Monday Bear

So did you know that Good ‘n Plenty is an aphrodisiac for women? That’s probably why it’s called Good ‘n Plenty. If ya catch my drift.

Too bad I don’t like licorice. Or should I say, lickorice.

Now if cheesecake were an aphrodisiac, then you’d be speaking my kind of language. Using my kind of currency. Walking my doggie.

I made that last one up. Sounds good though, eh?

Eva since I can rememba I been walkin’ my doggie, walkin’ walkin’ my doggie.

So today was probably the most eventful productive day since High School graduation thus far. Mummie is out of town, so I’m throwing this wild and crazy party.

Kidding. I don’t -do- parties.

So far today I:

• Got up to go to ballet class.
• Went to ballet class.
• Danced at ballet class.
• Watered my moms plants, which I was supposed to do two days ago. Whoops.
• Made a fancy lunch from a frozen box.
• Washed dishes.
• Wiped off the counter tops.
• Took out the garbage.
• Played with my weiner.
• Fed her.
• And the cat.
• Bought Milk and Diet Rite (R) at the grocery store.
• Was early to rehearsal.
• Finished copying my myspace blogs to this blog.

In no order of importance or appearance.
At least a cat didn’t pee on my bed. Or my head. Or on my bread for that matter. My cat knows where to pee and poop, and he does so in the proper location.

Speaking of which, I haven’t cleaned out the litter box until Thursday. Hrm.

Oh, and I figured out why my kitchen smelled like something died in it.

I found Fritz in the bottom of a box of Fruity Pebbles.

Just kidding.

I really had just cleaned up some milk with these dishcloths the other day and put them in the sink. When I rinsed them out and took them to the laundry room, my kitchen stopped smelling. Voila.

And I’m thinking the other day was Thursday.

Also, I haven’t showered since…yesterday morning. That’s really good for me. I meant to shower today after ballet, but, meh. I like my natural scent. I haven’t washed my hair since Wednesday. It’s about time, too. And it’s about to. Not two though.

Sorry, that’s just still funny.

Toto, I don’t think we’re pregnant anymore.

Not that I was pregnant. I was just kind of worried that Matt was with child. Expecting. Prego. And I don’t mean the sauce.

Unless we’re talking about sweet satisfaction sauce. Al right.

So we know that when someone has a sexual dream about someone else, it doesn’t nessecarily mean that he or she wants that person in a sexual way, right? It just means that these two people are becoming closer to one another on an emotional level.

And if someone has a sexual dream about someone else, it doesn’t mean that he or she is homosexual, it just means that he or she is normal, because whether you like to admit it or not, most of you have had a sexual dream about someone of your own sex. And it was probably one of your friends after becoming closer to them.

This said, I have this friend. Let’s call her… Friz. Well Friz had a very disturbing lesbonic dream involving oral sex, omelettes, and… let’s call her Shoenail. Now, Friz and Shoenail were never friends. In fact, Friz thought Shoenail was an overbearing frigid bitch. On top of that, the two girls hadn’t seen each other since graduation. So there is no way that Schmelsey and Friz could be building a closer and more meaningful relationship. Hell, Friz doesn’t even find Shoenail physically attractive.

So what the f does this mean?

I’m really contemplating posting this whole dream. If I arouse enough interest, it shall be blogged.

“Sorry, my balls smell really good.”
- Dan
So you know how sometimes if you experience something with someone, or if you hear something about someone, that image of that person stays with you forever?
Welp, Carolina Smith mentioned this one girl, let’s call her Bachael, and the first thing I thought was, “She thought that penises had two orifaces. Like a double- barrel shotgun.” Not that there’s anything wrong with thinking that penises have two orifaces. It’s a completely logical assumption– I mean, why don’t they? Our parts do. It’s just strange that this girl thought so until she was about 15.

So here is a list of people and my first reaction to them:

Bachael = Double Barrelled penis
Schmelsey= Stringy melted cheese
That kid from my church = Putting poison ivy down his underwear in the 4th grade.
Messica = Lazy eye, overbite, stomach stapling.

That’s just a short list. I wonder what people first think when they hear my name. I’m curious. Let me know.

Last night on The Simple Life, they had to fill in for this pregnant housewife, therefore wear a pregnant suit. I got a great idea from Nicole Richie:

I want to put one of those bellies on, go to a bar, and order 5 shots of Tequila. Matt could cheer me on as I downed them like a man. While we were at it, he could punch me in the stomach a few times.
And if we hadn’t seen either of our parents in a few months, we could give them a nice suprise.

Wouldn’t that be fun?

So Alley is making me go to… Nappy’s. Nappy’s is this bar/ club thang in the projects of Union City that opens up at 3AM and closes at 7AM.
I’m going to have to wake up reallllly early.

Excuse me, I’m Liz. I’m too white to eat chicken.

So in conclusion, I’m going to be a doctor like Bill Cosby. So we can have antics. And lots of pudding pops. Because pudding pops are where it’s at. I got two turntables and a microphone.

This entry was posted on Monday, June 5th, 2006 at 11:02 PM and is filed under Awkward Scenarios, Babies, Dreams, Food, Television. 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.