Monday Bear

So after discovering that I’m a bird, lion, bunny, and a Canadian, I’ve decided to grow a fur coat. Actually, I just haven’t shaved my legs in two weeks. I’ll do it tomorrow. Maybe.

Speaking of fur coat, mom and I went shopping for things for my dorm room last night. We had about 5 different rugs on the floor of Target, stepping on them barefoot to see how each of them felt. There was this one that was really really furry, like a bear rug.
Liz: I don’t like this one. It feels creepy.
Mom: Yeah, it’s like walking on Matt’s back.

: ( Now that’s hitting below the belt. So I smacked her with my bag. (more…)

So I’ve realized that pretty much anyone can be put into four categories:

• Bird
• Dinosaur
• Bunny
• Turtle

Most everyone go into one of those categories. Zephyr goes into the bird category, as does my mummie. Matt’s a bunny. …Turtle boy, as you have read in previous posts, is a turtle. Seth Johnson’s little brother is a dinosaur, and I’ve thought so every since elementary school (Mark, I know you’ll love that one, you also dinosaur, you). Holly is a fish, though. A beautiful fish, like the one on Fantasia.
What aminal do I look like? (more…)

So I understand that most people don’t really like pooping at work. On the contrary, when I had a job, I loved pooping at work, because, seriously, where else can you get paid to poop?

But I think it helped that -I- was the one who bought the TP most of the time, and I never bought that John Wayne toilet paper that’s rough, tough, and won’t take shit from anyone.

I forgot to write a few weeks ago when I got a postcard from my SOA (or should I say, SOB) from CUSTOMS/ Freshman Orientation. In wretched handwriting and red marker ink, it reads:

(more…)

So I had the craziest dream last night. There was this huuuge party– Matt was there, his Mama was there, some big huge black guy was there, Cactus was there, and then a bunch of other people were there. We were doing lots of drugs, booze, and sexin’. Well just two of us were sexin’. (Me and Matt, FYI). But then the cops came, so the black guy took all of our drugs and put them atop this flag pole, so the cops couldn’t find them. Then, to cause a distraction, I threw my fancy bracelet on the tile floor. It broke into a million pieces, and then Mama started yelling at me and calling me stupid. Then the cop partied with us. He didn’t do any drugs, he just boozed.

So do you like my new banner? Matthew did it for me. He’s a genius. Click on the “Monday Bear”. (more…)

So I was just down to my skivvies, shimmying my way to cardio health, when my mom’s friend comes in. Just as I was beginning to really enjoy my new Cardio Fitness Bellydancing DVD, I’m interrupted by an unwelcome guest. And what does she say? “Put some clothes on, girl!” Right. I’ll put some clothes on if you wash the dishes. Then she has the huevos to make fun of my choice of fitness. Hey, fatso, at least I exercise. Competitive hotdog eating doesn’t count as a sport, by the way.

So if any of you haven’t realized, when I disappear for a week at a time, I’m usually with Matt. It’s that damn love and cuddling and sex and blackhead- picking that keeps me away from my blogging. And I thank all of you who sents me birfday wishes/ presents. I’ll get back to you soon. ish. And you’ll all be bloglisted. Soon. Not tonight. But soon. (more…)

So I’m babysitting right now. Four of them. My usual three, plus a 5 year old smartass. I finally got them to lie down. I put on Harry Potter and put two of them in time out. It’s been a really rough day for all of us, obviously.

I hate it when people say “needless to say”. If it’s needless to say, then why say it?
People always said “needless to say” in those Most Embarrassing Moments things in Seventeen Magazine. Remember?

I also hate it when people say “I could care less.” It really should be “I couldn’t care less.” Because if you could care less, then you actually do care a little bit.

Really, I just wish that people would think about what their expressions mean before speaking them. (more…)

So I just got back from my grandparents’ house in Mississippi. Whenever we went out in public, to everyone we came across, my grandmother would say, “This is my granddaughter. She come to visit us from Tennessee.”
“Great. We have more trees,” said the guy from the grocery store, who according to Gramma, couldn’t take his eyes off of me.
That made their… year, probably. Nobody ever comes to see them, which is precisely why I drove the 180 miles to go there. I got a big ego boost while I was there. Grandparents are always proud of their grandchildren. Especially when they live in Saltillo, MS. I’m going to college, haven’t been knocked up, I’m not on drugs, and I’m not fat.
That’s why Gramma kept saying that guys were looking at me. I doubt they were. I’m not attractive when I’m in Mississippi. Nobody is. The grocery store dude could have been looking at me for several reasons: (more…)