More! More! More!
Remember ages ago when I asked you for a tortilla?� Tony was the only one to send me one.� Thanks, assholes.� Thanks alot.
Dammit, Janet, I love you.
I really would like to see that live.� I hope Jade and I can find a cheap theatre in the Village where we can see it.� Dustyn wants to see it, too.� Davo was going to be Rocky for Halloween… I don’t know if he ended up doing it or not.� I think he just wanted to wear a speedo in front of people.
Camille gave me a good idea for a Halloween costume, but I don’t think even I would do it:� the Coppertone baby.� Get a nude coloured unitard and some blue briefs, and attach a dog to your ass.� Cute, but geez, why not just go naked except for the briefs?� Really now?
Speaking of unitard, JR painted me last night.� It looks really nice.� I’m pleased.� If anyone would like to see, just ask, I have pictures.� Or just come to the performances.� Cats, if you’re an idiot who has no idea what’s going on in my life.� Asshole.
High School Time:
Everyone is bugging me about prom.� They all want me to go.� I, on the other hand, could give a rat’s ass about prom.� I give the excuse that I wouldn’t have anyone with whom to go, and it really is the truth.�� I know I’ve already blogged this, but geez, it’s just too funny:
Liz:� Prom is short for promenade, and I certainly can’t promenade by myself.
Hog:� Psht!� Prom is short for prom-a-night!
Hahah, she’s so excited.� She’s going to have sex with her boyfriend.� Beth gave her a tube of Vasoplex as a joke, and Hog and her boyfriend used it, and she had to go to the emergency room because it burned so bad.
That’s not the reason why she had to go to the emergency room, but it would have been funny.
The real reason she went to the emergency room was because she got a mascara wand stuck in her ear.� True story.� No, seriously.� That’s really why she went.
I’ve had so much about which to blog, but I never can remember once I get in front of the computer.� Before I forget, Steve is getting published!� Holly and I jumped and squealed like little girls when we found out.� Oh wait…
Speaking of squealing, Dustyn is coming down/up/over here the weekend of the 10th.� Fun times will be had by all.
“You have a sexy pancreas”
“You have a sexy sphincter”
“You have sexy cerebral juices”
“You have a sexy pleural sac”
It goes on and on and on.
Everybody hates a tourist.
Today in fizzicks, we talked about friction.� With Mrs. Cres, friction is funny in itself.� I mean, if you’re a rapper, friction = sex.
But today, we talked about bare friction as compared to friction with a lubricant.� And rubbing up against each other.� And shafts.� And pleasing.� Orally.
Once I was doing a lab with Mark, Steve McGee, and Davey, the three most ridiculously dirty guys ever.� Mrs. Cres came over to help us with something, and she said “shaft…erect…balls…hit…hump…shaft…grind…lubricant…sack…” ALL in the same sentance.� Of course, I had my head turned to the wall, crying in my laughter.� All three of the dudes had a straight face.� I must be 13.
But one time at the beginning of the year, I wasn’t listening to anything she was saying… I was seriously thinking about some boy or something, and I was smiling of course, and she said, “Look at Liz, she’s thinking dirty!”� I may or may not have been, but if it was, it wasn’t a result of something she said.� After class, I asked her what she had been talking about, and she said something about dropping her balls, and she thought it was hilarious.
Of course dropping your balls is funny until it doesn’t happen to you.� That’s what happened to my Jack Russell, Pokey.� We named him Pokey because he humped everything.� I didn’t think animals humped until they grew balls.� I thought wrong.� He got run over.��So did his brother, Giblet.� I named both of them, obviously.
Zephyr’s fizzicks teacher drew a “personal massager” on the board once.� It was supposed to be a bullet…of… something or other.
I’ve blogged that already, but like earlier noted, it’s just too damn funny.
I said the F word so many times today.� Hog and I say the F word to each other too much.
“Shut the F up, Hog!”
“F you, Snodgrass!”
I think it’s funny when the interns call me by my last name.� It’s just not a last name by which one would call someone.� I should make them call me Smitty.� Or just go back to Copperhead.� Copperhead just seemed a little dykish.� Shut up, Daniel Ryan.
stfu.
The people at the nursing home really pissed me off.� They just don’t care about the residents.� If I could, I would take Mrs. Dollie, Mrs. Georgia, Mrs. McCallister, and all of the other ones and take them home with me so they wouldn’t have to stay in that shithole.� I would hate it there.� I want to die when I can’t wipe my own ass.� It would be so degrating to be in that position.� My mom isn’t going into a nursing home.� She already told me she wants to be in a retirement home.� She thinks it would be fun.� Okay…
I love Rocky Horror : )
I love it I love it I love it I love it *kicks the air*
Ashley is afraid of the Mormon boys who come into the library.� I think that’s funny.� She thinks that they’re going to condemn her to hell.� I told her that they wouldn’t do that. “They aren’t like your people.”� I always make fun of her becuase she’s a Southern Baptist.� She makes fun of me because I’m not.
I think everyone should check out a band called Art Brut.� I heard them on Sirius Left of Center.� Great band.
I don’t have sheets on my bed.� They’re in the laundry.
“I shan’t play with you anymore until you’ve had a wash!”
- Saladfingers
Don’t read this, Dustyn:
Dave had a good theory that I’m going to borrow:� the world would be a better place if we were invaded by aliens.� See, when the States were “invaded,” we all came together to make one “I’m going to kick your ass if you mess with Texas” country.� If aliens invaded, we would have to come together, all of the countries, the continents, to form one big proverbial Pangea to kick Planet X’s ass.
Mike from Dive Enterprise really really believes in aliens.� Like, it’s a serious subject for him.� Just ask him about God.� Ask him.� I dare you.
Not you, though, Dustyn.� You aren’t even supposed to be reading this.� However, you can continue.� The bad part is over.
I keep mentioning him because he’s afraid of aliens.� Not as much as I’m afraid of ketchup.� I’d rather eat a homeless guy’s vomit than ketchup.� Seriously.
Speaking of Planet X, Liz, when is that?
Spring break will be fun for me.
Mr. More, my English teacher, has been high for the past week or so.� We have this project, and he keeps changing it.� Everyone is saying he’s hitting the ganja or something, but I just think it’s a cold medicine or a painkiller or something.� I don’t think he’d come to school after smoking the reefer.� He did alot though when he was in college.� He tells us stories.� Damn frat boys.
Damn you, ATO’s.� That’s why I drove through your damn wall.� Kidding.� I mean, I did drive through your wall, but not on purpose.� I was on my way to church.� I loved that car.� Sorry.� My insurance money paid for it, though.� Not that you cared, though.� The only ones who cared were your rich alum.
As pretentious as this is, I don’t want to pay to have friends.
That’s going to make everything hit the proverbial fan.
I got the whole “proverbial fan” deal from Steve.� Like that, huh?� He’s being published.
So in conclusion, Dustin Crow is a Chuck Norris follower.� That suprises me.
fin.
(that makes me indie.)