Monday Bear

So I understand that most people don’t really like pooping at work. On the contrary, when I had a job, I loved pooping at work, because, seriously, where else can you get paid to poop?

But I think it helped that -I- was the one who bought the TP most of the time, and I never bought that John Wayne toilet paper that’s rough, tough, and won’t take shit from anyone.

I forgot to write a few weeks ago when I got a postcard from my SOA (or should I say, SOB) from CUSTOMS/ Freshman Orientation. In wretched handwriting and red marker ink, it reads:

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So I was just down to my skivvies, shimmying my way to cardio health, when my mom’s friend comes in. Just as I was beginning to really enjoy my new Cardio Fitness Bellydancing DVD, I’m interrupted by an unwelcome guest. And what does she say? “Put some clothes on, girl!” Right. I’ll put some clothes on if you wash the dishes. Then she has the huevos to make fun of my choice of fitness. Hey, fatso, at least I exercise. Competitive hotdog eating doesn’t count as a sport, by the way.

So if any of you haven’t realized, when I disappear for a week at a time, I’m usually with Matt. It’s that damn love and cuddling and sex and blackhead- picking that keeps me away from my blogging. And I thank all of you who sents me birfday wishes/ presents. I’ll get back to you soon. ish. And you’ll all be bloglisted. Soon. Not tonight. But soon. (more…)

So I’m babysitting right now. Four of them. My usual three, plus a 5 year old smartass. I finally got them to lie down. I put on Harry Potter and put two of them in time out. It’s been a really rough day for all of us, obviously.

I hate it when people say “needless to say”. If it’s needless to say, then why say it?
People always said “needless to say” in those Most Embarrassing Moments things in Seventeen Magazine. Remember?

I also hate it when people say “I could care less.” It really should be “I couldn’t care less.” Because if you could care less, then you actually do care a little bit.

Really, I just wish that people would think about what their expressions mean before speaking them. (more…)

So I just got back from my grandparents’ house in Mississippi. Whenever we went out in public, to everyone we came across, my grandmother would say, “This is my granddaughter. She come to visit us from Tennessee.”
“Great. We have more trees,” said the guy from the grocery store, who according to Gramma, couldn’t take his eyes off of me.
That made their… year, probably. Nobody ever comes to see them, which is precisely why I drove the 180 miles to go there. I got a big ego boost while I was there. Grandparents are always proud of their grandchildren. Especially when they live in Saltillo, MS. I’m going to college, haven’t been knocked up, I’m not on drugs, and I’m not fat.
That’s why Gramma kept saying that guys were looking at me. I doubt they were. I’m not attractive when I’m in Mississippi. Nobody is. The grocery store dude could have been looking at me for several reasons: (more…)

So Kathryn’s in the kitchen right now cookin’ me some breffis.  She knows a woman’s place.

Really and truly, I haven’t seen this little lady in over a year, and the perfect situation arose (or should I say, aroused) for us to hang out.  And so we did.  With Valerie.  And her widdle boobs.  Watching late night Oxygen.  Trashy “romance” stories (AKA, really bad softcore pr0n).  ‘Twas a night to remember.

GOOOOAAALLLLL! (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.

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So Matthew came over and suprised me. It was quite the adventure. He stayed for a few days, but left the day that my mom was coming home. What a coincidence. Anwyho, he’s still the best in the world.
You know how men are with their cars. You also know that I’m not dating a “man,” per se. (He’s better.) Matt was talking about some car, the Tesla, about how awesome it is, yeah yeah yeah, it’s pretty, it’s electric, it saves the environment, Liz hugs trees, yeah yeah yeah. Since Matthew isn’t really the car kind of guy, I figured this must be one hell of a car since he’s going on about it. I decided to do my own research:
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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.

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So the results are in… MondayBear.com is the third most popular site on the interweb, right after pr0n.com and DrPhil.com.

I’m telling you though, I’d get so many more hits if it was NakedLiz.com instead of Monday Bear… but who can resist that cute little fuzzy bear face?

So I’ve been really stressed out for the past week. I wish I would go ahead and start my period, just so I could stop this PMS mess.

Way to start out on a gross note, Liz.
While I’m at it, Matthew and Justin raised this question:
Does a Monday Bear shit in the woods? (more…)

So here I go, here I go, here I go, I said girls, what’s my weakness?

That’s the part where my mom usually says “Men!” and I say, “Okay, then. Chillin’, chillin’, mindin’ my bidness…”

etc, etc, etc.

Yes, my mom.

Let’s talk about myspace and facebook. This is somewhat an extention of yesterday’s blog. Let’s talk about girls’ photos on myspace and facebook. (more…)