Monday Bear

So this morning, Matt farted on the cat. He said go over there and sniff the cat, and see if it stinks. (more…)

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…)

So do I really look like a rabid bunny when I laugh?

So. Bunnies are cute. and fluffy. much like myself. and those Matt dogs.

I would like to thank Melanie Holis for making me not look like Cinderella Barbie. For dress rehearsal, my skirt was some kind of purpley blue lame’ irridescent BULLSHIT. I looked like a 4 year old playing dress up. I’m serious, I had Barbie clothes made out of that same material. But Melanie so graciously stayed up into the wee hours of the morning and made me a whole new costume. Ah, Melanie. (more…)

Whatever you do, -DO NOT- smell the crotch of Michele’s unitard.  Her name is spelled with one L.  And an E.  It’s like Micheal, but feminine.  Welp… he… you know.

Papa just called me.  I talked to him for almost an hour the other day when Matt was here.  He cracks me up:

“Georgia might be coming down here in a couple weeks… or she says so.  You can never trust them mountain people.  They always lie to you.”

I almost died within the past few days.  You ladies should know how this is.  It isn’t really menstrual, but just femanine.  You have a bad couple days and then something itty bitty happens, and BAM.  You FREAK THE FUCK OUT.  That’s what I did.  I’m talking crying, shaking, bitching, etc.  “I need to be sedated!  Somebody fucking sedate me!  Now!”  (please, no cheesey Ramones jokes here.  Save them for when I get my teenage labotomy).  I needed drugs.  All I had was a sedative that was prescribed to me about a year ago, so I took three.  I didn’t feel much better.

And Caitlin, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.  I just really don’t like to be touched sometimes whenever I’m freaking out.  I was thinking about that, and it would have upset me if someone did that to me.

We’re having a Monkey Mama Party at my dad’s house sometime soon to initiate Caitlin, Rachel, and Kaylie.  Other Caitlin, Sarah, and Brenda, your time will come.  We haven’t had MMFP in about 2 years.  More than that.  Closer to three.  Sure, we may have grown up a bit, but geez, can’t we still do bizarre hazing rituals to our friends?

Speaking of rituals, it’s confirmed that Steve and Holly do -not-, I repeat, do NOT do the Swahili thing.  I was wrong, you were right.

Matthew came over this weekend.  Fun times were had by all.  Especially him and me.  But also Steve, Holly, mum, etc.  Oh, and The Ross.  The Ross used to work at Olive Garden in Memphis (or Memphrica, as the “emo” boys with badly bleached hair and big butts say).  Can you believe that?  I wonder if his penis ever hit anybody in the monocle.

Matt kind of fixed my computer and he kind of fixed my potty.  He just doesn’t like noises.  I forgot to give him that cardboard.  Whoops.  He’ll have to come back and get it.  And by it, I mean cardboard.  Perverts.

When Steve gets sleepy, he becomes insanely weird.  Not cracker weird, I’m talking Liz and Holly weird.  Holly was trying to make Matt talk by saying singular words and making Matt tell a story having to do with the word.  This was going well, and Holly said, “Pickle.”  Matt began, but Steve interrupted with, “When your art attacks you… Run with it.”  We looked at him confusedly.  He continued, “You know, when you’re painting and your canvas falls on you.”  We told him to wait his turn and not to confuse the poor boy.  Matthew told a story about this kid in one of his classes snorting pickle juice, and then Steve continued with, “When your art attacks you.”  After we had a good laugh about that, he explained, “Maybe I was snorting the wrong pickle.”

Despite what Holly and Steve think, Matt does indeed like them.  They gave us something to laugh about.

Then Holly and her HUGE House Party 3 shirt.

You know, sometimes -you- talk about the same thing over and over and over.  That gets boring.  It wouldn’t be so bad if you talked about the same thing a little bit and said other things, or nothing at all even, but you talk more than you breathe, and you breathe your singular topic.  It didn’t used to be that way.

And -you-.  Give it a rest.  I’m just not interested.  You’re like an overly persistant telemarketer/ door-to-door salesperson.  I can’t stand it.  Just stop.  It won’t happen.  Especially not now.

I am really really happy.  I know, I’m always happy, but… I’m such a girl.  I can’t help it.  We’ve already had our first child.  Jethro.  You saw him in a below blog.

