we few. we happy few

O God of battles!
steel my soldiers' hearts;

Possess them not with fear;

Take from them now
The sense of reckoning,
if the opposed numbers
pluck their hearts from them.

Not today, O Lord,
O, not oday.

Think not upon the fault..

--William Shakespeare's Henry V


i mean, who does this?

I'm having a conversation with my girlfriend, Anita.

I've got a Feeling as if tonight is The Night. Finally, after nights of just mild quease, a little ewy gooey feeling in the pit of my stomach - Tonight I might just barf.

Thinking about the prospect I blurt out, "Can you imagine being sick for weeks on end, months even? What horrors!"

Anita sagely reminds me, AS THEY ALL DO (inhumane sadists) that *sweet sigh*, "Liz, simply everyone does it."

Five words missy:


She did this 11 times, count, E-le-ven!! (twice with twins) and look at her. I mean, she's mad as a hatter!
Obviously, I LIKE mad as a hatter and I sure as hell wouldn't change a thing about dear mother, but I know she didna start out like that. No. She was obviously a pleasant wee teenager before she first started producing young and I can only surmise, was badly affected by this sickness.

I'm not going to go on, bitching and moaning about it because I don't want to look like a wimp and shame myself before all the other mothering and lactating women out there but by Golly! I hope it quits before I start wandering the streets, crazy eyed and drooling. Desperately trying to contain the bile that tries to escape while my clawed fingers scratch at my belly as the Beast/Foetus within snarls to be fed.

I smell peanut butter cookies. Hi ho!


Weirdy Beardy

The guys have sworn not to shave their faces until the recording is done. The result is some hairy men. Have a look:

Justin Spirit

Tony Marky Buckle


Look forward to the progress they'll have made on them come Wordstock.


A custom job for Tony's Jazz Fender Bass.


the Cat out of the Hat

There comes a time in the lives of all humans when ahh...when ahh..ahhh


I'm reminded of a little poem I heard so many times as a kid that it embedded itself indelibly into my impressionable and mushy brain:

"Somebody said that it couldn't be done
So she with a chuckle replied:
That, Maybe It Couldn't.
But she wouldn't say so till she tried.

So she buckled right in with a bit of a grin;)
She just took off her coat and Went To It.
She started to sing as she tackled the thing
That Couldn't Be Done and....


In case you didn't pick up the Reeeally subtle undertones there (sheesh) I'll just spill it:

I'm told I'm with child.

This is pretty hardcore for me. First thot in anyones mind who knows me is generally, "Who ever trusted Liz with a kid?"

Well I'll show you scoffers.
I'll show all you all...

Wish me luck, yes?


Just a little stunted

I've got no internet and no phone for the time being.

(Public Library)

Don't feel neglected.


Send this to 10 people AT ONCE or DIE of painful disembowlment

Is it just me or does this tagging thing seem suspiciously like chain mail?? CRAZY!
Although, I'm glad it was Jer that tagged me because, as you all know, I'm his biggest fan or vice versa;)

But the buck stops here:

1. The ability to tell a joke.
2. The ability to take a joke (maybe even do some jumping jacks with it).
3. A mad tomcat in the sack.
4. Smells like sweet, sweet roses.
5. Is ticklish.
6. Does not have a barking laugh.
7. A hairy chest.
8. Sex. Good. Me. Bad. (did I already cover that?)

I'm plumb tuckered out from all that mental scrumaging and who really knows anyways? Next week I might take a sudden fancy to a pot-bellied black midget with a tongue piercing. Run away with me, baby! Yeeah!

p.s. Lovin you, brutha.