Archive for January, 2006

Three Birthdays a Year

Tuesday, January 24th, 2006

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.)

Posted in Dance, Nasty, Old People, Philosophy, School, Secks | No Comments »

Denial is not a cocoon, but a cage.

Wednesday, January 18th, 2006

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.

Posted in Awkward Scenarios, Babies, Dreams, Family, Old People, Television | No Comments »

Neet.

Sunday, January 15th, 2006

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.

Posted in Awkward Scenarios, Dance, Language, Old People, Party over here, School, Television | 1 Comment »

Porn, Old Ladies, and Jade, in no particular order of importance.

Saturday, January 7th, 2006

Last night, I had the filthiest dream.� I know, nothing new, but I really did not like this one.

Hillary Duff and Hunter (no idea why it was them) got me into the pornography business.� Not just softcore type Playboy stuff, but hardcore porn.� Nasty type stuff.� Like Missy Monroe. -shudders-.� (no milk was involved).� I became a leader in the business, and I was -proud- of myself!� Wtf, mate?� I realized that this was only a dream when I was dreaming, but I couldn’t get myself to snap out of it.� I woke up disgusted with myself and took a shower.

But you see… whenever I haev nightmares, real ones, like someone’s cutting me up into little pieces, or someone has skinned Pete and hung him up in the laundry room, or my brother is eaten alive by clowns, I don’t realize it’s a dream.� I think it’s real, and it scares the fuck out of me.� I don’t think there is any way out, because, geez, if someone had you chained down and is chopping you up, piece by piece, wouldn’t you give up?� Alot of the time, I don’t realize it was a dream until minutes after I wake up.

In September, when Jade and I were just planning our trip to New York, I dreamt that my mum bought us tickets to see Spamalot… and they were only $4 each.� I woke up, went to school, and all day, I told people of my great news.� I went to work and told people.� I came home, hugged my mum, and thanked her.� “For what?”� It was then that I realized it was a dream.� I felt like such a rube.

There are so many other instances that prove that I can’t differentiate between fiction and reality, but for some reason, I could last night.

But before I forget, one of my friends had a really weird dream, but he wouldn’t tell me before I told him “the most fucked up dream I’ve ever had.”� I told him about when I went to the family reunion, and my mum ran away from me, screaming, because my forehead was bleeding in the shape of a cross…

…

…But anywho, this friend of mine– let’s call him…Snoopy….–� dreamt that he had sex with his sister.� Not only did he dream that he had sex with her, but he said that it was the most graphic sexual dream he’s ever had.� No, folks, he’s -not- from Tennessee.� He’s Canadian.

Some stuff at the hospital fell through, and I won’t start working with Dr.�Norsworthy until next week, so I went to the nursing home with Hogg and Sarah.
This is what Miss Dolly told me:
1.� I look pregnant.
2.� I look 30.
3.� I look 11.
4.� Her vagina hurts.
5.� Her hemerroids are bleeding.
She also asked me what it was like to have sex with Ernesto, her hot physical therapist, because, apparently, I’m sleeping with him.� I’m sure Hog told her that.� Thanks, Hog.� Oh, and she told me I was a bitch for calling Hog Hog.� Actually, Sarah and I were mean to Hog yesterday, but we’re always mean to her.� She’s little and we pick on her, but only because we love her.

She was in my bathroom yesterday reloading and Sarah and I kept openning the door.� Ah, friendship.

Also, at Beth’s party, we were watching unfaithful (a very dirty movie… I like it) and we were talking through the whole thing.� However, Hog whispered something to Beth at the end of the movie, and I yelled, “SHUT THE FUCK UP, HOG!”

Icky sent me some of his music.� I’m quite impressed.

Oh yeah, old people.� Miss Zelma told me that she loved me and asked me to be her lover.� She kept hugging me and patting my ass.� Miss Georgie, who has severe Alzheimers with Parkinsons, was playing with her dolls, making them kiss (nakedly, of course) was playing with this pillowcase for an hour, trying to get it straight across her little table.� That reminded me of myself, to an extent.� She stuttered so much that one can’t really understand what she was saying, but they told me that she�doesn’t know�what she’s saying, either.� I helped her wrap her baby up in the pillowcase.� When Sarah tried to help, she hit Sarah with her doll, and said, “No, Daddy!”� I did all I could to keep from pissing myself.
“I don’t wannna play no damn bingo!� Now get the hell out of here!”
-� Some mean fat lady, who isn’t even old.� She’s just in the Nursing Home because she’s too fat to live by herself.

