Monday Bear

The bad news is that I lost it the hard way.  No, not through diet and exercise, the other hard way.  Through vomit and starvation.  No, not like 9th grade Liz.  Like sick Liz.  Holy Gah, was I sick.  I finally managed to keep down some Ramen noodles last night.  (pronounced RAYmen, you idiot.  This is ‘marica.)  I was soooo sick.  Almost as sick as I was that one time when my mum found me passed out in the bathroom.  That was funny.  Well, not at the time, we thought I was dying.  But it’s funny looking back at it.  Kind of like Viet Nam.

I had a dream that I killed a Zombie with my bare hands.

I should blog this before I forget.  This happened about 2 weeks ago, but let’s pretend this was recent:

So I was at work earlier today, and I looked really freaking hot.  I was wearing my Dom boots, and these really hot jeans.  I went to write something down on the board in the colour room, and I did some rearranging in there (okay, my jeans were kind of tight… and I bet everyone rearranges in the color room).  Suddenly, I felt a breeze.  I looked down, and, alas.  I had an inch-long rip in the crotch of my pants.  When I was getting ready, something told me I should have worn underwear.  I was mildly embarrassed.  I shuffled (nice descriptive verb) to the bathroom to safetypin my crotch together.  From the inside.  And all I had were those big safetypins.  Not only was it cold on my noonie, it was pokey.  And not in the pleasurable sense.  I was sweeping, and one came undone.  It hurt.  I repinned it and was good for the night.  I don’t think anyone saw, though, because I’m sure they would have told me.  I would tell you if your crotch was showing.  Especially if you weren’t wearing panties.

I should have learned from that time at Paducah in the mosh pit.  At least I was wearing cute panties that time.

I had a really good proposition one time, one that I had waited for my whole sexual life, but didn’t take it up, because I was wearing ugly panties.  I guess I could have gone into the bathroom and taken them off.

Dammit, Liz.  Now you think of it.  2 years later.

So Thursday night.  What a night.  More dudes showed up than expected, but that was okay.  We played Battle of the Sexes, and I won.  I kicked ass.  Does that mean I’m a lesbian?  I hope not.  I like boys too much.

mmm… sid vicious… mmm…

Anywho, after the boys left, we watched Wedding Crashers for a bit.  The weird boy in that movie was hot.  What’s his name?

We went outside.  I peed in the front yard.  It’s really liberating to be naked in public.  I wasn’t really naked.  I had a fig leaf.  An ivy leaf, but I called it my biblical underwear.

Then I called Jim from Beth’s laundry basket.  What a trip.

Then I woke up in time for work.  Karma is a bitch.

Speaking of, that chick wrote me again.  I haven’t written her back, though.  She seemed really apologetic, though.

I painted a germ with teeth.  Mine and Matthew’s first child.

When my aunt was 15, she peed on a boy at the beach.  He never called her back.

What was your favourite cartoon as a child?  Mine was Captain Planet.  Who’d have thunk?  I’ve always been a tree hugger.  I had the lunchbox, the valentines, the underwear (yes, they were made for boys), the teeshirt, etc.  People made fun of me.  Kids can be so cruel.

I got Strawberry Shortcake valentines this year.  I look like Strawberry Shortcake, all grown up.  And what the hell is with the jeans?  Strawberry shortcake doesn’t wear jeans!  She wears green and while leggings.  Geez.

Same thing with My Little Ponies, Carebears, and TMNT.  What the hell.

WTF, mate?

So in conclusion, you should all download google talk.  It’s sooooo much better than MSN messenger.  When all of the people who I care about get google talk, I’m uninstalling MSN.  It is the suck.

Currently watching:  A big fucking snake.

Popular culture no longer applies to me.

So all of we interns played this “game” Friday over lunch.  It sprouted from Hog always being a pseudobitch.  We just went around the table saying one nice thing and one mean thing about everyone.  Of course when it was Brad’s turn, he was like, “I’m not going to say anything… I can’t think of anything… bitch bitch piss moan… etc…” and whenever someone would say the negative thing about him, he would make a big freaking deal about it.  The whole point of the game is to be able to talk shit without shit being talked back unequally.  It’s fun/ relieving.  Anywho, here are things said about me:

