Archive for the ‘Breasts’ Category

If you were a kitty, I’d be the litter.

Friday, June 16th, 2006

So just as soon as I write the blog “There’s nothing I hate worse than stupid myspace layouts”, Tom goes and gays up the whole front myspace page. Seriously, there’s nothing gayer than that. Nothing against superman, but geez, guys, a busy background never did anything but hide someone’s hips. And let’s face it– I don’t see any big hips around here!

*looks down*

So today, Emily called herself a “big woman”. I thought one had to be a big fat black woman to be called “big”.

Big is beautiful…

(more…)

My girl wants to party all the time.

Thursday, June 15th, 2006

So I’ve just come to this realization today: I have big hair. That’s right, Liz has big hair. Big Ass Hair. You see me coming down the street, and you say, “oh look. It’s Liz ‘Big Ass Hair’ Snodgrass.”
Before I had big hair, or realized that I had big hair, whichever you prefer, I oftentimes wondered why the big- haired took such pride in their big hair.
Well here’s why: Not everyone can pull off big hair. I’m Liz, and I’m proud of my hair. In fact, I sometimes think it looks best on its biggest days.

Oh, I used to try to hide the fat (or should I say, PHAT) ness of my hair with flat irons, straightening serums, and other tools of torture, but now I embrace it. My hair is big and red and crazy. Like the Kool- Aid Guy. (more…)

what a mighteh mighteh good man.

Friday, June 9th, 2006

So I haven’t gotten much sleep in the past few days. This should make for a nice delusional blogging experience.

howdah n A seat or covered pavilion on the back of an elephant or camel.

I’ve got to get me one of those. (more…)

Seventy- two.

Wednesday, June 7th, 2006

So this is number 72 of all of my posts here at mondaybear.com.  Well, two of them are Holly and one of them is Matt, (Rock the Cock and “On it”)   I was going to celebrate with a Flashback blog, much like on The Golden Girls when the writers couldn’t think of anything, but I could actually think of something.  We’ll save Flashback Blog for post #111.

“I’d like to share some of my favourite memories with Trevor the Vampire.”

Or maybe the real 72. Depends on how little or how much pops into my head.  Or why don’t you sit in my lap and I’ll tell you about the first thing that pops up.

Oh, snap.

So today, Emily kicked Ms. Sacchi in the breast.
(more…)

People’s Boxes

Saturday, June 3rd, 2006

So first of all, I’m feeling alot better about this play. I even wore spike heels today in hopes that I would trip running down the stairs, but after we went through our lines a few times, I made sure to walk extra carefully.
So you all need to come see it the last 2 weekends of June. It’s full of British humour, innuendo, and Liz in her “smalls.” I, prefer to call them “skivvies” or “underpants,” but the script calls them “smalls.” I always thought he was a rapper.
A rapper like Matthew. I mean, I -am- one of those rap guys’ girlfriends. (more…)

Dat Purple Drank

Tuesday, May 30th, 2006

So I keep just barely missing 11: 11. This has happened twice in the past 13 hours.

That said, someone told me recently, “Liz, you just aren’t as funny as you used to be now that you’re in love.”
Excuse me, sir, but really, was I -ever- funny? Cute, maybe.

“Liz, you just aren’t as cute as you used to be now that you’re in love.”
That would make more sense if I was the type to doll (or gussy, if you will) myself up. When most women fall in love, they stop wearing makeup, never fix their hair, dress frumpily, and gain 72 pounds. Their reasoning behind this is that they have already “caught” a man… they don’t have to look good anymore. “Now I’ve got you where I want you, now I’m going to be a big ugly lardass.” (more…)

Hey, have you seen that crazy dog?

Sunday, May 28th, 2006

So I have no views so far today. I hate you assholes.

And just to clear a few things up: The last blog, the Matt cheating on me with Holly one, it was fake. Matt thought it would be funny to see who would try to “move in.” Not in a crazy possessive boyfriend way, but more like a “hahaha, she’s mine you cant have her” kind of way.

Here are some bad/ unfortunate things that happened: (more…)

Always a bridesmaid, Never a bride.

Saturday, May 20th, 2006

So just to get this out of the way, Matt and I are going to have a poop- off to see who poops faster. (make a wish) I know that I’m the faster pooper in this relationship, but he doesn’t believe me. I timed him today, and it took him 3 minutes to poop. Psht. That’s pathetic. I’m usually a minute and a half or less.