I apologize for not blogging lately.  It’s just that Matthew was in, and I like him more than I like blogging for you assholes.  But don’t you worry your pretty little heads… there -will- be more semi- erotic fictional short stories to come.  (Get it?)  And you’ll actually be allowed to read some of them.

By the way, Yes, I educated the younguns.  But hell, think about when you were their age.  Think about what you talked about with your friends.  Emily and I talked about that stuff in like, 7th grade.  Anywho, they didn’t judge me, and if they didn’t judge me, I -certainly- don’t expect my friends to judge me, even if they are much older than I.  Once again, you and I both know what you did when you were my age.

Sometimes having friends older than I am sucks.  I only need one set of parents.  I’m good after that, I promise.

Everyone, come to CATS.  I know T.S. Eliot was an idiot, but it’s going to kick ass.  I mean, the $15 is worth just seeing me in a unitard.

Beth fucking sucks, and everyone thinks so.  She shows up late, sometimes doesn’t even dance, and nobody says anything to her.  She’s not the fucking star.  Did you see what she did after dress rehearsal?  Yeah, real cute.  I did that in the 7th grade.  And it wasn’t after a dress rehearsal with an audience.

Did you know that grapefruit can get your pregnant?  That’s right.  It’s not just semen that carries that virus.

I would tell a really horrible joke here, but I won’t for fear of burning.  I’ll let Mark or Matthew say it.

Mrs. Dollie told me to use “rubbers”.  And yes, she meant condoms.  She’s 86.

Mrs. Macintosh told me that my grandmother was sleeping with her son- in- law.  Then she said that an RN was and called her a “two- bit- whore.”  We then put her to bed.

I feel goofy in my tummy.  That’s not pregnancy, that’s luuuuurve.

So in conclusion, those girls at the show were -sooo- last season Liz.

So we were in Fizzicks class:Holly:  My stomach hurts/
Liz:  Are you on teh ragz0rz?

You can’t make this stuff up.  Sorry about the last blog… It was a bit purged… but Trevor Smith did say a little somethin’ somethin’ about it.

I’m impressed with Emily’s blogging skills.  She learned from the breast.

That was a joke… because she has big boobs… get it…?  Like “oh my gah, somebody killed my parents… get it…?”

I don’t know if I blogged about this or not, but there’s more to it.  John, Steve’s ex- friend, with whom he and Holly tried to hook me up, is causing drama.  Obviously, nothing ever came of it, because he was an ass the day before he left.  It doesn’t bother me at all… I’ve moved way way way on, but it bother’s Holly and Steve.  Here’s what Holly wrote to me in Highschool note form:

Nevermind, I can’t find it.  But Steve started arguing about me, and he said, “Liz is an amazing lady, and there’s no way in hell you’re going to get another chance like that.” (among other things.)  Holly added that last part.

I wonder if Steve still uses that same tube of toothpaste.  Probably not.  He’s the type of guy who brushes his teeth 30 times a day and showers after every meal.  He still has my plate from when I gave him those hashbrownies.  Pansyboy.

So I had some help picking out Matt Callis’s birthday card.  I got him a Hello Kitty one with pink sparkley tattoos in it.  He and his mom loved it.  It was loved.  But anywho, I was trying to decided which one to get, but Jared said, “Wouldn’t you rather get a card with pink sparkley tattoos?”  I suppose I would.  I mean, fake tattoos are teh r0×0rz.  (not teh ragz0rz.)  But anywho, I was concerned about the pinkness and sparkleyness of them, but Jared said, “Liz, don’t take this the wrong way, but your kind of guy would love to get pink sparkley tattoos in the mail.”

welcome to the space jam, alright alright.

Yeah, you forgot that song existed, didn’t you?  I’m listening to it right now.  No, seriously.

And the other day, I listened to my Jordan Knight CD.  He was sooo dreaaaamy…

My cat is asleep on my sheetless bed, but he’s just too damn cute to kick off.

I love you.  NO NO NO, I LOVE YOU MORE!

That was dedicated to Dan.  I haven’t talked to you in a while, little fella.

Liz:  Dan used to play Lacrosse.
Matt:  More like Gaycrosse.

“Hi, Shhhh….ake my hand.”

It doesn’t work as well in text.  Somethings work better in text, but most don’t.  Like this:

Tupac could have lived if he had more Shakur- ity.

Biggie Smalz could have lived if he had more SECURITY… Get it?  Like if he had more people around him, he wouldn’t have gotten shot?

