So I just woke up from this dream where there were several kitties asleep in a box. They were all about 5 inches long, and I was the same size, sleeping with them.
So when the Chili Peppers came to Nashville, I got to go. I also got to go backstage.
Man, anytime I’m going to blog, I’ve got to poop.
“How you gonna make somethin’, and then it’s gonna burn?”
- Mary
So one of my friends, who just happened to be a lady of colour, told me why alot of black girls don’t like me. It’s because black guys like me. Black guys like me because:
a.) I have red hair, and
b.) I’m shaped like a skinny black girl.
She says they don’t like me because we’re stealing their men and whatnot. That’s kind of a gay reason not to like someone, but I suppose it’s kind of like how it kind of bothers me when Matt says things about other girls, unless the other girl is my friend.
Kind of.
So I had this dream a long time ago, probably the day after I last blogged. I’ve had many a lesbonic dream in my day, but this one wasn’t even sexual. This woman asked me to marry her. She wasn’t an ugly dyke or anything, but just very lesbonic. Kind of like me a year ago. Except I didn’t like girls. And I still don’t.
But at any rate, this chick proposed to me, and of course I said no, because:
So I’ve concluded that the last blog sucked and I will never ever EVER do that again. I just wanted to see what would happen if I blogged a semi- serious blog, and you know what happens? I get one comment. One measley comment. From Zephyr.
Did anyone notice that I started my blog with a similar phrase to that with which I usually end my blog?
Did anyone notice that that was worded totally weird for the sake of not ending a sentence with a preposition? (more…)
So after discovering that I’m a bird, lion, bunny, and a Canadian, I’ve decided to grow a fur coat. Actually, I just haven’t shaved my legs in two weeks. I’ll do it tomorrow. Maybe.
Speaking of fur coat, mom and I went shopping for things for my dorm room last night. We had about 5 different rugs on the floor of Target, stepping on them barefoot to see how each of them felt. There was this one that was really really furry, like a bear rug.
Liz: I don’t like this one. It feels creepy.
Mom: Yeah, it’s like walking on Matt’s back.
: ( Now that’s hitting below the belt. So I smacked her with my bag. (more…)
So I had the craziest dream last night. There was this huuuge party– Matt was there, his Mama was there, some big huge black guy was there, Cactus was there, and then a bunch of other people were there. We were doing lots of drugs, booze, and sexin’. Well just two of us were sexin’. (Me and Matt, FYI). But then the cops came, so the black guy took all of our drugs and put them atop this flag pole, so the cops couldn’t find them. Then, to cause a distraction, I threw my fancy bracelet on the tile floor. It broke into a million pieces, and then Mama started yelling at me and calling me stupid. Then the cop partied with us. He didn’t do any drugs, he just boozed.
So do you like my new banner? Matthew did it for me. He’s a genius. Click on the “Monday Bear”. (more…)
So I must admit, when I come to mondaybear.com and click on Site Admin, I get quite a rush. A power rush. Like the kind of power rush I get when I tell small children to go into the kitchen and make me a sammidge.
So I had the craziest dream about Monday Bear. Most of you know how difficult it is for me to differentiate between dreams and reality. Here’s an old story from way back:
Jade and I had been planning to go to NYC, and we planned on seeing Spamalot while we were there. Welp, I had a dream that my mom bought us tickets to see it. I woke up, not realizing that it was just a dream, so I went to school telling everyone that I had the best mum in the world, because she had bought us tickets to see Spamalot. (It should have been a dead givaway that she didn’t really buy them for us when I remembered that they were just $4 each.) When I came home, I gave my mom a big ass hug (not a big “ass hug”, but a big ass hug), and she asked me why I was being so nice. Welp, when I told her, she informed me that she didn’t do such a thing, and that it must have been a dream. Alas.
So I promise, with you all as my witnesses, that no matter how fat I get, I will always wear pants that are my size, even if I have to wear a size 48. And that’s big. I will never, ever, ever have muffin top. I swear to you.
Now, you don’t have to be fat to have muffin top. I’ve seen plenty of girls smaller than me with it. You just have to wear pants that actually fit you. I know it sucks to have to walk out of a store carrying the biggest size avaliable, but hear you me, you’re carrying those pants in a bag. Nobody else at the mall knows what size you wear except you and the checkout chick.
So I’m nekkid in someone else’s house at the moment.� Matt’s house.� Well, Matt’s mom’s house.� It would be different if it were just Matt’s house, but no, I’m naked in the home of his mom, his stepdad, Colleen, and him.
Well, I’m actually wearing underpants, because I was looking at this website about this nudist colony that I was thinking about visiting, and I was reading the rules, and one said that towels had to be used at all times when sitting.
How embarrassing.
I think at certain times, we should ignore the fact that we leak fluids.� At certain times, we should ignore the fact that we have genitalia.� But most of the time, we should embrace our genitalia.� Not nessecarily by showing it to strangers on the street, talking to our grandparents about it, or, say, piercing it, but just being comfortable with the fact that girls have jineys and boys have peni.
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.