Hog:  You’re conceited, but you’re unique and have the best personality of anyone I know.
Sarah:  I hate that I’m intimidated by you because you’re so smart, but it’s a good thing that you’re smart, and you’re so warm and compassionate.  You care about everyone.
MaryBeth:  You steal everyone’s attention, but you have really good grammar.
Jamie:  It gets on my nerves that it takes you 30 minutes to tell a story that should take 5 minutes, but you’re nice to everyone and can relate to everybody.
Beth:  You don’t respect other people’s opinions.  You just force yours on everyone else and don’t let anyone win an argument, but you’re really funny and I love your personality.  (She said she loves everyone’s personality).
Brad:  I can’t think of anything bad… Okay, I’ll have to agree with Beth.  You’re conceited, you don’t respect other people’s opinons, you always have to be right, and I hate your voice.  Your accent just gets on my nerves so much.  I hate it.  Um… and you’re hot.  And you’ll be more successful and richer than all of us combined.

Asshole.

But I love how he couldn’t think of anything at first, and then broke the rules entirely by spouting off 72 different things he doesn’t like about me.

But here’s what I said about everyone.

Hog:  I don’t like how you won’t have sex with your boyfriend (She’s my friend… it’s hard to think of anything bad about her), but you aways put me in a good mood with your bitchiness.
Sarah:  (It was really hard for me to think of anything negative)  I don’t like how you’re so hard on yourself, but you are the most caring person I know.
MaryBeth:  You make a huge deal about everything, but I’m glad you’re in love.
Jamie:  I don’t like how passive you are, but you’e so genuine.
Beth:  You know that you are really negative, but when you’re in a good mood, youre great with whom to party.
Brad:  You’re a racist and a twelve year old girl (”I’m not a racist, Liz”), but you’re really funny when you say, “THERE’S A GIRL IN THERE!” and you have a nice goatee.

All in all, it was successful.

Tony, I’m going to kick your ass.

Insert whining about the tiny paycheck here…  When I saw it, I wanted to cry.  Seriously.  That’s all.

Wow, I’m suddenly in a negative mood.  I need to stop being so emo.  I guess Tony’s video caused it… damn you, Tony.  Sorry for bleeding on your shirt…

hahahah, making fun of emo kids always puts me in a better mood.

I just make fun of them because I’m so insecure and weak on the inside…

*spits*

Oh, check this out:

I think he (Dan) is feeling a bit unspecial as of late.  You know what?  I think all of you should give him a handjob.  That’s right, drop everything you’re doing and go to Omaha -just- to give him a handjob and only a handjob.  Not even a greeting.  Just a handjob.  He’d like that.

Especially you.

Oh, and you totally did not leave a message, Dan’l.

“I like a good love story about a deer.”
- Ashley

We went out last night.  Nothing happened.

One of you guys should take Ashley out.  She’s really hot, and really funny once you get her to get out of her little shell.  She’s just shy.  That’s why I have to push her.  I should have taken a picture of her.  She’s tall, blonde, and thin.  My brother is infatuated with her.

Jade, we need to freaking get together to make our plans.  We need to make plans to make plans.

So Erik was at ballet Saturday, and that made me extra-happy.  I miss him so so much.

“Hey Brenda, do you have any chapstick?”

haha, I love it.

Oh, so Dustyn isn’t going to be able to come over next weekend, which saddens the both of us terribly.  It’s because he’s owned by the Man, and they said no.  He wanted to come anyway, but I won’t let him.  He would pretty much die.  We don’t take theoretical death of nice boys with dimples too kindly around these parts.  However, it does sadden us that we shan’t see one another next weekend.

Oh, I just made my facebook last night.  Add me, because I don’t know how to find people on it.

So when the time comes, you should all go to peta.org and vote for me for World’s Cutest Vegetarian.  No, seriously.

So in conclusion, Gerbilling is bad for one’s health.  Trust me.  I’m a doctor… sort of…

Okay, the funniest thing happened to me today.� I opened my Myspace inbox, and I find a message titled “suprise!”� Someone likes me enough that she made a whole annonymous myspace account just to send me a message from it so I wouldn’t know who she was.� I feel so honoured.� When I read it, I died laughing.� So will you.� Here it is:

LIZ’S NEW RULES: you should stay away from the paducah and metropolis area for a while miss baby prostitute america…. there are a lot of people around there hoping to catch you alone if you know what im saying…. this is no friendly warning… i’m one of those people. this isn’t a joke or a prank… i’m telling you this because i’ve met you a couple of times and i know how stupid, nieve, and slutty you are. you’re going to get your face cracked the fuck open with the way you act or raped one. oh, and have some respect for men with wifes and girlfriends….

your music sucks… you really should quit the whole metal thing. you must not know what a big joke you really are. the guys only pretend to like you cause they wanna fuck you whore.

