Saturday, May 26, 2007

It's too late to do any good, but here it is anyway.

Things that I want
1. I want a monkey sippy cup but only because it rightfully belongs to me.
2. I want an ink pen that I can write in the dark with so I can write in the dark and see what I'm writing in the dark.
3. I want a dictionary of all the words that I know the spelling and meanings of so I can impress people while not really knowing anything.
4. More hair on my head but only on parts where it isn't growing, and also on my legs, because there is very little, and I hate it when people bring it up.
5. An end to world peace and more hunger throughout the world.
6. Tap shoes because even though I can't ... I was born to dance.
7. I want a list of names of all the girls and women who didn't tell me that they had crushes on me when I was too dumb to realize that they did.
8. Some other stuff, but I'm getting very sleepy and tired and you know my mind is starting to wander and stuff, and maybe I should end this list at eight instead of the usual ten.
9. A new letter of the alphabet named after me or maybe they could just change the letter z to the letter boz. That would be okay with me.
10. To be the bozziest boz of all the boz's anywhere, any time, and any place, except in the Maritime provinces of Canada.

Friday, May 25, 2007

The start of another short story I will never complete. Assuaging Fears

Mildred, is that you?

Yes, it's me.

But your name isn't Mildred, it's Merle.

Yes, I know.

Then why did you answer when I called your Mildred?

Because the 911 manual says we should try to assuage any fears that a caller might have.

But I'm not afraid.

Then why did you call 911?

Good question.

Thank you, I scored a 90% on the question asking part of the 911 Operators Exam.

Is that a good score?

Yes, it was the second highest score in my class.

Who scored the highest?

Some woman named Mildred.

Maybe that's why you answered when I called you Mildred. Maybe it was some kind of Freudian response.

Or it could have been Jungian.

Yes, I meant to say Jungian.

I wonder what Freud would say about that?

I'm more concerned about what Jung would say about it.
What did the manual say?

I don't know, I was on break, I haven't had a chance to look at the manual.

You took a break in the middle of a 911 call?

Yes, I had no choice it's a union regulation.

I wish I belonged to a union like that.

So do I.

You aren't a member of the union?

No, I haven't been a 911 operator long enough to join the union.

How long have you been a 911 operator.

Counting today?

Yes, counting today.

One day.

One day?

Yes, one day. As a matter of fact, you are my first call.

That might explain why you have to check the manual so often.

Yes, that might explain it.

What else could possibly explain it?

I don't know. I'm new here. Let me check the manual. Please hold.

Thursday, May 24, 2007

And as always the voice of my conscience was played by Frank Sinatra, is that how you spell conscience?

Psssst, hey Boz, you there?

Uhhh, yeah. Hold on, I just got an email.

Ok, sure.


Who was the email from?

No one, it was spam. So, what do you want?

Nothing much, I was just wondering what you've been doing lately.

Hmmmm, well, I've been reading a lot. I'm on my fourth book this month. I think this month.

Oh yeah, I read your posts about the first three. What are you reading now?

I'm reading Closing Time by Joesph Heller.

He's the guy who wrote Catch-22 isn't he?

Yeah, he did. This is a sequel written in perspective some 35 to 40 years later.

Do you even know what perspective means?

No, but it makes that sentence flow, doesn't it.

I suppose so. What else is going on?

Wait a second. Don't you want to hear about the book I'm reading?

Ummm, yeah, I guess so.

Let's see, belle sent it to me because she felt guilty about sending me a copy of Catch-22 that she had written in and highlighted.


Yeah, you know belle, the hypochondriac who used to have a blog and sort of disappeared who only shows up every once in awhile to tell me what she had for lunch and that she is sure she is about to die from eye cancer, or knee cancer, or ear cancer, or that blood is flowing out of some orifice in her body that usually isn't associated with blood flow.

Oh, that belle. Go on.

Go on where?

Go on telling me about the book that belle sent you.

That's it, I'm done.

I thought you were going to review the book.

Why would I do that?

Are you actually reading the book?

No, not right at this minute, but I was reading it a half hour ago. Yossarian and his son are talking about Dante, and that was kind of boring, so I put it down, and watched a French movie for about five minutes, and then I came in here, hahaha, came in here ... NOT!!!

Anything else?

Anything else what???

Are you doing anything else that might be interesting.