Make a wish.  It’s 3:33.

Sonny Bono could have lived if he had more Cher- curity.  Mark actually laughed at that one.  I’m funny!  I’m really funny!

Matt is coming to UC tomorrow.  He’s staying until question mark.  My couch has held many people in its lifetime.  It’s about time for a new damn couch.  But anywho, I’m excited.  Saturday, we are couchbedcouching at Steve and Holly’s.  This includes Chinese Takeout (for everyone but Holly… She get’s a Happy Meal) and coffee (for everyone but Holly and Matt.  They get something else).  They can have some of my Girl Scout coffee cookies though.  Yes, folks, that’s right.  I finally got my damned Girl Scout cookies in.  And Scrabbling will be had.  I beat Steve the English major at Scrabble.  I couldn’t walk straight, but gosh darnit, I could spell.

I won with the word “Labia.”  You’ve already heard/ read this story.

Yessirree, I can’t wait for some of my Steve’s- Appartment- Famous Coffee.

Mom:  I need to go get my headlights checked out.
Liz:  But you just had a mammogram last month.

That’s almost as good as the “leaky pie.”

Mrs. McCallister (yes, still alive) made me very upset today.  Yesterday, she was doing relatively well, but today, she was worse than ever.  She was shaking like mad, and she was bloated, and we could hardley understand anything she was saying.  All we heard was, “I don’t want to die.”
I can’t work in a nursing home.  I love old people, and I get so attached to them, and we develop such strong relationships that when they die, I can’t handle it.  I’m expecting Mrs. McCallister to “expire” any day now, but I’ll still be horribly upset.

We asked one of the nurses what happened to Mrs. Gladys, and she said, “She expired.”  She’s a human, not a fucking carton of milk.  She died.  She’s dead.  She didn’t expire, she didn’t pass away, she didn’t move on.  She died.

I hate euphamisms.

Also, I’m not as into Pink Floyd as I used to be.  And you know what?

I HATE METALLICA.

There.  I know I’ll get my ass kicked at the next show I go to, but still.  They’re so cheesexcore.  I just really hate Metallica.  There has never been a Metallica song that I have even remotely liked.

I should write a song about it and get together with Screetching Weasel.  They hate Led Zepplin, I hate Metallica… it’s a beautiful thang.  We could make an album.  We could team up with Rancid and NoFX, and they could play I Hate Pink Floyd and I Hate… Poison, respectively.

‘You can’t be an appreciator of rock music and hate Metallica, Liz.’

Like hell I can’t.  Bitches.

Oh, but Placebo has just put me in a great mood.

So in conclusion, I have this friend who is kind of like Virgin Mary but not.

This weekend was very Kentucky-y.  Hickmon Friday, Mayfield Saturday.

Kentucky is an ugly place.

Nashville is a pretty place.

I went all over freaking Kentucky and didn’t even hit up Paducah.  I went to Kentucky with Steve and Holly and didn’t even hit Paducah!  But last time we went was a disaster.

“My pleasure.”

What a horrible weekend that was.  We told Davo about it last night, and he will never let me live that down.  Ever.

Neither will Holly and Steve.  When I die, they will pin a note up on the lid of my casket:
John Was In A Horrible Mood The Next Day!  What An Ass!

I downloaded some James Blunt songs a few months ago, and I just noticed… In my player, under Genre, it says “Alternative & Punk.”  I changed it to “White.”

So I’ve been practicing my silly walks.  I’ve been lax on my Ministry of Silly Walks lately.  Like, for the past week.  But my adoring fans will be happy to know that I have a new walk.

I am the least funny person ever.  I mean, my blogs are funny, and I say funny things, but the only funny things I say are only funny because they are things that everyone knows but no one states.  Or I’m cute funny.  But besides that, I never say anything funny.  Ever.

My mom is in love.  Rob is in love.  They love each other.  They love me.  I love them.  Love love love.  I hope they get married soon.  I wish Rob was my dad.

Don’t get me wrong… I love my dad, but Rob is amazing.  He cares about me so much.  He says he would do anything for his Lizzie May.  No, May is not my middle name… but he calls me that.

