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New and improved queenalisha.com. Ch-ch-ch-ch- changes.

Exibit C

Here is yet another reason why cats are straight from the devil. The prosecution rests. For now.

For Amy

The following is an entry from my oooold Live journal blog dated October 27th, 2003. Amy and I were talking about it the other day and I thought it was worth dredging up again, just for her.

On saturday I went to a Built To Spill show at the Big easy. In general I don't enjoy the Big easy because I am paranoid about fire breaking out ala Great White. It's usually pretty packed with no clear path to the exits. This saturday, however, I was too busy being rocked to care about a silly little thing like asphyxiation due to smoke inhalation or being trampled. Built To Spill played a show the likes of wich have not been seen in at least three years. The were ending their six week tour by playing a hometown show. It was chock full of the old stuff and the ended with a twenty minute jam at the end of a cortez the killer cover. I heart Doug Martch.
The topper of the night though was for sure the goats. The goats? you say, is this some new band? Some new indie rock ear candy? Alas, no. They were real goats. Five of them. Being hauled down state street in the back of a trailer at midnight on a saturday. I was right behind them as I pulled into the Burger King ( you know those goats will eat anything) to pick up some french fries for Ryan. But wait! there's more. It gets better! As I am sitting there in the drive through wondering about the kind of guy who would parade his goats around town on a saturday night ( big date perhaps) , one of the goats gets up and starts gettin' it on with another goat. I KNOW!!! I though it had to be some kind of joke, but it seemed to be real. Of course, all I could think to say was Fucking Goats. Comedy gold.
Max (the four year old) just told me that if he poops a lot he could make a poop mountain. Go Max. we've all got to have a dream.
All Hail-

Yeah, Yeah... Slog. You wanna make somethin' of it?

OK. Here's the thing. I've neglected you. You know it, I know it. Let's just move on from here and never speak of this again.

So. Did you watch the Britney interview on Dateline tonight? I don't even know where to start with this. Seriously. With all the people who must have been in that room you would think that one of them would have mentioned that A) her boob was hanging out or B) she had a huge glob of mascara stuck on her eyelid or C) spit out the gum or D) DUDE! Seriously! The boobs! We can see them! I mean, if you are going on teevee to tell the world that you are not a redneck and come on y'all you're a good mom and you're not as fucked up as the tabloids try to make you out to be? Probably? you should like, run a comb through your hair or something. Check a mirror, Brit.

Anyway, it's late. I'll write more tomorrow. I have plenty to tell. Pinky swear.

Freying

Freying (v):

Relating a story that is mostly lies, but is also anchored in the most minimal of truths.

Let's get this party started

Posted by Ryan

Dude, seriously. I am hereby coining a new phrase, and it is called "slogging." Slogging refers to a state of existence defined by the formula lastBlogEntry >= today - 90 days.

Let me help you narrowly avoid slogging by posting the following thoughts:

* If ever we are attacked by rabid tennis balls, our dog Cinder will surely protect us by slowly and steadily devouring each attacking ball

* Favorite question of the day, directed to the Bro Bros: What was your favorite present that your brother got?

I know, I know.

I'm very sorry. It seems that in order for me to be a successful blogger, there needs to be a balance in my life between enough going on that I have something interesting to say, but not so much going on that I don't have time to sit here and tell you about it. Fortunatly for you it has been the latter that has kept me away. Having said that I am working on uploading some photos to Flickr so you can have a pictorial overview of my summer and a really, really long forthcoming post. Meanwhile, I have to go to the store to buy more tooth fairy supplies...Max has lost two teeth in as many days. I promise to tell the story as soon as I get home.

patience is virtue.....

Guest Post From Ryan

Presidential warning:
Overheard on NPR: I swear to God, he said "The terrorists are amassing in Labia...er, Lybia!"

If that is the case, this is no time to pull out.

Jason says that if we can assume past logic as a guide to the future, this means we will also send troops to Uranus.

I've had a crazy week.

I won't get into all the drama here because I like you and I want you to stay, plus I'm tired. Let's just say that I am looking extra forward to my birthday party on saturday. You're all invited. Sometimes when I am in a bad mood and I need a little cheering up, I like haiku. Not cheesy haiku about birds and clouds and gentle streams and cherry blossoms and what have you but about stuff. Ordinary stuff. So. Because I have been in a bad mood and because my birthday is on saturday I would like some haiku. Just so you know, the formula for haiku is three lines; 5 syllables in the first, 7 in the second and five in the last. I expect full participation, people. Don't disappoint me.
Here is a list of possible subjects:

Cheetos
your favorite television show
a movie you have seen recently
a favorite article of clothing
the harmonica
oppressive heat
Ann Coulter is an asshat

I'll start:

This church is sticky
a holy place bedeviled
fuck you God damn bees

Thank you.

This is me not sleeping

It's two in the morning. Usually if I'm up this late I have a good reason, like I just got home from the bar or something. Not tonight though. I'm not sure if I have insomnia...maybe it's contagious. Maybe it's because it's been hotter than the blazing sun and impossible to get comfortable cozied next to two fuzzy beings. I am betting that it's because I just have too much to think about lately. I'm in the middle of about six projects right now. Three, no wait four, of which are immediate and the other two are looming. Friday is Max's birthday. YAY!! BIRTHDAY!! He'll be six. I could go off on a whole freak out about that but I'll save it for Friday. Then on Saturday I am finally getting around to having that yard sale. Pain. In. The. Ass. Plus, Cinder is in obedience training so I have been spending a lot of time working with her on stuff. It's totally paying off. I'm currently teaching her to pull weeds. And last, but most certainly not least Next weekend is MY BIRTHDAY!!!!! I love my birthday. I don't dread getting older because it means it's my birthday and there is nothing better than birthdays. My delicious friend Amy and I always throw ourselves a big party because our birthday's are a week apart. Every year we have a theme and this year's theme is Federline. You know, like brit and Kev, y'all. It'll be sweet. Check your mail box for your invitation. They are forthcoming. And rad.

And now for something completely different. Can we please talk for a minute about Day's of our Lives? What the hell is going on over there? First of all, who do they think they are kidding? Marlena? Pregnant? Really? Isn't she, like, 70? Even in daytime TV land her grandson is about 15. Gimmie a break. And as long as were talking about pregnancy and the elderly I would just like to say that all the geriatric love going on lately between John and Marlena and Kate and Roman and John and Kate and Marlena and Roman is making me a little ill. Please, day's writers. Don't you know I just had lunch?

Well. I suppose I should try to sleep now. Busy weekend coming up and I promised the boys and the girl across the street that I would take them to the zoo tomorrow. I hope I don't drop dead in front of the tiger cages due to heat stroke. Keep your fingers crossed. Also, come buy my crap at the yard sale. AND somebody please think of a joke for the bee story. It's driving me crazy. OK. brain turn off now. Gah.