I guess I’m just a good relaxer. Probably because I’m a modern dancer. Not Fat.

So the main thing is my Alley Jo is getting married. Alley Jo and I have been friends for years and years. I met her the first time at church camp in 5th grade. I thought she was really cool and had a pretty voice, but she didn’t know I existed. The only other thing I remember is she flirted with all the boys and she cut holes in the knees of her Tommy Hilfiger jeans. How destructive. (more…)

Stop Making Fun of My Orthodontia!

Sunday, April 23rd, 2006

So why does the Prince (Erick) want Cinderella (Liz) and not the Stepsister (Michele)?

“Because she gives a good blog.”
- Michele
“She doesn’t have a gag reflex.”
- Erik

You know what’s really embarrassing? When you get hurt, and you want to whine, but everybody’s laughing. So you have to laugh, too. “Oh yeah, my eye’s bleeding! That’s funny! Ha! Yeah… yeah, I’m okay! Psht… just a little sharkbite. That never hurt anybody.”
What’s almost as bad is when you get hurt and everyone freaks out and stops what they’re doing. I like attention. I love attention. Everyone knows that. Just not that kind of attention. That happened to Zephyr, aka Joustin’ Jessica this weekend. She had a lovely time and got to pet a big lizard. A skank. I mean a skink.

I’d love to have some cookies right now, but gosh, I have a limited amount of time to blog. I don’t want to cheat you guys out of any good bloggin’, but I have to be finished by nine. Then mum wants to use the computer.
Ugh, I love cookies more than you guys. And by that, I mean I love cookies more than you guys love cookies. And also I love cookies more than I love you.

“Blog me, baby.”
- Matthew.

So Michael’s prom was last night. I had more fun than I anticipated. I mean before and after. The actual prom sucked, of course, but I had a GAY and merry time.
I felt kind of bad for leaving rehearsal at 1:15, but I guess in comparison, I did pretty well. The -only- reason I left that early was because Michael scheduled our photos for 3:30, and I had to take a shower and had no idea how I was going to wear muh hair. But some girls were leaving at 10 and 11 to get ready, and I’m sure their pictures were later than ours. Seriously, how long does it take to put a dress on and slap on some lipstick?

But I digress…

Our Glorified MegaVan was filled with fags and hags. And most of the fags and hags were wearing black and/ or red. We didn’t plan it. Isn’t that somethin’?
We ate at Olive Garden in Paducah. Olive Garden in Paducah is a family restaurant. I’m going to open a lonely people restaurant. No kids. No friends. Only old people and middle- aged men fresh out of divorces. There will only be tables that seat one person and one person only. If someone tries to sit two to a table, I’ll throw them out and say, “What the hell do you think this is, a family restaurant? Get the F out!” I have to use curse words. That’s the rules on a lonely people restaurant.

Oh yeah, you also can’t masturbate in Olive Garden. Not even under the table. But I can. And Sarah. Not Sarah Mahan. Married people don’t do that. They just coach each other in pooping. This is New Sarah. Or Sara. I just assumed it was Sarah. Let’s call her Sara to avoid confusion until further notice.

What kind of an idiot looks at soap? When I buy soap, I keep my eyes closed. “Irish Spring! yes!” It’s like Xmas, except without Jesus.
Caress. Dial. Lever 2000. Dove. Soft Soap. Zest.

Equate, for us poor folk.

We now have brand name peanut butter. All because of Matthew. Peter Pan. And you know what?

IT SUCKS.

Michael is a motorboatin’ son of a bitch.
“Hey Liz… I’m gay, too…”
- Tony

Just for clarification, that time that he told me he’s never seen boobies, he was joking. I was for sure he was serious. He’s a good actor. Or LIAR.

I’m so VAIN. VAIN VAIN VAIN. Vanity. Vanity is bullshit. So is variety.

Liz: Because variety is the fucking spice of life.
Sara: Bullshit.
Liz and Sara: Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.

Variety is bullshit. bullshit. bullshit. Variety? Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit. BFF. Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.
That’s every rap song.