I started another diet. JESUS FUCK!!!

What happened???

The wind just blew my bedroom door shut and it scared the Jesus Fuck out of me.

You say fuck a lot, don't you.

I write it more than I say it. I usually only say it when I'm alone.

If you say fuck while you're alone are you actually saying it?

Huh? Oh, if a tree falls in the woods yadda yadda yadda, I get it.
I'm going to go check out the basketball game on Channel 73. I'll catch you later.

Hey ...



Later then.

(Hmmmm, I wonder where Boz keeps all his good porn.)

The start of another short story I will never complete. The Shorter of the Two Men

The shorter of the two men was wearing khaki work pants and boots.
He was not wearing a shirt and he was very tan.
He kept yelling at the taller of the two men, but I couldn't make out what he was yelling because my bedroom window was closed.
I considered getting up and opening the window, but I thought they might stop if they heard me, and how would I explain that to Merle the 911 operator.
Just then I heard someone on the other end of the phone.

Hey, it's not like that, I've got something in my eye ... honest.

I have a confession to make.
I just finished watching the movie Boys on the Side with Whoppi Goldberg, Mary Louise Parker and Drew Barrymore.
No, the confession isn't that I watched the movie.
The confession I have to make is ...
I almost ...
I kind of ...
I sort of ...
Ok, I might have teared up a little bit when Mary Louise Parker died.
I mean why does it always have to be Mary Louise Parker who dies?
Why couldn't it have been Whoppi Goldberg, I never liked Whoppi Goldberg, and to be honest with you, I almost didn't watch the movie because Whoppi Goldberg was in it, and if it had been Whoppi Goldberg who died, it wouldn't have phased me a bit, and maybe if it had been Drew Barrymore that died, well, I'm sure I would have gotten sad at least until the closing credits had finished rolling, but I would have gotten over it, but ...
I think I'll go to bed now, and pretend that Mary Louise Parker didn't die, and that we met at a party somewhere, and our eyes met, and there was a certain spark, and we fell in love, and got married, or at least decided to live together, and then we lived happily ever after with neither of us ever dying again.

Mary Louise Parker, hopefully not dying.

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Iri my dearie

Kat forwarded this email to me.

The email

Good day, my gentleman

Do you agree with me that love is like a good wine which you want to drink more and more? I am in search of my second half who will enjoy this love-drink with me the whole life. I found you here and would not like to lose you again.
I know that we are strangers for each other, but I want to believe that time will pass and we will become native souls for each other. If you are single at present time and your heart is free, if you believe in our future love, I will wait for your letter every day

Waiting for your response


My response

Good day my email hotness,

I think that love is more like a six pack of Budwiser, the more you drink the more you want and when you wake up you swear you will never do it again. I know what you are thinking, and yes, I am a poet.

Ooooh, I want to taste of your love-drink until I cannot hold my breath for any longer than another second or two.

We are only strangers until we are not strangers anymore and our native souls meld into a nice gooey heap of love.

Yes oh yes my darling Iri, my heart is free, and so is my throbbing nine and a half inch organ.

Wait no more, my response is on it's way.

Your soon to be native soul
Milo Minderbender II

The start of another short story I will never complete. The Taller of the Two Men

I turned my attention back to the two men fighting in the street outside my bedroom window.
They both looked to be in their mid-thirties.
They were old enough that they should have know better.
They were young enough that they thought they still should.
I didn't recognize either of them.
The taller of the two men was thin and pale with sandy brown hair.
He was wearing a powder blue t-shirt and a pair of what we used to call gym shorts.
He was also wearing the gaudiest pair of yellow running shoes that I had ever seen.
He looked like he could of have been any of the myriad number of joggers that used the street outside my bedroom window as part of their approximately five mile jogging route that took them around the lake and back into town every weekend morning, afternoon, and early evening.
He was definitely a tourist.

The start of another short story I will never complete. A Fait Accompli

He knew he was in love as soon as she said she was much to pretty to be a lesbian.
To be more precise, he knew he was in love as soon as she asked him to please hold the first time.
He knew that some things were just a fait accompli, and this had been one of them.

Merle, are you there?

Yes, I'm here.


Yes, can I help you?

Merle, may I have your phone number?

You already have my phone number.

I do?

Yes, you do silly. It's 9-1-1. Remember you called me.

Oh, that's right, I did call you.