LEARN IT… LOVE IT…. LIVE IT BITCH.

Hhahha, That’s me, alright.� Miss Baby Prostitute America.� I love it.� Of course, I wrote her back:

Dear You,

1. I have no idea who you are. Chances are, you don’t know me very well.
2. I admit I may be naive, but I am not slutty, and I sure as hell am not stupid.
3. You spelled naive wrong.
4. You spelled wives wrong.
5. I’ve never slept with, or even touched, for that matter, anyone’s husband or boyfriend.
6. In case you weren’t aware, I quit Shades of Reality almost a year ago. I am aware we sucked. I apologize for killing a few of your brain cells with the noise pollution.

I really don’t know who you are, or why you would want to start something when I haven’t been to Paducah in 3 months. I’m sorry you’re unhappy with me for whatever reason. I hope you have a great day.

Sincerely,

Liz

I think I handled it quite nicely.� But geez, seriously… are we still in middle school?� You all know I’m a pacifist, but my goodness.� Just… my goodness.

But who could it be?� I know two bitter wives whose husbands may have said something about me and made them jealous, but I’m not sure if they are silly enough to write me an annonymous email.� Plus, her profile said that she was Single.� I haven’t heard of either of them getting a divorce.

But it was probably just Davo messing with me.�

Who knows.� I thought it was funny.

So today, Hog and I made her a myspace.� I’m her only friend, besides Tom, so I think you all should add her.

www.myspace.com/hogg88

She’s hot.� She has a picture of Miss Dollie on her profile.� Check ch ch ch check ch check it out.

She finally got a job.� Woot!� She’s a “Dietary Aide” at the Nursing home.� That means she’s the dishwashing bitch.� The upside:� She gets to wear a hairnet.� I haven’t worn a hairnet in ages.� When I had long hair down to my ass, when I was an Ana, I had to put a hairnet over my bun for ballet.� I tended to rip them, though, because of all of the bobbypins.� That got expensive, so I cut my hair.

Just kidding.

It’s 5:55.� Make a wish.

So anywho, that’s not the reason I cut my hair.� The reason I cut my hair was for the fauxhawk.� I think that’s a bit out of the question now.� My hair is so long, it would probably take an hour to fix, and Liz doesn’t wake up for school until 30 minutes before she has to leave.� I don’t have time to be cute.

Mrs. Sacchi and Mr. Moore are writing my letters of recommendation AS WE SPEAK.� Or they better be.� If not, I’ll kick their asses.

Speaking of kicking asses, of all of you who know me:� Don’t you already know me well enough to know -not- to make a racist comment around me?� I mean, a joke, that’s less unacceptable, but a fucking blatant comment?� Hell no.� To protect this person, I won’t say his name.� But I was in my car with Sarah in the front seat, and Hog and X in the backseat.� My car, mind you.

X:� You don’t have any black people in your neighborhood, do you?
Liz:� No, why?
(Sarah’s mouth gapes open, her knowing what’s about to go down.)
X:� Shit, I left my keys in my car…

You can imagine what I said.� Sarah kept track of how long I was screaming at him:� All the way from High St. to the Guiren Mansion on Reelfoot Ave.� At less than 35 mph.� Constant screaming and cursing.� I said every curse word I know.� I even made some up.� I said the F word more in that 3 minutes than I ever have in my entire life.� I was only half’-watching the road;� I was looking back at him in my rearview mirror the rest of the time.� He looked like he was about to soil himself.� Hog was about to piss herself with laughter.� Sarah had an open-mouthed look of astonishment.

You all know I’m a hippie, a pacifist, but gosh darnit, if I wasn’t driving, I would have jumped into the backseat and wailed on him.

Seriously, how ignorant can one get?

I think it’s time for some new pictures.

Oh yeah, apparently, Emily , Amy , and I are the new Destiny’s Child.� Emily is Beyonce’ (of course), Amy is Kelly, and I’m the one who’s name everyone forgets.� (I suppose if we were Teen Girl Squad, I would be What’s Her Face.� The Ugly One is my favourite, though.� I have a crush on every boy!)� We were taking a hiphop class, and we were dancing to, you guessed it, Destiny’s Child.� Ask me to show you my Destiny’s Child dance.� You’ll love it.� I can’t take credit for it.� In fact, I refuse to accept credit for it.� Emily made it up.