Oh yeah, speaking of, I was introduced to new music last night. I had heard -of- the Laughy Taffy song. But I had never actually heard it. I finally did. Finally, after Tony made it happen. And you know what? It’s dirty.
My very favourite one was this one:

Bootehbootehbootehbooteh rockin’ everywhere. Bootehbootehbootehbooteh rockin’ everywhere. Bootehbootehbootehbooteh rockin’ everywhere. Rockin’ everywhere. Rockin’ everywhere.

That song means alot to me. I want it played at my funeral. My funeral party with a DJ and Cheetos. We’ve already blogged about this. I’m just reminding you.

Girl, I wanna get all up in yo’ crevices.

Afterward, we went to Huddle House where they have Icelandic Fish Sammidges, and *cough* Two Fisted Sandwiches. You have to use… both fists…

I’m just gonna walk away from that one.

Jared came by. I miss him. He’s been going through alot of. Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit. lately, and he says my blogs have helped him. Man, I really must give a good blog.

But I really am proud of you, Jared. My little Avant Garde cat.

Something that bothers me: Stoner Mike across the street and down two houses has said several things about me. Has he ever said anything to me? Ever? No. He even came to CATS. (A stoner came to CATS. How appropriate.)
So back to Promage. That’s like Fromage, except with a P.
Afterward, Sara and I went streaking in the Teenage Rebellion area. I just gave it that name a few hours ago. I call it the teenage rebellion area, because that’s where both tagging and streaking have occurred for me. Maybe if I ever decide to do drugs, I’ll do it there. As long as I’m still a teenager.
It’s that area between the railroad track and Cafe’ on Main… you know, the cornerish of Main St. and First St.
But now I can’t streak there anymore, because it’s on myspace. Next time, there will be a stalker/ rapist/ killer waiting for me, and I’ll get to be on the news like all those other girls.

Then I went home.

Today I had rehearsal, and I got a great moneyshot of both Michele and Delinda. I was very highly pleased with Michele’s musicality. You’re just like a real ballerina. Except better. You have multiple legwarmer.s.

Then I went to Bobbie’s. It used to be Billie, Bobbie, and Jamie’s way back in the day. Jamie was my hero when I was a young Liz. You know how every little girl has her teenage girl who she looks up to and wanted to be just like. Jamie was mine. She had big boobs and let me wear her makeup. Oh, and she was a cheerleader.
But we went over there, because Jamie is in from Cali. We caught up on alot of stuff, and funtimes were had. Lisa, the cat with no tail, is still kickin’. She’s almost as old as I am. And that’s old.

The other day, my brother Erick was over here and he was looking at my pictures on my dresser. He picked up my prom group picture from last year, the one with just girls in it, and he said, “Man, look at all those boobies.”
Ha.

Bootehbootehbootehbooteh rockin’ everywhere.

It’s 9:15 now, but mum hasn’t come in here to make me stop muh bloggin’.

Dammit, Linda.

So I was thinking: Short names are good when it comes to spelling and casual conversation, but long names are better for meaningful or formal conversation because they’re prettier. That’s why it’s good to have a “Duel Name,” as I just started calling it, just now when I typed that, such as Elizabeth, Matthew, Daniel, Ezekiel, Rebekah, Michael, or Richard. But especially Richard.

So in conclusion, I’m three inches smaller than I was this time last year, according to Sacchi. But that doesn’t mean anything. It’s Sacchi.

VagiClean, Aisle 7!

Saturday, April 15th, 2006

So yesterday, I hung out with Zephyr in Jackson. This was the only Good Friday that I hung out with her in Jackson that I -didn’t- have a wreck.
We went to Gunther Tootie’s a ’50’s diner where they have cool uniforms and funny potties. Now tell me this:

What’swith the little hump/lump/indention on the back of the seat? I don’t understand.
However, that photograph was taken immediately after I peed there… and flushed.
But please please, tell me… what’s with the hump?

Liz: Trixie’s been humping things lately.
Zephyr: Jackin’ off.

Then we read dirty novels aloud at BooksaMillion.
That was fun. Check out the title of thisun:

That’s right… “I Thirst For You.” It was right next to a book called “I Hunger For You.”
They were by the same author, of course. In the same series, no doubt. They were about vampires, but I didn’t know that until I got to the part where
“he drew his fangs upon her erect nipple, taking it into his mouth and suckling.” Here’s a selection:

Can you believe it said “cock”? Yeah, it said cock. It wasn’t a pornographic novel, just a “Romance” novel.
I read romance novels like crazy when I was thirteen, and never once did I -come- across one that said “cock”.

