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 we all assume things to make us feel better, whether you like to admit it or not.
Example: You go to a public rest room, sit on the potty, stand up, and find a pubic hair on the seat. Of course, you assume it was yours, seeing as you didn’t see it before you sat down, and your keen eye would have noticed it, right?
Welp, this happened to me about a week ago. (And yes, you’re right, I haven’t blogged in over a week. Colleen seems to be the only complainer, though.) I went to the potty [and most of you know that I live in a dorm, so my only potty is a public (or should I say, pubic) one.]. When I stood up, I noticed a pubic hair on the toilet seat. No big deal, right? Just assume it’s yours, right? Wrong. I would assume it was mine, but egads, everyone knows Liz’s pubic hair is traffic cone orange. And not an inch and a half long. I trim that junk.
I shuttered, but then made an assumption of my own to make myself feel better: (more…)
So of course Steve Irwin died. Whoda thunk. The guy who plays with dangerous animals was killed by a dangerous aminal.
That was going to be funny. I made a note to blog that right when it happened, but that was last weekend, and it’s now Thursday night. You will be pleased to know that Mattchew is giving me his old computer soon. That means more blogtime. That’s good news for the few people who didn’t join Holly’s Monday Bear Protesters group on Facebook. Sonsabitches.
Things I like about school: (more…)
So I realize it’s been a while, but damn you, I’m a college woman now, and I’ve got shit to dos.
See, you can tell I’m in college, because I used “damn” and “shit” in the same sentence.� And I just fucking did it again.
Oops, I did it again.
So of course, I’m sure you’re all dying to know how my pooping schedule is since I’ve moved to a dorm.� Welp, as opposed to the usual 3 a day, I’m down to two.� That has something to do with: (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 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:
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 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:
(more…)