We have these shirts that say OCCHS.  And they have “Seniors” on the back.  Brad wore his to the nursing home with me one day.  Mrs. McCallister pointed at it and said, “DCCHS.”  We said, “No, that’s OCCHS.”  She didn’t get it.  She continued, “Dixie County City High School.”  She then looks at Sarah, “Did you go to Dixie?” Sarah nods and replies, “Yes, ma’am, I went to Dixie.”  She asks Brad, “What grade are you in?” and we kept saying, “Twelveth, Seniors,” etc etc etc, but she wasn’t getting any of it (she’s blind).  He turned around and pointed to the “Seniors” text on his back.  She ran her finger across it and read, “Sandwiches… that’s good,” and started clapping.  Crazy old Mrs. McCallister.

Mrs. Ladd just wants her snuff.

Davo played an awesome show last night.  I was proud of him.

So many people have said I’m a bit preoccupied lately.  Am I?  I think I am.  It isn’t anything personal.  Well, to most of you, it isn’t.

I don’t like to hurt people’s feelings, but bloody hell… you know?

“I hate kids.  They always have jelly on their hands.  Even if there isn’t any jelly in the house, they have jelly on their hands.  Always.”
- Alley Jo.

Men and babies are pretty much the same thing.  All they do is eat, sleep, poop, and have sex.  Except babies don’t have sex.

I’m not much of a drinker, but sometimes I need a good stiff one– and by “one”, I mean “drink”.  Pervert.

A One that is not cold is hardly a One at all.

So in conclusion, Steve doesn’t like it when people end papers like this.  I don’t either, but this isn’t a damn paper.

Currently Wearing:  Tube socks, tap shoes, and a pea coat.  Still.

So.  Here’s your typical blog.  I need a big ass fucking hug.  These are the bad things that happened today:

A.  I woke up this morning with 15 minutes to get ready, because I was up until 2AM blogging for you assholes.

B.  I forgot that the interns were having pictures today, so I naturally forgot my red scrubs.  You know what I was wearing?  Jeans, a Jillian’s shirt (oh, the irony), no makeup, and pigtails.  What kind of self- respecting Pre- Med major wears pigtails?

C.  I made an 88 on an English test.  And I’m good at English.

D.  I got fired.

That’s right.  Fired.  I’ve been working there for a year and a half.  Fired.  I know she didn’t really want to, but for some reason, it had to be done.

But anywho, the good things that happened today:

A.  My hair is finally long enough to go into pigtails.

B.  Ian told me I had a nice rack.

C.  I got the Presidential Scholarship (I knew it was something good before I opened it, because it was in fancy paper envelope).

D.  I got sympathy hugs.

E.  Kaylie, Emily, and Michelle noticed I’m losing weight.  I think someone else did, too.

Oh, another bad thing:  Mrs. McCallister is dying, quickly.  I know she’s nintey- two, and it’s time, but still… I love her.

Remember, she’s the old lesbian.

She Wants Revenge, Exit/In.  Ooooh yeah : )  Feb. 28.

So I bought 2 new CDs the other day.  Just a couple days before I got fired.  How convenient.

I would kill for a hamburger.  Too bad I don’t know how to make one.  Also, too bad I can’t afford to buy one.

I missed the Detatchable Penis song until I heard it just now.

Oh yeah, the CDs.  I got Panic! At the Disco and She Wants Revenge.  I was highly impressed with Panic! At the Disco.  I listen to it constantly.  Except now.  Now I’m listening to Dexy’s Midnight Runners.

Would you rather belt out the chorus of Come On Eileen every time you orgasm, or reach climax everytime you hear the word “pancake”?
Things to consider:  IHOP, family brunches, karaoke.

Panic! At the Disco’s lyrics are so… fab.  Let me give you a sample:

Isn’t this precisely where you’d like me
You know, Prayng for love in a lapdance and paying in naivety?
But I’m afraid that I, well I may have faked.
I wouldn’t be caught dead in this place.

That’s just a little somethin’ somethin’ that stuck out to me.  But anywho, the whole CD is very catchy.

She Wants Revenge… the best song on the album is Tear You Apart, their single, but I’m still not disappointed.

Is it wrong that that song gets me hot?

oh, yeah, davo wanted me to blog this so he could be (in)famous:

Miss Lizzie says:

.

Boys are guhross.

But then again, I’m about to blog about the first time I used a tampon… and not the Misfits kind, either.