Garlic: It hurts so good.

Hey, that’s kind of like my acidic cavity. It burns so good.

Oh, and just for kicks:

Beaver… *teeheehee*

So we were in the bathroom at the Jackson mall, and it was disgusting.
Jackson is a dirty dirty place. Not as dirty as Hickman, KY. Jelly. Not as pretty as Nashville.
Anywho, as I was tinkling, I looked down and saw a withered frenchfry.

Then some large women came in, and Zephyr and I stayed in there for a bit to listen to their conversation.
One informed the rest that she was “strugglin’.” We left then, to avoid laughing too loudly and embarrassing them.
Everybody struggles sometimes. Except me. I’m like lightnin’, baby. Like when I poop.
It seriously takes me a minute or less to poop. I’m a fast pooper. Most of the time, I pee longer than I poop.
It’s crazy. So I can poop at anyone’s house and they won’t know it. I probably have pooped at your house, because I poop twice a day.
Sometimes thrice; it depends on what I’ve eaten.

Matt’s a fast pooper, too. That’s why we fell in love.
That’s the only reason. I think he said something about writing a book about our fast pooping relationship.
Like, everything in our relationship will be based on pooping quickly in this book.
Quick poopin’ skills. We can go to dinner parties and poop together, and nobody would know.
They would probably think we left for a quickie. But no, quite the opposite.
No, the opposite of a quickie is a longie.
When I say quickie, I mean it in the sexual way. Not in the poopin’ way.
But no, we’d actually be going to poop.
Then when we came back 2- 3 minutes later (depends on the size of the house), they would be like,
“Oh, they didn’t have sex, they just peed or had a short talk.” But little did they know, we pooped.
We probably had a short talk, too. Depends on how close the toilets were to each other.
I think married people’s bathrooms should have 2 toilets in them.
Because isn’t it a special thing when two people are pooping at the same time?
Especially when they’re phone poopin’.
“Hey guess what I’m doing?”
“Masturbating?”
“No! I’m pooping!”
“OMG, Me too!”
“OMG! This is crazy!”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too, Little Bear.”

Just for the record, Little Bear is what Steve calls Holly. Gah, my friends are so weird.

But when I went to Matt’s house, I pooped like, 4 times.
And I think when he was over here I only pooped a couple times. I was nervous the first time he was over here.
It’s just hard for some people to poop away from home. I guess 4 times poopin’ in one week is pretty healthy.
My mom would kill to poop 4 times in one week. Sometimes when I go somewhere, I poop more than usual.
Like when I stay with Aunt Reenie in Omaha, I poop alot. Not alot of poop, just more often.

I think I’m finished talking about poopin’.

Oh, no I’m not. I meant to put this up where I was talking about Matthew’s poopin’ habits.
Once, before we were dating, we were talking online, and he said, “I’m going to the bathroom and I’m going to take you with me.”
When he said “going to the bathroom,” I didn’t know if he meant relieving himself or just oging to do other bathroom activities.
And if he meant relieving himself, was he pooping or peeing? But then I found out he was pooping,
because he said that the computer was too hot and it was burning his legs.
Then he said, “okay, I’m back,” and that’s how I found out he was a fast pooper, too.
That’s when I knew I loved him.

Not really, but wouldn’t that be a good falling in love story?
I won’t tell the real story to you folks in blogform… it will take away from my hxc image, don’t you think?

But that is when we decided to write the pooping romance book.
Get it, but, butt?

Bird?

You can’t hide ordinary.

So tonight I hung out with Jade. We had sex.

And by sex, I mean conversation and cake.

I wrote on her wall with a permenant marker. She invited me to. This is what I wrote:

That’s an inside joke between me and Jade. You don’t get it. But I bet you still think it’s funny.

All of my friends are so much hotter than I am. I mean most of my friends.
Jade and Zephyr are. Holly is. Probably more are.

Jade made me a dress out of crepe paper. Next weekend, we’re going to make each other dresses out of crepe paper and wear them out on the town.
To Applebee’s. That’s where The Ross works.

