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.