I was 11 or 12… probably 12.  I was in Nashville with Mrs. Helen, and I was hanging out with her daughter, Paige.  We were going to Nashville Shores in Hermitage, but I was on the rag, so I got Paige to give me one of her teeny tiny little ones.

I was in the bathroom for close to an hour.

To this day, that was the most difficult task I’ve ever completed.

I’m not going to be gross anymore.

Placenta.

I’m a liar.

Speaking of, Murfreesboro is -totally- on the way to Memphis.  But usually, I take the shortcut through Toronto.  Then Florida.  -Then- Murfreesboro.  Sometimes I’ll cut through Austin, Texas before getting all the way to Memphis, though.

Only the interns really get that, but it should still be funny to everyone else.

Actually, I’m kind of glad I don’t have a jorb now.  I need to focus on fun.

Focus On Fun.  Sounds like an after school program for poor kids.  My brother was a poor kid.  I was kind of a poor kid, but not as much as my brother was.

My mummy just came home.  She’s so happy : )

But I just can’t stop thinking about that milk porno.

“It’s your turn, Miss Housekeeper!”

So I’m in the tailmaking business now.  Michelle and I are.  And Sarah.  And Rachel.

So in conclusion, come see CATS!  It’s CAT-tastic!

And guess who doesn’t have to go to work tomorrow… : )

More! More! More!

Remember ages ago when I asked you for a tortilla?� Tony was the only one to send me one.� Thanks, assholes.� Thanks alot.

Dammit, Janet, I love you.

I really would like to see that live.� I hope Jade and I can find a cheap theatre in the Village where we can see it.� Dustyn wants to see it, too.� Davo was going to be Rocky for Halloween… I don’t know if he ended up doing it or not.� I think he just wanted to wear a speedo in front of people.

Camille gave me a good idea for a Halloween costume, but I don’t think even I would do it:� the Coppertone baby.� Get a nude coloured unitard and some blue briefs, and attach a dog to your ass.� Cute, but geez, why not just go naked except for the briefs?� Really now?

Speaking of unitard, JR painted me last night.� It looks really nice.� I’m pleased.� If anyone would like to see, just ask, I have pictures.� Or just come to the performances.� Cats, if you’re an idiot who has no idea what’s going on in my life.� Asshole.

High School Time:

Everyone is bugging me about prom.� They all want me to go.� I, on the other hand, could give a rat’s ass about prom.� I give the excuse that I wouldn’t have anyone with whom to go, and it really is the truth.�� I know I’ve already blogged this, but geez, it’s just too funny:

Liz:� Prom is short for promenade, and I certainly can’t promenade by myself.
Hog:� Psht!� Prom is short for prom-a-night!

Hahah, she’s so excited.� She’s going to have sex with her boyfriend.� Beth gave her a tube of Vasoplex as a joke, and Hog and her boyfriend used it, and she had to go to the emergency room because it burned so bad.

That’s not the reason why she had to go to the emergency room, but it would have been funny.

The real reason she went to the emergency room was because she got a mascara wand stuck in her ear.� True story.� No, seriously.� That’s really why she went.

I’ve had so much about which to blog, but I never can remember once I get in front of the computer.� Before I forget, Steve is getting published!� Holly and I jumped and squealed like little girls when we found out.� Oh wait…

Speaking of squealing, Dustyn is coming down/up/over here the weekend of the 10th.� Fun times will be had by all.

“You have a sexy pancreas”
“You have a sexy sphincter”
“You have sexy cerebral juices”
“You have a sexy pleural sac”

It goes on and on and on.

Everybody hates a tourist.

Today in fizzicks, we talked about friction.� With Mrs. Cres, friction is funny in itself.� I mean, if you’re a rapper, friction = sex.

But today, we talked about bare friction as compared to friction with a lubricant.� And rubbing up against each other.� And shafts.� And pleasing.� Orally.

Once I was doing a lab with Mark, Steve McGee, and Davey, the three most ridiculously dirty guys ever.� Mrs. Cres came over to help us with something, and she said “shaft…erect…balls…hit…hump…shaft…grind…lubricant…sack…” ALL in the same sentance.� Of course, I had my head turned to the wall, crying in my laughter.� All three of the dudes had a straight face.� I must be 13.

But one time at the beginning of the year, I wasn’t listening to anything she was saying… I was seriously thinking about some boy or something, and I was smiling of course, and she said, “Look at Liz, she’s thinking dirty!”� I may or may not have been, but if it was, it wasn’t a result of something she said.� After class, I asked her what she had been talking about, and she said something about dropping her balls, and she thought it was hilarious.

