Monday Bear

So my dear friend Zephyr is usually a counselor at Girl Scout Camp right about this time of year, but decided to take this summer off to explore herself.  To join the Peace Corps. To write a cookbook.  Catch up on school and take a few classes at MTSU.  To avoid cleaning my house, and because I missed her, I wrote her a letter the other day on one of those giant pieces of papers they wrap your fragile stuff in when you buy it.  In this case, it was a flower pot.

And Zephyr, please don’t read this until you get the letter, as that would defeat the purpose of the letter.

Anywho, here is the letter:

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or Hey, Are You Going to Wizzie Man?

or Hey.  Give Me Some Fucking Weed.

or Hey.  Give Me Some Fucking Crepes.

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 So the other day, Al Gore, Jim Wales, and John Seigenthaler came to my school to talk about the First Amendment and the Internet.  John talked about Wikipedia, Jim talked about Wikipedia, and then there was a 45 minute lunch break before Al Gore talked.  Not wanting to lose my seat, I sat and waited.  Thirty minutes later, I realized I had to pee, so I left the auditorium to go to the bathroom.  When I come out, there’s Al Gore standing in the hallway, and he said to me:

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So I can’t freaking believe this shit. I’m missing Dr. Phil because I can’t work the damn damn television.

Edit: Matt helped me figure it out. Too bad I missed the good half of it. Anyway, tomorrow is anorexics. Should bring back funtime memories. Mammories. Should make me feel very good or very bad about self.

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So I think the crazy sandwich lady at McCallie is mad at me. She ususally tells me how much she likes my dresses and says how her parents wouldn’t let her be a hippie and how she calls her old dear mother every day and how I eat a wrap with lettuce, cheese, bell pepper, and onion every day. But now, it’s all business. She makes me a sandwich and hands me a plate. What did I do? Did she find out she actually creeped me out a little bit? Does she think I did something I didn’t do? I’m losing sleep over this, folks.
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So earlier today, I sat down to eat lunch, and I looked down to notice that my long sleeves were pulled up to my elbows. I started freaking out, thinking, “What in the world? How did they get up here?” I was very confused, because I did not recall pulling my sleeves up there. I fretted for several seconds, and then I realized: It’s not that big of a deal.

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So really, I can’t take the credit for that. It was all Mark Hall. He also came up with this one:

Biggie Smallz would have lived if he had more Security. Get it? Like if he had more people around him, he might not have gotten shot?

Remember when Matt used to be MTSU Boy?

I asked him what he used to call me before we dated, but I forgot he doesn’t tell people things. (more…)

So I just realized that I could never have a pager. You know why? Because I never call people back. If you’ve ever called me, I’ve probably not called you back. Don’t take it personally; I just tend not to call people back, just like some people tend to bite their nails or poop themselves. It’s just a bad habit.

My mom used to have a beeper when she was a social worker. I was seven. I thought that was just too cool, so I saved up my money and got a plastic beeper filled with bubblegum. (more…)

So I’m really bummed (get it?) about Taco Bell.  I’m just ready for this whole fiasco to be over with, because I miss Encharitos.  I’m so lost now, because that’s how I connected with friends in the olden days; I have so many memories with Alley Jo and Dan at Taco Bell.

Let’s reminisce about them, shall we?

• Every time I go with Alley Jo, there’s some black guy named Peanut working.  “Hey Peanut!  We need some burritos ova here!”  Now I’m going to name my first child Peanut.
• When Dan and I went to get Tacos for that way cool party we were attending where everyone had lightsaber battles.  We ordered 15 tacos and burritos in the drive- thru, and he said, “I hadn’t eaten in three days.  Is you ready for this?!?”
• That same night when he was complaining about the price increase of a taco at Taco Bell.  “49 cents, 59 cents, 69 cents, … twenty million dollaz!”
• When I went with Matt after our mall date and someone had written on the bathroom wall, “Fuck Sushi!”

(Speaking of bathroom walls…)    (more…)