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.
So last night, I had this funny dream where I was watching a concert at this wave pool, and there were many stoners. I needn’t worry about my safety though, because Gary Coleman and Emanuel Lewis were my body guards, following me around with guns and whatnot.
So Terrance trimmed and thinned my hair the other day. I saved all the remnants from the thinning and formed them into a huge ball. I did this for the birds, you know. They like using our hair to make nests. Especially pretty orange hair. Anywho, this is the ball:
So I can’t freaking believe this shit. I’m missing Dr. Phil because I can’t work the damn damn television.
Edit: Matt helped me figure it out. Too bad I missed the good half of it. Anyway, tomorrow is anorexics. Should bring back funtime memories. Mammories. Should make me feel very good or very bad about self.