So I won’t be blogging in the next few days, for Matthew (Hubert) will be in town (hopefully) this weekend.
Pet names and terms of endearment only work for some people. Or maybe it’s just certain terms of endearment. Some can be ridiculous. Mark Adam’s little sister calls her boyfriend Mr. Waddlesworth. Yeah.
I’m afraid I’m going to be a little out of practice as a kitten. I haven’t performed since Saturday, and my next one is Friday. At least I’m getting rid of this horrible horrible cold. My mum and Steve are both trying to make me take that Airborne mess.
A. It isn’t FDA approved.
B. It’s effervescent and makes my nose tickle.
C. It tastes like goat pee.
There’s Jared, it was blog-worthy.
You know those little cards that always fall out of magazines? Beth filled one out for me to send to the Marines:
Name: Mrs. Sexaholic Liz T.
Address: 1002 Working Order
City: Headland
State: TN
ZIP: SEX
Telephone #: Doesn’t matter I’ll be BUSY!!!
Last grade completed: Kindergarten
DOB: Aug/5/88
Name of School: “Natural” Redhead
Now that wasn’t very nice. But I filled one out for her that went a little something like this:
Name: Beth Fucking Copeland
Address: 72 Handjob Hill
City: Virginton
State: NA
Telephone #: Let’s have “text sex”
Email: boobs@ihatesex.org
I wonder how many of you are going to try and email that…
… It says the address doesn’t exist.
After we poked a little fun at ole Billy Shakespeare, Matt made me this graf:
I went undergarment shopping the past 2 days. I got some stuff. Nice things. “Dainties” as some would call them. I don’t call them dainties though. I call them Delicates. Because that’s how you have to wash them.
Speaking of, don’t you hate it when you have those bras that are like a suit of armour, you know the ones that keep their shape after you take them off, and you wash them, and they get a dent in them, and then they look like you have perpetually hard nipples or a deformed breast? That happened to the bra I got in Omaha. One of the bras I got in Omaha. Kohls was having a sale.
I wish we had a Fredrick’s of Hollywood. That’s a fun place.
Crazy old Jews and their Omaha Element shirts.
I’m goth in Omaha.
This would be my child if I had a child. We bought her pirate gear because she’s poor. Just ask me to show you the Jesus Magic video. It is… hiwawious.
So Sarah told me that she saw Mr. Parker… Mr. Parker, the guidance counselor, the one who calls everyone “Buddy,” adjusts his glasses, and rubs his hands together in that guidance counselor- type way, in SPENCERS. Not only Spencers…. the BACK of Spencers. That’s right… Mr. Parker in the back of Spencers.
Earlier this year, we discussed him having sex with his wife…
As he waits for his wife to finish freshening up, he waits on the bed. Leaning back in his tightie whities, he adjusts his glasses, claps, and rubs his hands together, guidance counselouresquely. He exclaims, “Allllright, buddy! I’m ready! Let’s do this! heh heh heh!”
I bet he was really hot when he was younger, though.
You’re going to make fun of me for saying that, aren’t you?
You all can thank me later.
-shudders-
You know who else used to be hot? Mr. Ams. His senior year of high school. Seriously. I guess intelligence is just hot.
Now this may be (is) ridiculous, but check out Mr. Parr when he was in his late twenties. I know, I know…
But they’ve got nothing on Matthew.
What an eventful night that was at Sokol Underground. Let’s all do that again. Minus Rocky, Bullwinkle, and Icky. And that goth kid. Just Lia, Liz, and Dan. The gay friend.
I’m pretty sure Davo and Liz look like a couple of scared rabbits in this photo. Or scared rabbis. Or rabies. I just found a picture of his feet last night. And a picture of Walter looking at my computer screen with Barney in his mouth. He put Barney in his mouth because apparently, back in the day when we had squiggle pens, if you bite on them and look at a TV, it gets all weirdlike. Squiggley. Then we got the idea to try that with Barney, even though it isn’t a Squiggle Pen. All that did for me, though, was make my nose tickle. Kind of like Airborne.
I love how I captured Steve McGee at the perfect emoment. (get it?)
He isn’t really emo, but Holly and I say that he is. He gets really defensive about it, too, which is awesome. He does act it a little sometimes. The black hoodie doesn’t help. Or maybe it does. It could be classified as a 14 year old goth kid hoodie.
Holly and Liz, simultaneously: OMG, he’s so emo!
Liz: (begins to sing that I Must Be Emo song)
Steve: See, I’m not emo because I -can- get through a Hawthorne Heights album without sobbing. I just hate them so much that it makes me angry.
Liz: Angry, eh? So you’re punk now?
Just for clarification, Steve McGee IS NOT Holly’s Steve. Holly’s Steve just looks like your average conservative.
Oh, excuse me, he’s “moderate” now.
There’s some Star Wars pornography for you folk.
I tried to find that photo of Mark eating his wallet.
“Hey Liz, I’m putting my money where my mouth is.”
Now that’s Liz humour if I ever did hear it.
*hangs self*
I could never write with Squiggle Pens. I always had to either leave them off, or just take out the colour thing. I’m delicate. But I’m not a delicatessian.
So in conclusion, I have to go call Matt’s mom. His mom. Yes, his mom. To talk. Am I frightened? Maybe. I’m a nice girl, I’m a nice girl, I’m a nice girl.
And I’m sorry for my photographs possibly causing the page to take a longass time to load. But it was worth it. Just like the handjob. 5 of you got that.