Monday Bear

So when a man asks a woman out on a date, it should be understood that he pays for everything, at least up until the 5th or 6th date.  He shouldn’t use the fact that he’ll pay for everything as a tool of persuasion.

Brad:  Candice, please come bowling with me.  You don’t have to pay for anything; I’ll cover it all.  I’ll pay for your shoe rental, your games, and I’ll even buy you a drink.  I’ll even drive all the way to Samburg to pick you up, and you don’t even have to give me gas money.
Hog:  But Brad,  it’s quarter night!
Brad:  Well, Samburg is really out of the way.

My old therapist came to our performance last night.  I was very very very psyched to see her.  She’s lost alot of weight.  I haven’t seen her in about 2 years now.  Maybe a year and a half.  I thought it was very cool of her to come.  That made my night.

Liz: I found some really nice material out of which I can make some curtains for our bedroom.
Matt: I already got curtains.
Liz: I wish you would have told me.
Matt: Well I figured you already knew.
Liz: Well I bet this material is 72 times cooler than your curtains.
Matt: Oh, I doubt that.
Liz: Oh yeah? What do your curtains look like?
Matt: You know. Curtainy and… light- blocking.
Liz: I mean, what colour are they?
Matt: What do you mean, what colour?
Liz: … You didn’t really get curtains, did you…
Matt: Why would I get curtains?

That is precisely why I love that man.  That and the fact that he’s been wearing the same cropped pants for well over a week.  I guess it really doesn’t matter when you’re at Bonnaroo with all of the other smelly hippies, but still, a week?  Come on : )
I really hope he showers before he comes over here Tuesday/ Wednesday.  I don’t want to cuddle with anyone who smells like BO and pot.

Okay, I do.  But I’d rather cuddle with someone who smells like Matt.

BO and pot.

Just kidding : )  He smells very nice most of the time.

I think it’s romantic how Steve moved to this shithole for Holly.  Granted, she did tell him that UTMartin has one of the best English programs in the country, but still, romantic nonetheless.

You know how I always have those crazy dreams, and how I’m always using puns.  Welp, the other night I had a semi- strange dream:
I wake up to my alarm clock faintly playing some ’70’s funk stuff, roll over, and see Matt, halfway sleeping.  As I scratch his beard like I do in the morning when we wake up, I said, “Good morning, sweetie.”  He grumbled out a half-assed “good morning.”  I kissed him (morning breath and all) and I said, “Get it?  Good mourning?  We’re going to a funeral!”
So last night after the performance, we all went to Applebees.  My brother was working, and Jonathan thought he was “H-O-T-T hot”.  Michele is just so cute.  I love her.  She drives crazy.
There’s this really skanky bar next to the theatre called Bottoms Up.  They have the best hamburgers in town.  Anywho, when Michele dropped me off at my car, she sat there until I got in and drove off.
“I don’t want someone dragging you into Bottoms Up and giving it to you bottoms up.”
- Michele

That said, stay off your fucking cell phone.  Everyone knows I hate cell phones.  If you’re hanging out with people, turn your cell phone off.  If you absolutely cannot turn it off and must answer it when you get a call, keep your conversation to a 30 second maximum.  If the phone call is very important, take it outside or to the bathroom.  Seriously, I don’t want to hear about how much of a bitch your roommate is.

And for Pete’s sake, DON’T TALK ON YOUR FUCKING PHONE IN A RESTAURANT.

It even bothers me when people text message while they’re hanging out with someone.  Am I not interesting enough for you?

I think it’s absolutely silly how some people cannot live without their cell phone.  Not very many people are so important that their phone calls cannot wait 30 minutes.
Cellophones are probably the most obnoxious inventions ever invented.
Welp, right after those talking fish and the H- bomb.

“Hey Liz, I’m putting my money where my mouth is.”
- Mark Hall

Oh yeah, whoever is messing with that thing in my front yard, fucking stop it.  It’s depreciating the value of my mom’s property.
And I see where you messed with that thing in my neighbor across the street’s yard.  A 75 year old woman lives there.

So I got the best letter in the whole world yesterday.  It’s from Zephyr.  She’s a counselor at girlscout camp right now.  When I read it, I literally LOL’d.  : )  Here are some excerpts:

*waves profusely*

“I haven’t pooped in nearly a week.”

“Are you and Matthew/ Matthew and you having the funz0rxz, or getting to see each other a lort?  I can’t remember if you said you guys would be separated for a month or what.  We (the camp) has a few cases of tampons stockpiled in the nurse’s building.  We also get free postage, so I should send you a bunch.”

“Speaking of which, that’s the reason the camp terlets are getting stopped up.  I do seem to be talking about bafroom stuff a lot, but for rrrul.  I deal with a lot of shit here, literally.   Pray that none of the girls gets the upchuck reflux on Spam Suprise night.”

“This is a rather long letter and the porcelain throne becons me and my terlet toil commode- plunging talets.

“Yours Pooply,

Zephyr “

She is in charge of girls aged 6- 9.  Here is a list of some things they have said:

• “What flavour is your toothpaste?”
• “How old are you?  30?  25?  16?”  [She's 18.  And a half.]
• “When we swim, do we have to get in the water?”
• “Miss Zephyr, the birds wake me up.”
• “If you hold your tongue out and keep your mouf open, a birdie will come in and make a nest in there.”
• “I found a slug and named him Harold Herbert Higgins, or just Herbie for short.”
• “I have a bug bite on my butt crack.”
• “Zephyr!  Mary Kate is licking the tree bark!”

Oh yeah, and remember a couple months ago when I was talking about how my nipples felt weird?  Zephyr was the only one who asked about them.  The rest of you suck.

Except Tony, because he was the only one who sent me a tortilla when I asked for one.
So in conclusion, my toilet paper looks like a mouse got into it.

This entry was posted on Sunday, June 18th, 2006 at 12:39 PM and is filed under Dance, Dating, Dreams, Philosophy, Pooping. 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.