool factor exponentially.) I read a quote that struck me as familiar:
“There is a fine line between thriftiness and cheapness, which differentiates an admirable person from a disreputable one.”

Oh snap, am I disreputable? Alley says I’m cheap, but everyone is cheap to her– she’s a republican moderate.
On the other hand, my last bestfriendship ended as a result of my cheapness.
I think?

At any rate, I had the strangest dream the other night: In this dream, I was thinking to myself, “I’d like to be an aristocrat.” And what better way to become one than to become friends with Prince William. So I call him up and tell him about my wishes, and tells me that I should run for office for princess. I tell him, “You can’t run for a monarch title,” and he says, “You can too, I just changed it. I can do anything. I’m the freaking Prince of England.” So we’re toying with the idea, and he says,
Will: You know, I think you would make a good queen.
Liz: Really? Why do you think that?
Will: Well, my grandmother’s name is Liz, and I think it would fit in with tradition.
Liz: But doesn’t that mean I would have to marry you?
Will: Yes.
Liz: But… I don’t want to marry you, you’re my friend!
Will: Just think it over.

So next thing I know, I’m at the alter with Prince William, his big teeth are staring at me, and I’m wearing that huge gown with the 20 ft. train that princess Diana wore at her wedding. I think, “What the hell am I doing? Why am I marrying him? I dont even love him! I’ve got to say no. That’s it… I’m just going to say no… But my mom would be so disappointed. She thinks he’s cute, and this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Plus I’m going to be the freaking Queen of England.”
So we get married, and its a sexless marriage. We sleep in two different bedrooms. We’re still friends, so we play tag in the castle and everything, but its not great. I didn’t even feel like the queen of England. I got to wear a crown every day, and I lived in a big house, but that was about it. Being queen isn’t all its cracked up to be.

Plus everyone probably thought that I killed Di.

Which I didn’t.

The end.

So I was telling my mom that dream, driving home from dance rehearsal. As I walk into the house, I get to the part where I say, “Why am I marrying him? I don’t even love him!”
Matt had a look of sheer shock on his face, so I had to tell him, “No honey, not you, I’m talking about Prince William.”

If I had to make a choice, though, I would rather marry William than Harry. Harry is just the epitome of just-too-muchery.

Can you believe I’m doing my own html on this blog?  I’m writing it on a Mac, and my buttons are different.

I sometimes like to think of myself as a Mac girl, but then I remember my observation:  Mac boys are cuter than PC boys, and PC girls are cuter than Mac girls.

Generally.

Oh, and I’m cute.

So I had this conversation with my mom today:

Liz:  So I think my sociology teacher asked me out on a date today.
Mum:  Didn’t he see that big old ring on your finger?
Liz:  he?

I mean, she’s kind of cute… if you’re just into… sociology teachers…

What is everyone doing for Valentines Day?  Last year, we went out and got an ice cream cone.  This year, we’re getting an ice cream cake.  Next year we might buy an ice cream factory.

So in conclusion, in the midst of planning my wedding, I’ve finally learned the difference between Tiffany Blue, Robin’s Egg Blue, and Slurpee Vomit Blue.

This entry was posted on Monday, February 11th, 2008 at 10:21 PM and is filed under Dreams. 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.