So lets just get this part out of the way. I don’t think I’m fat, and I’m no longer anorexic (Hell, did you see everything I ate last night?). However, it still sucks like mad when someone says something about my weight/ appearance repeatedly.
Every Sunday that we attend church, my mum says something about my clothes being too tight, looking pregnant, etc. I’m serious, every Sunday, every freaking Sunday, I change clothes at least once to please my mother. (The same mother, mind you, who called 8th grade 75 pound Liz a lardass. Thanks, mom.) So this morning, I had on this fabulous black dress that comes slightly above the knee. We were running about 5 minutes late (I had been dressed for fifteen minutes), and on the front porch, as we were leaving the house, she said, “You aren’t wearing a slip.” I ignored that. We are at the car. She looks at me with disgust.
“Liz…”
“What, spit it out. What’s wrong with my outfit.”
“Your dress is entirely too small for you. It’s riding up over your butt and makes you look horrible.”
“You know what? Fuck this. We’re already late. I’m not going. Leave without me.”
Childish? Yes. But one thing that Matt has taught me is that sometimes the whole, “I’m not going to stoop down to his/ her level” thing doesn’t work. Like with children. Like with Susan.
But on with the blogging. Steve. Crazy old pansy boy Steve. I have at least 2 Steve bloggings about which to blog. These are the things to which I say, “I’m so blogging that.” Or in Steve’s case, “Are you so blogging that?”
So Steve and Holly were in a crowded mall, picking up his tux. He was telling her about how he lived with this guy in Alabama. “We bought those cheap ugly Wal Mart paintings of boats and lighthouses and things, you know, to make up feel manly.” Holly made fun of him for a wee bit, and Steve interjected, “What? It made us feel manly to have seamen all over the walls!”Everyone turned and looked. And laughed.
Bahaha! (That’s a Davo laugh.)
About this time last year, when I was recording with Shades of Reality (bahaha!) No, no, that was in February, because it was right after Metrofest. Anywho, they were making fun of me/ Davo, because apparently Davo was supposed to be some sort of stalker? (They were probably just jealous of his skillz. And the fact that he was handcuffed to me.) But anywho, they wrote “I < 3 David Waddell” on my hand. I thought that was funny.
Ugh. That reminded me of Kevin. He’s so gross. Not only is he an asshole, but he’s fat, too. And he called me fat. A fatass called me fat. Fatty.
So anywho, back to Steve. We ate at Patti’s last night, and of course, you know how those types of restaurants are, they have little giftshops in which to look around whilst you wait. And you know as well they most of those have Yankee candles and the like. Welp, this place had Yankee candles and soy candles. They also had those little soy beads. Steve grabs a box of soy beads, comes over toward me and says, “Hey Liz, you’re indie… what are these for?”
hahahha.Oh, that Steve.
I lost two pounds today. Go team Liz go.
There was a huge cock on the wall of Pattis. It kept staring at me while I was eating. Kind of like our waiter, Weezie. Our Ouisie. I didn’t axe. I didn’t really care. All that matters was that he liked my cleavage and took six cents off of our bill. I’m his little camel.
Toe.
Oh yeah, and he imagined Steve naked all night long. Mhm. Steve the milk man. Steve would be a milk man, but dammit, he just doesn’t want kids.
Today in the middle of my blog, Holly calls me and asks me to hang out with her and Steve. I was defuckinglighted. They make me so happy. They are so in love. They remind me of myself and Matt. They understand us and won’t judge us. You know how nice that is? Really nice.
Holly and Steve will never be at that point in their relationship where they can poop in front of each other, though. (Here come the poopin’, here come the poopin’.)� That’s sad. They just said it’s not gonna happen.
Let me talk about Holly’s mom’s bathroom for a minute.
The first thing I noticed was that it’s really big. No one fat lives in Holly’s house.
Have you ever noticed how fat people have small bathrooms? Why is that? Can you imagine a fat person taking a shower in Matt’s shower? I could hardly fit in there. I hit my ass against the wall several times. That makes for good leg shaving, though. However, it makes for horrible “bikini area” shaving, hence the whole Cactus vs. Penis, Lvl. 2 deal.
But I digress:
The next thing I noticed was that they had about 7 shower puffs in the shower. Only three females of shower puff- using age live there. I do realize that it is the 21st century, and many males use shower puffs, but Jimmy doesn’t seem like the shower puff- usin’ kind of guy. He seems like the spit- on- his- crotch- and- call- it- clean kind of guy. Mhm.
I asked why they had so many, and Holly really didn’t know, but all hell breaks loose when someone uses the wrong one.
“When I used to come visit back in our early dating days, I would just go through them one at a time.”
- Steve
He really didn’t.
I just can’t watch films with Jake Gyllenhaadsafhjka;.l;lll in them anymore. Damn you, three chord Vaughn, damn you to hell.
What kind of a name is Vaughn anyway? Six letters, one syllable. WTF, mate?
So Erick is growing up. He’s being a good brother. Not only is he coming to my performances, but he also asks if Matt is being good to me. And and and, he won’t take me to get a tattoo for my graduation present. Isn’t that sweet? He finally cares about me. I love him.
“I saw this in a porno one time…”
Mom and I just need some time apart. We’re going crazy.
Crazy like Holly’s tornado- humpin’ pug.� Just imagine me spinning whilst humping in Holly’s mom’s kitchen.
“You’re going to blog this, aren’t you?”
- Steve
So in conclusion, Jade looked incredibly hot last night, and my boyfriend is indeed not a porn star.� Remember when he was “MTSU boy”?