Of course dropping your balls is funny until it doesn’t happen to you.� That’s what happened to my Jack Russell, Pokey.� We named him Pokey because he humped everything.� I didn’t think animals humped until they grew balls.� I thought wrong.� He got run over.��So did his brother, Giblet.� I named both of them, obviously.

Zephyr’s fizzicks teacher drew a “personal massager” on the board once.� It was supposed to be a bullet…of… something or other.

I’ve blogged that already, but like earlier noted, it’s just too damn funny.

I said the F word so many times today.� Hog and I say the F word to each other too much.

“Shut the F up, Hog!”
“F you, Snodgrass!”

I think it’s funny when the interns call me by my last name.� It’s just not a last name by which one would call someone.� I should make them call me Smitty.� Or just go back to Copperhead.� Copperhead just seemed a little dykish.� Shut up, Daniel Ryan.

stfu.

The people at the nursing home really pissed me off.� They just don’t care about the residents.� If I could, I would take Mrs. Dollie, Mrs. Georgia, Mrs. McCallister, and all of the other ones and take them home with me so they wouldn’t have to stay in that shithole.� I would hate it there.� I want to die when I can’t wipe my own ass.� It would be so degrating to be in that position.� My mom isn’t going into a nursing home.� She already told me she wants to be in a retirement home.� She thinks it would be fun.� Okay…

I love Rocky Horror : )

I love it I love it I love it I love it *kicks the air*

Ashley is afraid of the Mormon boys who come into the library.� I think that’s funny.� She thinks that they’re going to condemn her to hell.� I told her that they wouldn’t do that. “They aren’t like your people.”� I always make fun of her becuase she’s a Southern Baptist.� She makes fun of me because I’m not.

I think everyone should check out a band called Art Brut.� I heard them on Sirius Left of Center.� Great band.

I don’t have sheets on my bed.� They’re in the laundry.

“I shan’t play with you anymore until you’ve had a wash!”
- Saladfingers

Don’t read this, Dustyn:

Dave had a good theory that I’m going to borrow:� the world would be a better place if we were invaded by aliens.� See, when the States were “invaded,” we all came together to make one “I’m going to kick your ass if you mess with Texas” country.� If aliens invaded, we would have to come together, all of the countries, the continents, to form one big proverbial Pangea to kick Planet X’s ass.

Mike from Dive Enterprise really really believes in aliens.� Like, it’s a serious subject for him.� Just ask him about God.� Ask him.� I dare you.

Not you, though, Dustyn.� You aren’t even supposed to be reading this.� However, you can continue.� The bad part is over.

I keep mentioning him because he’s afraid of aliens.� Not as much as I’m afraid of ketchup.� I’d rather eat a homeless guy’s vomit than ketchup.� Seriously.

Speaking of Planet X, Liz, when is that?

Spring break will be fun for me.

Mr. More, my English teacher, has been high for the past week or so.� We have this project, and he keeps changing it.� Everyone is saying he’s hitting the ganja or something, but I just think it’s a cold medicine or a painkiller or something.� I don’t think he’d come to school after smoking the reefer.� He did alot though when he was in college.� He tells us stories.� Damn frat boys.

Damn you, ATO’s.� That’s why I drove through your damn wall.� Kidding.� I mean, I did drive through your wall, but not on purpose.� I was on my way to church.� I loved that car.� Sorry.� My insurance money paid for it, though.� Not that you cared, though.� The only ones who cared were your rich alum.

As pretentious as this is, I don’t want to pay to have friends.

That’s going to make everything hit the proverbial fan.

I got the whole “proverbial fan” deal from Steve.� Like that, huh?� He’s being published.

So in conclusion, Dustin Crow is a Chuck Norris follower.� That suprises me.

fin.

(that makes me indie.)

Holly had a weird dream about me. Well, regarding me. Steve wanted to have a child, but Holly didn’t, so Steve stopped taking his birth control, and he got pregnant. Belly and all. Holly was pissed/ embarrassed, so Steve told people that it was a beer belly. Then he went into labour, and they (tadah) gave birth to a beautiful 13 pound Liz. However, my head was the size of an adults, and my body was a baby’s. The doctor handed me to them, and I looked at Heve’s fear-filled faces and muttered, “HI!”