I thought you did. I mean why would I call you. You were the one with a problem, not me.

Yes, I did call you. It was about the two men fighting in the street outside my bedroom window, wasn't it?

No, it's about the two men that we're assuming were fighting outside your bedroom window.

Of course, how could I have forgotten?

Is that a question or are you just musing?

It was a rhetorical question.

Should I answer it then?

No, rhetorical questions don't require answers.

I wasn't sure. Rhetorical questions aren't covered in the manual.

Are you sure?

I thought I was sure. Let me check one more time to make sure that I am sure.

Should I hold?

Yes, I'm going to check my manual, please hold.

In the summer of 69

A barely 19 year old Airman Boz pretending to shine his boots in the upper bay of barracks #2004, the 3392nd Student Squadron, Keesler AFB, Mississippi.

Photo Hosted at Buzznet

Here is a comment left on buzznet concerning this picture.
"Boz you were a hottie back in the day. I bet you stole all the hearts!"
Unfortunately for me the comment was made by one of my gay buzznet friends.

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

If I knew what my ASL was do you think I'd be here?

What am I doing up at three in the morning?
My eyes are glazed over.
My ears are ringing.
My legs, my arms, my feet, me heels, my fingers, my torsos, my shoulders, my ears, I already said my ears, my nostrils, my bald spots, and my Grey's Anatomy's all hurt.

I'm hungry, so I'm going to bed, so that I won't break the diet that I've already broken once since I started it earlier tonight.

Monday, May 21, 2007

The start of another short story I will never complete. What the Manual Says.

Hello, this is Merle, thanks for holding.

Your name is Merle?

Yes, my name is Merle.

I thought Merle was a man's name.

It is for the most part, but there are some woman named Merle, me for instance, and Merle Oberon the actress who was considered one of the most beautiful women in the world.

But wasn't she a lesbian?

No, she was much too pretty to be a lesbian.

And what about you?

What do you mean what about me?

Are you too pretty to be a lesbian.

Yes, despite my somewhat manly voice I am way too pretty to be a lesbian.

I have nothing against lesbians by the way.

Neither do I.

What did your manual say about slapping and kicking as it pertains to fighting.

It didn't say anything.

Where does that leave us?

I guess it's up to me.

Up to you for what?

To decide if slapping and kicking are fighting.

And is it?

For arguments sake let's assume that slapping and kicking are fighting.

I can certainly assume that.

Fine, let's assume that slapping and kicking are fighting. What do you want me to do?

I was hoping you could send someone out to break up what we are both assuming to be a fight between the two men in the street outside my bedroom window.

Who would I send out?

The police???

Can I do that?

You're the 911 operator, you tell me.

Let me check my manual. Please hold.

The start of another short story I will never complete. The Call to 911.

911, how may I assist you?

There are two men fighting in the street outside my bedroom window.

Are you in any immediate danger?

Not unless one of them has a key to my house.

Do either of them have a key to your house?

I don't know, let me ask them.


They didn't answer they are too busy slapping and kicking at each other.

Slapping and kicking? I thought you said they were fighting.

Yes, that's what I said, two men are fighting in the street outside my bedroom window. Doesn't slapping and kicking constitute a fight?

I don't know. I'll have to check my manual. Please hold.

Why can't all the pretty looking girls in the world live without me?

Email from another pretty girl.

Hello my dear friend
I was looking through theb web few weeks ago and found
your profile. Now bI decided to emaibl you to get to knowb
yoau better. I am coming tao your country in few waeeks
and thought may be we can meet each other. I am pretty
looking girl. I am 25. Do not reply to this addressa
directly. Email me back at

My Reply:

Hey Merle, won't you be my girl?

Hello my dear friend Merle,
Are you a boy or are you a girl ... lol, I am kidding on you. I know you are a girl because you said you are. You see. In my country Merle is mostly either a man's name or a lesbian's name, and I bet you are too pretty to be a lesbian (wink, wink). Don't get me wrong, I like lesbians, but just not in that way, because that way would be foolish because they are lesbians. I hope I am not confusing you. I am a sociologist, is that how you spell that, and I study things like lesbians, I'm not saying that lesbians are things, they are people just like the rest of us, only they like girls instead of boys. HEY!!! I think I am a lesbian too, because I like girls instead of boys. lololololo ... l.
Oh Merle, whenever I think of you it reminds me of that song Okie from Musgogee by Merle Haggard. Perhaps when you come to my area and visit me and we make a Love Connection that can be OUR SONG.
I must close now, I am meeting a group of lesbians for a business lunch. I won't tell them that your name is Merle because I don't want them to hit on you.
Yours truly,
Dr Butch Patrick PHD
PS. I love the way you type. You are such a grammatical rebel!!!