I really like Franz Ferdinand : )

“You need to order me some more of that hemrroid medicine, you good lookin’ thang, you!”
-� Miss Dolly

Last night, Jade came over.� We went to eat Chinese, then we went to Blockbuster.� Justin, the guy from the documentary, isn’t half as cute as he used to be.� I don’t quite understand that.� Well we got 2 movies, which we have never heard of:� May and Madhouse.
Madhouse made me think… I bed the people in Sanitoriums get worse because they are in there… they’re expected to act crazy.� The nymphomaniac, Crystal… I’m sure before she was put in there, she didn’t masturbate in her doorway, full frontal like that.� She’s just doing it because she’s expected to, and she can.� I mean, if it was socially acceptible to drop your pants anywhere, wouldn’t you?

Then we watched May.� That was quite interesting.� A weird girl who nobody liked made her own friends.

“So many good parts, but no good wholes.”

Pete and Trixie are spooning each other at my feet.

At midnight, Alley Jo came over.� She overanalyzes everything.� Like I always told Coach Suiter, you can’t have the word “analyze” without the word “anal.”

Oh, and I like my car present, Mark : )

I’m going to hang out with Steve and Holly.

Posted in Dreams, Nasty, Old People, Party over here, Secks, Television, Travel | 1 Comment »

Liz. The other’n.

Sunday, January 1st, 2006

Wow, man, I haven’t blogged in like, 3 hours. It’s killing me. Yes, I’m being a Liz. She blogs on an average of 2-3 blogs a day. Short ones though. I don’t have as many blogs as her, but my blogs are long. I bet we have the same amount of collective blog, just spread out differently.

“aww, at least he’s bipolar.”
- Zephyr.

About Liz:

When Will Blakburn and I used to hang out frequently, he talked about her, and said that I should meet her. Well, I did. Like, 2 years later.

I went to her show with Zephyr the other night, and I was -highly- impressed by her lyrics and passion. I mean, I -wish- I wrote that stuff. Some of my favourites:

“I want to be under the influence right now/ The influence of what?/ The influence of you./ Let’s get drunk, Let’s get high/ Let’s get really fucked up.”

“I wish I were a seagul/ I could fly away/ But I’m a people/ So I’ve got to stay.”
(don’t we all)

“It’s amazing what you think is profound at 2AM/ When you’re overly tired and a little drunk at 2AM”
(How many times have I thought this, but not written it?”

“I’m a natural disaster/ I must confess/ I’m a mess/ But no more than anyone else.”

Amazing, huh? Liz can play guitar like whoa. Liz can write like whoa. I can play okay. I can write okay. When I do write, though, I get so worried about people reading my personal thoughts, that they’re going to criticize them (I hate criticism). Yeah, I wrote my own stuff when I was in Shades of Reality, but geez, I was screaming half the time, so it’s not like they could actually understand what I was singing anyway. I have alot of respect for people who can take their feelings, their thoughts, and their words, and say, “Here, world. This is me.”

Sure, I can sing well. Woot. I can sing -other people’s- music. I can act well. I can portray -other people’s- characters.

I miss being in a band. Well, not that band, but I miss being in front of people, doing what I do. Yes, I love attention. It’s my downfall. I thrive on it.

I can’t wait for Cats.

“Liz, my water just broke! Too hoo hoo hoo!”
- Zephyr

Liz is so much cooler than me : )

Well, I bet I can dance better than she can. I -am- the dancing queen, after all. Young and sweet, only seventeen. Hey, Liz… pretend like you wish you could dance as well as I can, so I can feel cool and desired. Humor me, dear : )

That’s right, I can kick your ass at DDR.

So I’ve been listening to… dun dun dun… Jamiroquai… That’s right, fuck yous, I like Jamiroquai : )

“But MHMIGAWD, Liz! You’re so pUnK! I don’t get it!”

My favourite band is Weezer.
I used to be in a metal band.
I went to an acoustic set the other night.

