mr hay: I...(swim) MUST...(swim) LOOK...(swim) GOOD...(swim) FOR THE LADIES
elizabitch: AHAHAHA
elizabitch: dude, going on my blog
elizabitch: (:
mr hay: he was motivated, so you know he's gonna get there. and the lady polar bears will be like, coca cola? i need me some polar cola
elizabitch: ahahahah
elizabitch: you're an ass (:

man, the zoo rules. there's a baby giraffe and it's like A COMPLETE MINI GIRAFFE. and it came out and stood around for a minute all 'ok, here's the floor show, where's my goddamn roughage' and then wandered off.

also, manta rays rule even when they don't splash on your side of the pool. even if they would be better suited for a horror movie.

ok, last thing. best way to be the most recognizable chick at a moderately busy airport? be the most emo person in the whole building, without even meaning to. but don't tell everyone that, or you'll be only one of many emo persons. then my trick won't work!

wokka wokka wokka!

man, i always hated fozzie the most. well, he was tied with skeeter and scooter. what stupid names.

goddamn muppet babies. i think i watched every episode of that show. nanny's socks! rolf on the piano! it's trouble, i'm telling you.

either that or i have issues.

whoa, the blogger interface looks weird

i'm not dead, y'all!

we don't die, we mulitply!

um, hm. don't have too many interesting stories. i got some neat new shoes today. i can't find them on the target website, though.

oh, and i'm on probation at work, so there's that.

um, i've left this up for like half an hour. nothing interesting at all, i guess.

dear mr hay,

if you would check your email, i'd be much obliged.

damn macintoshes.

so the weird thing about being in a computer lab is that i wonder if anyone will recognize the blogger interface. hey, they'll say, that's blogger!

but i live in a less than wired city. so probably not.

how are y'all? you should all email me and say 'lizzy you are so delightful and charming! how are you!'

because in spite of everything, i'm good. :)

hey, you know what's funny? it cost me forty cents just to tell you guys hello.

don't say i never did nothin for ya!

and here's where i say: every day with you is like a little miracle.

(i promised you i'd update)

dear eminem song,

why must i love you so? i must get you out of my system before someone comes to visit.

i just downloaded you, you know. on my mama's computer.

get mean! make me not love you, eminem song!

love lizzy

ps, that thing you heard about mbp and i flashing truckers on the road trip home? NOT TRUE. so don't believe them when they say it.

hi.
ok.

i'm not ashamed of being poor. i need to say that right out. i don't have a lot of money because i have chosen to go to school. that's fine. i've learned tricks and things i need to do to get by, i've had a fuckload of jobs. there have been times i worked seventy hours a week. it's hard but i do what i have to do.

and that's why i really don't fucking like it when i get fucked up the ass because i'm poor.

when i moved into my apartment building i found out that the phone was included. it was crazy! i've never lived in a building like that before. i was on a switchboard system, making things um, well, IMPOSSIBLE if i chose to have another phone.

fast forward six months. last saturday, people trying to call my house heard that my phone was disconnected. crazy! i told them (when i called) because it's not like i have a bill to pay, there's something wrong with the box. and then came wednesday, when the phone just died. couldn't call out, couldn't call in.

and then i find out that the landlord has decided that he just doesn't want to pay for the phone for the building anymore.

um, excuse me? in the middle of the month, right? after an entire building full of people paid their rent? when phone was included in that rent, right? i want to make sure i'm getting this straight. i want to make sure it's clear that this guy just stole my money. i'm living in a building, after all, where one day i get a knock on the door and it's the fucking police asking if i heard anything the night before since they'd FOUND A MAN DEAD that morning and they were taking my neighbor away. you'd think i might want some fucking 911 service.

and i know i know i shouldn't bitch about not having a non-essential service like a phone. and i'm coming at this from a privleged view because i have a computer in the first place (gone home for the weekend, eh, at my parents' house) but the fact is i just got ripped off and i'm pissed about it. i have rights too, no matter that i can't pay for the privilege.

i'm pissed and i'm not afraid and you know what? i'm not going to shut the fuck up. this asshole messed with the wrong person this time.



so i call the landlord tenant hotline, to make sure of my rights. and, well, the asshole could have just sent us all a letter a month ago, letting us know that the phone was no longer included. THAT'S THE LEGAL WAY OF DOING THINGS. but instead, because i live in a low income neighborhood (where mbp and i are the only students in our building; there are lots of families) the owner of my building decided he could just perform a massive ass-fucking.

but i'm not afraid to insist on my rights. i know so many of my neighbors are used to being treated this way. but i've been fucked over for the last time.

hah. for once, i woke up not pissed off.

whee.

i can't stop listening to this new eminem song.

can't.

have you ever had itchy skin because lightning struck the goddamn door of the room you happened to be sitting in?

no?

i should count myself lucky, i guess. another girl at work was messing with the stereo and it made her tongue stud buzz.

scary!

augh, kept waking up last night. then i heard a horrendous crash. got too scared to go look, but i figured no one could have broken in.

this morning a full ashtray was knocked over about six feet from where i'd left it. it was spooky.

i really wish someone who shall remain nameless hadn't gotten me hooked on portal of evil. because, really, did i have to ever know about boytaurs? i mean, come on now.

also: listen to moldy peaches' anyone else but you, 200 times. :)

it rains!