I bet I was hard to pass through Steve’s urethra.

I have 1112 views.

Speaking of the aforementioned creepiness, the weirdest thing happened to me today. You know, old people can say strange, scary, sometimes prophetic things. This old woman with Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s grabbed my hands today and whispered, “We killed him.”
Liz: Who did we kill?
Lady: We killed the one we feed.
Liz: What?
Lady: You don’t love.
Liz: I love everyone.
Lady: If you don’t love, THEN GOD WILL STRIKE YOU DOWN!

Then a nurse came in to give the woman her meds. I walked out, and the woman kept staring at me. This scared the hell out of me.

I know, I’m the type of person who thinks that everything means something, everything is a sign, an omen, but this is really freaking me out. Tell me what you think. Is this woman prophetic or just senile? Is this a huge turning point in my life, or is this just a crazy old woman? I’d like your opinion.

Like, a month ago, I asked everyone to tell me what your auras and souls look like, and nobody told me. I was disappointed. Assholes.

Dan called me while I was at rehearsal last night. Andy Milonakis was on and he wanted to watch it together. That’s fun. He used to piss me off so bad watching that when we were on the phone… hahaha. Use more inflection. Dan, you are a trip, and I’m sorry for not calling you back. I was going to earlier, but then I remembered you have a “normal” family that may be eating dinner, and God knows I mustn’t do anything else to make ton mere me dispise.

What’s so funny, pretty boy? Why are you laughing? You’ve got dimples! Do you blush? Drop and give me twenty!

Remember the episode of Ren and Stimpy when they went to boot camp, and the drill sargeant told Ren to give him twenty, and Ren gave him a twenty dollar bill? And the first time they got in trouble, they had to peel potatoes. The second time, watermelons. The third time: H bombs. Classic.

“Your eyes are like diamonds…”

hahha.

I lost 4 pounds this weekend. Thank you, Saltines! Thank you!

I’m always sad when I’m not smiling.

“That’s not living. That’s just existing.”
- Mr. Moore

Sometimes he feeds us bullshit propaganda, but sometimes he actually knows what he’s talking about.

Are you a thinker or a feeler? I’m a feeler. I feel, don’t think. Some of my closest friends think, don’t feel. My mum thinks and doesn’t feel. This evens me out. Thinkers may be more successful, they may have more things work out than feelers, but holy, feelers are so much happier. Some may not know it, but we are.

Another difference between me and my mum: She dwells on the past, I dwell on the future. She worries about things that have already happened and are finished. I worry about things that haven’t happened and probably won’t happen.

My mommy loves me : )

My dad and I used to have such an amazing relationship. Did that end because I grew up? Because I’m a woman now? Because I have tits and an ass, and he can’t see me as the little girl whom he taught how to change oil, with whom he used to eat pizza and watch I Love Lucy, who would laugh at his obnoxious jokes because she was too young to realize they were obnoxious? I understand. I really do. When my daughters grow up and don’t want to be fairies anymore, it will make things weird. Like, “who is that woman?” weird. But I still want to be a fairy.

So this ended up as one of my more serious blogs. Sorry. My next one will be goofier. I promise. Potatoes.

So last week, Holly and I were planning on doing something with Steve last weekend.  She calls me Saturday day and asks if I would go to the movies with them, and I comply.  She says, “Good, because X is coming with us.”  WHOA.  X is a guy with whom she used to be friends, until he fell in love with her.  Actually, X is how she met Steve.  Anywho, when Holly has her cell phone open, it doesn’t ring.  It just picks up when someone calls.  Apparently.  (Like, Oh my gosh, somebody killed my parents).  But Holly and Steve were talking about going to a movie with me when X called.  They heard something coming from her phone, and she picked up and he said, “Oh!  I want to go!”  So of course, they had to let him go.  And called me.  As soon as she told me he was going with, I called her a bitch.  I love her.  So we went out, and Holly painted me a painting that says, “Let Art Commence!”  HahahAHA.  That’s just so funny.  No, it isn’t an inside joke.  It’s just funny.

Before he got to Steve’s, I told Steve and Holly (Heve) that I am NOT sitting by X in the theatre.  We will sit Liz Holly X Steve or Liz Steve Holly X or anything that does not involve his sitting beside me.  When we got there, and the only seats there were in sets of two… no way was I sitting next to him.  So we went to Fulton to get some wine and drove back to Martin to see the 9:00 show.  You know in what fucking order we were sitting?  Steve, Holly, Liz, X.  WTF, mate?  So we made Steve and X go get us some M&Ms, and I sat in Steve’s seat, hoping X wouldn’t notice.  He did.