So out of everyone in our ballet class, I am the only one.� We think Emily is next.� I’m trying to get her to.� Peer pressure.� I’m good at that.� It’s especially easy on her.� “You want to be cool, don’t you?� You want to be one of us, don’t you?”� It’s especially nice when I use it on my mum… she’s so cute.� She’s not even my peer.� Anywho, we say Emily will be next, because she is in a relationship.� Amy is too, but I don’t think she’ll in until a few years from now.� However, Caitlin  could easily be next.� I don’t know much about Rachel, but it’s possible.

I love how you have no idea what I’m talking about.

However, Brenda -is- indeed pregnant.

Brenda is… 12 or 13…� and she had her first kiss.� We then “told on her” to Mrs. Sacchi.� It was great fun.� Now I’m telling all of you.� Brenda kissed a boy. Ooooooh…

I wish that was still a big deal.� That way, we wouldn’t bug Hog about it so much.� Now people are only interested if you have sex.� Or some form of it.� I know I can be kind of a makeout whore.� I’m getting better though.� Hey, at least I don’t have sex with everyone.

I used to have a list of everyone who I’ve kissed.� The last one on the list was J.� Wow, that was a while ago.� It’s probably doubled since then.� Let me count… Yeah that would take too long.� It’s probably doubled.� Oh, gosh, I totally forgot about Eric.� I guess I blocked that from my memory.� I almost forgot that we even dated until Jon Bon reminded me.� Thanks, McNut.� I still have that squirrel.

Oh, Eric, I want my damn necklace back.� Both of them.� You won’t wear them.

I could say something mean, but I’ll refrain.� He might go psycho.

Speaking of , the other day at rehearsal, John Esley, who, although he knows everything there is to know about music, is not on the board of directors, therefore having no business telling me this, told me, “You have very little rhythm.”

I wanted to say, “You have very little metabolism,” but that would be mean.� I’m trying to be nicer to the obese.� I find it easier to be nice to them when I know that they’re trying to lose weight.� I guess you have to start somewhere.� But seriously, the easiest way to lose weight is to NOT GET FAT IN THE FIRST PLACE, FATASS.

I’m not going to lie, I’m really digging Coheed and Cambria lately.

“What was up with his hair, anyway?”
-� Jon Bon.� A manly man.� You can tell by his name.

That comment wasn’t about Coheed and Cambria.� However, I do have a hair comment about Coheed and Cambria.

The first time I heard them, I was like, “Oh my gosh, his voice is sooo sexy.� I want him.”

I was picturing a tall, skinny, pale�boy with dark hair and tight pants.

What did I get?� A fat guy in baggy clothing with really bad hair.� Ugh.� I mean -really- bad.� I wish I could be their Band Fluffer.� I could make them so pretty.� I’m a really good Band Fluffer.

I hate baggy clothes.� At least buy pants that fit.� I’m not too crazy about the bondage pants anymore, either.� They’re alright, but I guess… I don’t know.� Baggy T shirts are the worst.� Especially on skinny boys.� I like tight-fitting clothing.� I mean, I generally don’t wear anything tight-fitting, but at least I wear… fitted… clothing.� Leotards don’t count.

I think I like boyish hair, too, as opposed to spikes.� Not that spikes are girly, but… how can I explain…� Dudes, I like the haircut you had when you were nine.� No, not the mullet; the one after that.� That one.� No gel or anything.� Just… hair.� Simple.� I think it’s cute.� Am I a pervert?� No, not in that sense.

When Meredith finishes her Rules of Dating, I’ll post them.� My favourite:
“I don’t want to talk about your unending knowledge of dragons or your massive collection of polyester shirts with flames on them.”� Haha.� I love it.� So funny.

Speaking of dragons, In English the other day, we had to draw a picture of what we thought�Grendel from Beowulf�looked like that.� Finished, mine looked a hell of alot like Trogdor.� Except he had a tatoo.� I’ll try to scan it and show everyone.

“Cat on cat action.”
- Emily

Oh yeah, I decided I -am- going to prom.� *grumbles*.� But I’m going with Michael Chappelle, so I’ll have fun fun fun.� He’s a good kid.� This will be my first prom date ever who won’t try to get in my pants.� We have to go shopping together though… our dresses have to coordinate, afterall.

I have no idea when I have rehearsal tonight.

So in conclusion, I’m a narcissistic toast painter.� Must come with the name, eh Liz? : )

Not the toast painting part.� But it would be super if the other Liz painted toast as well.