Monday Bear

So we were in Fizzicks class:Holly:  My stomach hurts/
Liz:  Are you on teh ragz0rz?

You can’t make this stuff up.  Sorry about the last blog… It was a bit purged… but Trevor Smith did say a little somethin’ somethin’ about it.

I’m impressed with Emily’s blogging skills.  She learned from the breast.

That was a joke… because she has big boobs… get it…?  Like “oh my gah, somebody killed my parents… get it…?”

I don’t know if I blogged about this or not, but there’s more to it.  John, Steve’s ex- friend, with whom he and Holly tried to hook me up, is causing drama.  Obviously, nothing ever came of it, because he was an ass the day before he left.  It doesn’t bother me at all… I’ve moved way way way on, but it bother’s Holly and Steve.  Here’s what Holly wrote to me in Highschool note form:

Nevermind, I can’t find it.  But Steve started arguing about me, and he said, “Liz is an amazing lady, and there’s no way in hell you’re going to get another chance like that.” (among other things.)  Holly added that last part.

I wonder if Steve still uses that same tube of toothpaste.  Probably not.  He’s the type of guy who brushes his teeth 30 times a day and showers after every meal.  He still has my plate from when I gave him those hashbrownies.  Pansyboy.

So I had some help picking out Matt Callis’s birthday card.  I got him a Hello Kitty one with pink sparkley tattoos in it.  He and his mom loved it.  It was loved.  But anywho, I was trying to decided which one to get, but Jared said, “Wouldn’t you rather get a card with pink sparkley tattoos?”  I suppose I would.  I mean, fake tattoos are teh r0×0rz.  (not teh ragz0rz.)  But anywho, I was concerned about the pinkness and sparkleyness of them, but Jared said, “Liz, don’t take this the wrong way, but your kind of guy would love to get pink sparkley tattoos in the mail.”

welcome to the space jam, alright alright.

Yeah, you forgot that song existed, didn’t you?  I’m listening to it right now.  No, seriously.

And the other day, I listened to my Jordan Knight CD.  He was sooo dreaaaamy…

My cat is asleep on my sheetless bed, but he’s just too damn cute to kick off.

I love you.  NO NO NO, I LOVE YOU MORE!

That was dedicated to Dan.  I haven’t talked to you in a while, little fella.

Liz:  Dan used to play Lacrosse.
Matt:  More like Gaycrosse.

“Hi, Shhhh….ake my hand.”

It doesn’t work as well in text.  Somethings work better in text, but most don’t.  Like this:

Tupac could have lived if he had more Shakur- ity.

Biggie Smalz could have lived if he had more SECURITY… Get it?  Like if he had more people around him, he wouldn’t have gotten shot?

Make a wish.  It’s 3:33.

Sonny Bono could have lived if he had more Cher- curity.  Mark actually laughed at that one.  I’m funny!  I’m really funny!

Matt is coming to UC tomorrow.  He’s staying until question mark.  My couch has held many people in its lifetime.  It’s about time for a new damn couch.  But anywho, I’m excited.  Saturday, we are couchbedcouching at Steve and Holly’s.  This includes Chinese Takeout (for everyone but Holly… She get’s a Happy Meal) and coffee (for everyone but Holly and Matt.  They get something else).  They can have some of my Girl Scout coffee cookies though.  Yes, folks, that’s right.  I finally got my damned Girl Scout cookies in.  And Scrabbling will be had.  I beat Steve the English major at Scrabble.  I couldn’t walk straight, but gosh darnit, I could spell.

I won with the word “Labia.”  You’ve already heard/ read this story.

Yessirree, I can’t wait for some of my Steve’s- Appartment- Famous Coffee.

Mom:  I need to go get my headlights checked out.
Liz:  But you just had a mammogram last month.

That’s almost as good as the “leaky pie.”

Mrs. McCallister (yes, still alive) made me very upset today.  Yesterday, she was doing relatively well, but today, she was worse than ever.  She was shaking like mad, and she was bloated, and we could hardley understand anything she was saying.  All we heard was, “I don’t want to die.”
I can’t work in a nursing home.  I love old people, and I get so attached to them, and we develop such strong relationships that when they die, I can’t handle it.  I’m expecting Mrs. McCallister to “expire” any day now, but I’ll still be horribly upset.

We asked one of the nurses what happened to Mrs. Gladys, and she said, “She expired.”  She’s a human, not a fucking carton of milk.  She died.  She’s dead.  She didn’t expire, she didn’t pass away, she didn’t move on.  She died.

I hate euphamisms.

Also, I’m not as into Pink Floyd as I used to be.  And you know what?

I HATE METALLICA.

There.  I know I’ll get my ass kicked at the next show I go to, but still.  They’re so cheesexcore.  I just really hate Metallica.  There has never been a Metallica song that I have even remotely liked.

I should write a song about it and get together with Screetching Weasel.  They hate Led Zepplin, I hate Metallica… it’s a beautiful thang.  We could make an album.  We could team up with Rancid and NoFX, and they could play I Hate Pink Floyd and I Hate… Poison, respectively.

‘You can’t be an appreciator of rock music and hate Metallica, Liz.’

Like hell I can’t.  Bitches.

Oh, but Placebo has just put me in a great mood.

So in conclusion, I have this friend who is kind of like Virgin Mary but not.

This entry was posted on Thursday, March 2nd, 2006 at 3:25 PM and is filed under Breasts, Dating, Family, Music, Nasty, Old People. 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.