So after the movie, at which I cried, and Holly said, “Oh, Liz, you really are a girl!”, I saw Hurt and Stover, some kids whom I haven’t seen in like 2 years.

My cat is sitting on the bed, purring.  Karen brought her cat to rehearsal today.  Delinda said, “Like we haven’t seen a fucking cat before.”  I like her, but I think she’s bitter with the world.

So when we got back to Steve’s apartment, we had Pinot Noir and played Scrabble.  I’ll admit, I drank a little too much.  I just really really like Pinot Noir.    However, I won Scrabble.  Steve is an English majour and I was a little drunk, and I won Scrabble.  *gloat*

Speaking of majour, I got a few points with the word “labia.”  Then Steve and I began to talk about labia majoura and labia minora.  Wouldn’t it be cool if you could majour in labia?  I should, since I’m going to be an Ob/Gyn.  Screw Premed.  Labia all the way.  You know what?  Not only will I majour in labia, but I’ll also minor in it.  I just love labia.  Majour in labia, minor in labia, and hell, all of my extra- curriculars:  Labia.

Amniotic fluid, amniotic fluid.

But Holly is always trying to get me to make out with someone, and when X was in the bathroom, she asked if I would make out with him.  Of course, I yelled, “No!  He looks like a turtle!”  He then became embarrassed and left.  I didn’t know why he left unil Monday.

But yeah, of course, I spent the night on Steve’s couchbedcouch.  In Holly’s Jammies.  Her jammies had little chicks on the pants, and the t shirt she gave me was something about cheerleaders.  She used to be a cheerleader.  Dave : )

But I asked if I could sleep with them, and they said no.  Last time I slept on the couchbedcouch, I was naked.  Steve hasn’t unfolded the couchbedcouch since.  But they did let me have the llove llama.  I wonder if they take the llove llama off the bed before they do it.  I wouldn’t.

I woke up at 5 something the next morning.  I thought it was almost 9 for some reason.  Weird, huh?  Yeah.  Too much Pinot Noir.  I was nauseated.  I guess 4 glasses is too much for Liz.  I had Heve take me home.

Do you have any raisins?

Tony complained about my lack of blogging.  Blog blog blog.

“Dammit, Linda!”
- Jared.

She always gets in the way of Wade’s ass.  Always.  Her and her pink jogging pants.  Damn you, Linda.

Cats is going to be spectacular.  JR complimented me earlier today.  (Okay, JR will compliment anything with T and A, but that’s beside the point.)  I’m going to gloat a little.  Prep yourself:  JR told me that he can tell I’m working hard, and that I’m “carrying the show” and that I’m “emovite.”  I just really like being appreciated.  I had to deal with Nancy, and you loyal bloggers know how I am with her.  She makes me feel like I don’t exist.  She looks over me.  She doesn’t even notice me.  How does someone not notice me?  I’m not being pretentious, but hell, I’m noticable!

I had alot to talk about last night, but I was too sleepy.  I hung out with Alley Jo this weekend.  She has 2 names.

OH!  Miss Dolly!

You know, I visit her at the nursing home.  We tease her about Ernesto, the physical therapist.  He’s semi- attractive, and all of the old ladies have a crush on him, esp. Miss Dolly.  Well, she doesn’t always remember that her husband is dead, so one day, we were talking about her having an affair with Ernesto, and Hog said, “There’s nothing wrong with having one on the side.”  Miss Dolly replied, “There’s nothing wrong with having one on top, either!”  What a dirty old lady : )  And then another time we were teasing her about it, and she said, “That used to be a sin!”  I said, “Miss Dolly, it still is.”  She said, “Well, I’m Church of Christ.  I don’t sin.”  Hahaha, she’s -so- cute.

Miss Georgie is getting alot better.  I think I’m the only one who listens to her and pays attention.  She’s stuttering alot less, and she smiles more.  She makes me laugh.  She wants to run away with me, I think.  She’s always undressing her dolls.  She’s a sweet lady.  I love her.  I’ll be upset when she dies.

So in conclusion, Dustyn is a nice kid.  He’s not mormon.