We played with green “Travel PlayDough.” It doesn’t stick. She made and elephant.
I made a penis. Naturally.

I started to make an uncircumcised one, because it would be funny, but it was too -hard-, because I’ve never seen one in real life.
On an adult. I’ve seen plenty on babies. Usually one per baby. Usually on the boys though.

Are you a character from a romantic poem?

Somehow the other night, Matt thought that I said something about if we have children,
I wouldn’t want the boys to be circumcised. That’s crazy. I would never say that.
Like I said, I’ve never seen an uncircumcised peepee on a big boy, but the pictures scared me.
They kind of look like egg rolls. Except gross.
So now whenever I eat egg rolls, I think about uncircumcised peepees. I usually just think about the circumcised ones.
One. Just not when I’m eating Chinese. Except that time I ate Chinese with Matt on Steve’s couchbedcouch.

When my friends and I get together, we lick things. They’re usually sexual. Like the above beaver.

When I finished playing with my Play Dough penis, I threw it at Jade. She then bit part of it off.
I would post that picture, but I’m afraid it is too graphic. So I’ll post this one instead:

Remember when the boys used to do stuff like this in the 5th grade? Yeah.

While we’re on the subject, Hog had sex. With her boyfriend.

But then we went downstairs and ate a cake right off the platter. With forks.
We fed each other. It was romantic. Then she shoved a banana in my mouth.
Then we found this stuff that her mom bought, and we found it hilarious:

Bunny Corn! Isn’t it funny? It’s alot funnier when you say it like someone from Rutherford, TN.
“Bunneh Coan.” It sounds like what people would call rabbit poop. We threw some on the floor.
“Look at all that bunneh coan on the flo’. Looks like some bunnehs been through here.”
“Hey daddeh! Daddeh! You wont some bunneh coan?”
(Notice the price on the bag) “What’s the price uh this coan?”

I love this picture. She has Bunny Corn at her nipples… but you can’t see it, so it just looks like she’s tweaking them.
She has to tweak her own nipples. She doesn’t have her own private nipple tweaker like I do…
: )

So the funniest thing happened at the grocery store. I was buying things to make cookies,
and I saw a girl and her mom in line in front of me. This girl was about 12 or 13, and she was dressed like a slut.
Short shorts, lots of makeup. This caught my attention, because when I was that age, I was the same way.
Kind of like that girl in CATS. To go to the grocery store. I noticed that her mom had a box of Monistat.
No big deal. Most women will have a yeast infection at some point in her life… it could have been the mom,
it could have been the daughter. But I just found it funny that the only two items they were buying were cheese and Monistat.
Cheese. And Monistat. That’s funny in itself. But like any preteen girl would be
, the daughter was mortified that her mom was buying this, especially with the young blonde cashier, Lance.
Lance used to stalk Jessica Jones, by the way. So the daughter made the mom buy the Monistat
and walk out of the store before the girl bought the cheese seperately and walked out of the store.
I found this hilarious, because I would have done the same thing at that age.
When I worked at Jillian’s, before I got FIRED, I bought Jill a pregnancy test at that same grocery store.
That’s pretty f’ed up if you axe me, but I wasn’t embarrassed. Bradley Hutchinson helped me find it.
That was a hoot. I just thought it was funny that out of all those women who worked there,
they make the seventeen year old high school girl get it.

I wish when Holly Tittle fired me, she would have done the Donald Trump thing and said,
“You’re Fired!” instead of crossing her arms and saying, “I just think it’s best that you are no longer employed here.”
Then I would have laughed instead of cried. Well, I still would have cried, just not as much.
And I would have laughed while crying. Like Jessica Jones.

But just for the record, while we’re talking about yeast infections
(a couple paragraphs ago), this is NOT the correct way to get rid of a yeast infection:

That’s Jade’s dad’s pellet gun. That’s my vag. ina. Dan.

I just wrote Dan’s name there, because he doesn’t like it when I say “vag.” Neither does Alley Jo,
but the reason I wrote Dan’s name was because when I write a new blog, he does Ctrl F and types in his name.
If it doesn’t come up, he only reads the first paragraph or two of the blog. Or so he says.
But seriously, who could resist my bloggy deliciousness?

So in conclusion, Leah useta be bad, ’til her mama done be knowin’ what she been doin’.
Now she good.