BUT THAT DOESN’T

MEAN I WON’T SPIT
IN YOUR FUCKING

FACE, ASSHOLE.

Posted in Music | No Comments »

Omaha, Somewhere in Middle America

Sunday, January 1st, 2006

Christmas wasn’t bad this year… the only disappointment�I got was the fact that Santa Claus didn’t come to my house… does that mean I’m bad, or does that mean that I’m a grown up now?� Or both?� I’m not a “legal” adult in most states, so am I really a “grown up”?� Everyone seems to think so.� Little do they know that I find joy in Mr. Potato Head and colouring.

Anywho, I got an amp from my mum, and a digital camera from Rob.� Cool, huh?� Oh, Mark Adam got me a 3 hour Weezer DVD, all things weez from 1991 to 2002.� Kick ass, I know.

So the day after Xmas, mum and I left for Omaha.� We made really good timing on the way up there… Dan called me when we happened to stop at Taco Bell, which I didn’t know was his favourite restaurant, but just because he doesn’t talk about it all the time like Lia : )

“You’re a horrible friend!”
- Daniel Ryan Heny

When Dan was little, kids used to say, “Dan Heny has a great big weenie!” and he’d say, “Stop it, no I don’t!”� Who would have thought that years later, he still makes that argument for his own amusment.

Anywho, when we got there, I made my phone calls and Aunt Reenie, Aunt Ro, mum, and I went…driving… and looking at Xmas lights.� Not only had mum and�I been in a car for 10 hours, but there was a big ass American flag covering my window, so I couldn’t see anything.� Mum didn’t mind we were in a car… she was on her third glass of wine, of which she really can’t handle.� She was talking about how it isn’t fair that the three of us (Aunt Reen, Aunt Ro, and I) have big ole boobies and she doesn’t.� It would probably embarrass her to know that I blogged about that… Oh well.

Anywho, we drove through this neighborhood that didn’t have any lights�up or anything, and Aunt Ro said, “Wow, must be a bunch of Jews in this neighborhood.”� Like Dan.� Jewish old Dan Heny.

Oh, and anything that isn’t Union City is a suburb of Union City.� Especially Omaha and Troy.� They’re outside of the UC, therefore suburbs.

So the next day, the aunts, mum, my cousin Kiley and I went to Council Bluffs, the armpit of Omaha, to see Memoirs of a Geisha.� It was alright.� Then Dan stopped by to show off his ipod.� I really missed him.� He’s such a good friend to me.� Anywho, he talked to Aunt Reenie for ages… he’s good with aunts and parents.� They talked about retarded kids and how cool they are.� So then, Dan’s like, “Hey, did I tell you about this really cool party?” and he looked at me with that sarcastic smile.� If it was anything like the last “really cool” party we went to where we played mafia and ate Cool Whip out of the tub, then hell yes.� No, Phil was having a LOTR marathon party, and then it was moving to Julia’s house.� “Aren’t my friends cool?” Yes, Dan.� There was much Lord of the Rings and 4 way chess playing.� Phil didn’t like the idea that Dan and I were sitting on his couchbedcouch.

Innuendo Sign Up!� I don’t think that Omaha kids know the meaning of “innuendo.”� To them, an innuendo is, “I’m going to have sex with you.”� Too much Bloodhound Gang, I suppose.

Anywho, as the “party” moved to Chez Julia, Dan and I were chosen to make a Taco Bell run, but first, I had to meet his parents.� I wasn’t really too worried about his dad, but his mum… *shudders*.� The woman had never met me, but hated me anyway.� She is a bitch and a half.� So we got there, and she gave me that big, fake, I’m-just-smiling-to-keep-from-killing-you smile.� I found it quite funny.� She arranged Chirstmas cookies… ON DOILIES!� Doilies!� What kind of monster uses doilies?!� Dan had to leave the room to find my Christmas present and his lightsabers, one of which he would eventually give to me.� However, the meeting wasn’t quite as bad as I had anticipated.� She actually asked me questions, which I thought was quite nice of her.� As soon as we began to reach an awkward silence, Dan walked in the kitchen temporarily to kill it.� Make a wish, it’s 1:11.� To impress his mum, I casually mentioned that I’m going to Med school, which I think was an excellent move on my part.� Dan walked in again and mouthed, “I’m so sorry…”� Finally, we left.

