Monday Bear

So my dear friend Zephyr is usually a counselor at Girl Scout Camp right about this time of year, but decided to take this summer off to explore herself.  To join the Peace Corps. To write a cookbook.  Catch up on school and take a few classes at MTSU.  To avoid cleaning my house, and because I missed her, I wrote her a letter the other day on one of those giant pieces of papers they wrap your fragile stuff in when you buy it.  In this case, it was a flower pot.

And Zephyr, please don’t read this until you get the letter, as that would defeat the purpose of the letter.

Anywho, here is the letter:

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So my cats have the fleas. Well, now it’s -had- the fleas. We took them to the vet ($174) to find out that Kitty has a heart murmur. But on the bright side, they have the cleanest ears this side of the Mississippi.

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So I forgot something else I want for my birthday, which was 10 days ago: new belly dance apparel. And new pointe shoes. And a cat box, because I have TWO. NEW. KITTENS!

Just for the record, I expected you to read that aloud and with enthusiasm, much like people do WHEEL. OF. FORTUNE!, if you couldn’t tell by the boldness and capitalization. If you didn’t read it aloud and with enthusiasm, I advise that you go back and do so. I think you’d appreciate it much more.

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So I have a new MondayBear.com contest. Anyone who gets my name “Liz” or “mondaybear.com” tattooed on their person gets 50 cents. Either that, or they get to give me 50 cents. Or both. But that wouldn’t really do much, except get you a tattoo.

Oh, and you have to pay for the tattoo.

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So I’ve got this problem: I was going to blog all the funny voice mails (or as Verizon calls them, “VMAILS,”) that Alley Jo has sent me in the past year or so, but I was going through my phone, and they are no where to be found. What happened to them? Are they in a better place? Tell me what you think.

But anywho, here are some I can remember by heart:

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So the other day, I was in McCallie, and I remembered that I hadn’t pooped in over 24 hours. Then I thought about blogging, because I blog about pooping. Then I thought about what I needed to blog. Then I thought about how just about every time I start a new blog, I have to stop to poop. Then I had to poop. It was a miracle.

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So I’m warning you: This is a pretty raunchy blog, and if you’re under the age of 16, or are related to me, or are a med school admissions person, I prefer you not read this particular entry. I will find out if you do. Especially you, little Brenda. I’ll tell your mom about your myspace page…

As a sidenote, I’m wearing a bracelet that is next to impossible to type in.  So I take it off.  Now I can type.

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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:

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So geez louise, who would have thought I would have gone 2 weeks without blogging? You all have missed much pooping, concerts, etc. Welp, I could be eating lunch right now, but noes. I’m blogging for you assholes.

Oh, and if you tried to call me in the past two weeks, my mom has my cell phone. She’s mailing it back to me as we speak, though.

So here’s some stuff: (more…)

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…)