:)

rackin frackin. wtf is wrong with my phone? i can call out just fine, but when people call me they get a disconnected notice.

dude, my phone can't be disconnected. it's part of the rent, see? i have to dial nine to get out and shit.

damnit, wtf. gotta go find my landlady.

i took this quiz (warning, full of lots of spammy goodness and hoops to jump through, but hey, i was bored) to uh, find the best places for me to live.

me to mbp: damn, i'm gonna be pissed if it says albuquerque.

but it didn't.

my top five:
milwaukee, wisconsin
portland, oregon
baltimore, maryland
chicago, illinois
gaithersburg, maryland

so that was okay. :)

so i went to the schlev. what did i leave with? beer, milk, and a liter of water.

what? i'm THIRSTY.

:)

oh my god. this 82 year old lady had a boatload of plastic surgery and, my god, she does NOT LOOK EIGHTY TWO.

(via obscure store and reading room)

Do you feel that a woman public speaker must always wear a hat? M.M., Oakland, California

Not necessarily. She doesn't wear one if she is in evening clothes. In many quite urban communities, where hatlessness is a matter of choice, I've seen many distunguished women speakers without hats. In very small communities, which tend to be conservative in this matter, it is probably well for the speaker to wear a hat in order to avoid criticism. It should not be the kind that will shade her face or distract the audience, however. Any arrangement of a veil, flowers, or perhaps a velvet ribbon bow would be quite acceptable.

- Amy Vanderbilt's everyday etiquette, 1956.

dear body,

i know when i pull a triple whammy and take away cigarettes, caffeine and carbohydrates, you get a little cranky. but we'll both feel better in a few days if you don't make me kill something first.

yours,
elizabitch

four am is rotten.

ok, if you read MeFi then you are contractually obligated to read this post from Tamim.

if there was ever a job for 'professional bullshit caller' i would insist tam got it.

added some pictures to the photo album. password's still GIMME. still can't figure out how to link to a picture with one that doesn't expire. there's a guestbook, apparently? so y'all should sign it.

and, of course, it's pictures of my mug again. i'm gonna go take some pics of malibu stacy or something, just so y'all can stalk in style.

we've seen some real hard times
and i hope the hardest are behind
but there will be times when it will seem
like we are caught someplace in between
the ocean and the storm
without a shore
we'll find our own way home
and sing out every song we know
no one can keep us down
and who gives a fuck what anybody says
we'll live and love until we're dead
holding on to what we've come to know
and on and on and on and on
and every time you hear this song
be sure you are not alone

-our own way, hot water music.

the last time i saw him was at my one and only hwm show. i was tipsy, i'd been playing croquet all day, watching boys shotgun beers and laughing laughing laughing. we'd had a good time. and then i went to the show by myself, i love hot water music so much, i didn't care, i still don't. i was certain i'd see people i knew.

i saw brian.

i honesttogod gasped when i saw him; i've only done that twice. he was so thin, he was on a cane, but he looked good. i hugged him, once, and the music was so loud. 'how are you?' i asked in his ear, and he nodded. he smiled.

it's fucking shitty, you know? i can say so much about having to face my own mortality and how i wasn't ready to lose someone my own age, how it's weird and strange and how it leaves this gaping hole in my heart, how i wish i'd done things differently. but when i think of those things, it's not the spectre of death and leukemia. it's the fact that he's gone, and i didn't get to tell him goodbye.

he told me once, 'you guys never treated me any differently.' and he was so glad for that. it makes me cry, even now. to think of it, to think that he'd even have to worry about that, to hear him say that in his quiet little voice. i never treated him any differently because it never occured to me to do that. he was my friend, sick or not.

i miss him.

it's been two years, now, since the shock and the fright, having that godawful party and hearing james say 'oh i went to brian's funeral today.' shoving brian c, screaming, 'why didn't you tell me?' he didn't know either. we both sat quietly on my front porch, on the edge of the flowerbed, listening to the whoops and screams from the backyard. colleen and laura and i clinging to one another, sobbing, wishing everyone would just go. the. fuck. home.

that's when i stopped going to shows, you know, stopped going all the time. stopped hanging out with boys in punk rock bands and scamming my way into a scene i kind of hated.

i won't see hot water music again.

and when i listen to that song? i'm not alone.

who wants to.... give me a job!

my skillz are: being delightful and charming.

my greatest weakness is that i'd probably be late to my own funeral.

come ONNNNN. y'all hookers.

hey, i'm a saucy tart!

you bring light in

ugh, yeah. i've just about talked myself out of calling in sick.

ok, ok, i'm going.

for real.

mr. hay: remember count chocula?
lizzy: dude
lizzy: yeah
lizzy: ehehe
mr. hay: count jockula would be the vampire for gay men
* lizzy LAUGHS
lizzy: count um
lizzy: mockula, for those who happen to be irony-imparired
mr. hay: do not step into his haunted freeweight gymnasium
lizzy: ehehehe
mr. hay: count fuckyoulots, which is the porn version of count dracula
lizzy: AHAHHA
lizzy: this is going on my blog, sir
mr. hay: hehehe

nothing is too weird or kinky for mr. hay!

(had to inaugurate the name, you know.)