Then we went to Taco Bell and ordered like 20 bucks worth of food.� When the chick at the window saw that there were just 2 people in the car, Dan said, “I haven’t eaten in two days; Are you ready for this?”� Touche’, Heeny.

So we get to Julia’s and everyone announces that they love me, because I gave them tacos.� Dan paid for it, but I’m the pretty one, I suppose.

We had lightsaber fights over a spread of burritos and cinnamon twists.

Peter told me, “I must admit, this summer’s Ha game was the worst game I’ve ever played.”� I swear, that game is so much fun when we play in in Tennessee.� But then again, Tennessee’s no Nebraska…

After the party, Dan and I went to Cold Stone for rich people ice cream.� Diamond encrusted ice cream.� I had banana : )� I suggested that we take our light sabers in, and he obliged, but said, “If you take yours out, I’m going to pretend I don’t know you and leave.”� Well as the chick was taking our order, my lightsaber fell out of my belt loop.� Yes, he walked away.� Then we couldn’t get out of the door, so some kind people directed us to another door which was much easier to operate.� We we got outside, I challenged him to a duel.� I’m not sure who won.� Let’s just say I did.

The next day, Kiley and I went to Giant Book Sale, where they sell only giant books.� Actually, my cousin Adam works there… It’s just a big warehouse type deal with books at low low prices.� Anywho, the place is about to leave, so the books are even cheaper.� I got like, 20 books for $13 dollars.� I got Adam’s empoyee discount, plus the Adam’s Hot Cousin discount.

Then Dan and I picked up Lia, whom I haven’t seen in as long as I’ve seen Dan.� We went to Bag and Save, where we took pictures of my ass with honey buns and bought Cookie Crisp and pirate gear for Zach’s little sister.� (the cookie crisp was ours).� Erin works there.� We told her to come to Sokol Underground when she got off… WORK!� HAH…ha…

So we drove around to Zach’s house on 13th, where his little sister did Jesus magic for me.� She’s a cute kid.� Oh, on the way to Zach’s, we sang Bohemian Rhapsody, which is always a good driving around song.� I’m a Bohemian Goddess.

So we get to Sokol, which I kept calling “SoCal,” and it’s quite stimulating.� There was not a good band playing the whole night.� I met a cool chick named Kassie.� She’s lots of fun.� Lia and I danced together.� She p0wns me at rave dancing.� We did the robot for like an hour, too.� Then, the drunken Rocky and Bullwinkle duo complimented us on our skills.� Yeah, they got a little creepy after a while.� It’s no compliment when a guy tells you you’re beautiful after his 5th Long Island Iced Tea.� I mean, he probably thought the fat chicks were hot, too.� Rocky’s still calling Lia.

Then came Icarus.� He was drunk, too, but more interesting and less creepy.� Lia and I were playing with our lightsabers, and he came over and talked about them, and I challenged him to a duel.� I kicked his drunken ass.� So he started telling me all about his concept album, which = his whole damn life story.� He has gourds in his car that his uncle gave to him.� Or his grandfather.� Whatever.� I like to call him Icky.

They have couches at Sokol.� How cool is that?� So I went to your room and read your diary.

The next day, we left.� Mum and I danced to Prince in the car.
Last night, I went to Rob’s with my mum, �and we watched I <3 the 80’s and played Cranium and Buzzword.

Mason’s girlfriend mentioned Old Yeller, and Mason said, “Oh yeah, the funny part is when they shoot the dog!”

I promised him I would blog that.� I have like a zillion readers, so he’s famous now.

I’m changing.� You know what I mean?� No, not puberty, silly.� I’m all through with that…
I’m just changing.� My taste in things is changing.� Certain things.� I’m going to upset two different people with one action, as soon as I figure out how to do it.� Person two will be upset for a totally different reason.� Person two, I apologize.� I feel bad.� Person one, not so much.

“19, 29, 39, 20 billion dollahs!”
- Dan Heny

So in conclusion, I miss Omaha.� I like it there.� Tennessee’s no Nebraska…

Currently Eating:� A biscuit.

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