Sunday, May 20, 2007

The start of another short story I will never complete.

I put down the book I was reading and looked out my bedroom window. There were two men fighting in the middle of the street. It was clear that neither of them knew how to fight. They flailed a lot, and they kicked a lot, but any contact they made was glancing, and caused little damage except to make them flail and kick even more furiously.

If they knew how to fight I probably wouldn't have called 911, but there is nothing I hate worse than ineptitude in any form, and they were certainly inept, so therefore I had no choice but to make the phone call.

A woman with a manly voice answered my 911 call. I was nonplussed for a second but decided, even before I spoke, that a manly voice, especially if you were a woman, could be a plus for a 911 operator.

Saturday, May 19, 2007


If I were ever to start a band these are names I would consider naming the band that I decided to start.
1. The Mighty Boztones
2. I'm With Stupid
3. Gee and the Spots
4. Killdozer X
5. The Hungry Dawgz
6. ET Phoned Home
7. Death and Dreadlocks
8. The War Zone Peeps
9. Crude Boils
10. Idiot and the Savants

Friday, May 18, 2007

Ten times ten is more than 99

Ten things I'm thinking now, right the fuck now.
1. It's too early, I should go back to bed.
2. I don't think I like the changes in my bedroom.
3. I wonder what hand sanitizer tastes like.
4. It's so cold I'm glad I don't sleep naked.
5. Z is my favorite letter of the alphabet.
6. If my stomach could REALLY talk I wonder what it would have to say for itself.
7. I'm glad I changed my mind about going out for breakfast this morning because I'm not in the mood for combing my hair right now.
8. What should I get myself for my birthday which is coming up next month just like it does every year.
9. I hope I don't have that dream about spending the night in jail again, it seems so real that when I wake up I have a hard time convincing myself that I've never spent a night in jail.
10. Come to think of it, sleeping naked doesn't sound like such a bad idea.

Thursday, May 17, 2007

Faith, is that bassically you?

2nd email from Faith

hello my dear Killer,
how are you doing today, hope fine. i am faith by name from ghana am 26yrs old and i have a brother is name is joseph and my mum maria by name, we are bassically from liberia, but we are living in ghana now, i am a student and i love meeting new friends all over the world, i will be very greatful if you can send me your new pic and tell me more about you, even give me your phone number so i can call you. i hope to hear from you soon,
with love,

My Reply

hello my dear Faith who is mostly from Liberia,
Here is my picture that you requested. Many people think I look like teen idol Corey Feldman, I am also enclosing a picture of teen idol Corey Feldman so tell me what you think.
I am mostly from the United States and I should be getting out pris ... out of "skool" in 8-10 years.
My phone number is xxx-xxx-xxxx*, but there is only one phone for the whole cell block, I mean the whole dormitory, so many times other people will answer the phone and teasingly try to get you to bring drugs, I mean care packages, into our "skool"
I have to leave the computer now. A fellow inmate, I mean class mate, named Big Guido wants to use my ass, I mean the computer.
Thank you for writing to a lonely inmate, I mean college student.
Lovingly calling you my new friend
Killer (It's just a nickname, honest)
*This email was monitored and edited by the State Bureau of Prisons.


Teen Idol Corey Feldman

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

I'm looking at 3-5 with time off for good behavior

This came to my buzznet account earlier today.

Hello dear new friend,
how are you today i hope that every things is ok with you as is my pleassure to contact you after viewing your profile which really interest me in having communication with you if you will have the desire with me so that we can get to know each other better and see what happened in future.
i will be very happy if you can write me through my email for easiest communication and to know all about each other,here is my email ( ) i will be waiting to hear from you as i wish you all the best this new year
yours new friend

My Reply

Hello back at ya my dear new friend!
I was just sitting hear in my cell, I mean my dorm room, wishing that I had a dear new friend, and then (((poof))) here you are a dear new friend.
I am glad that you recieved much pleassures from viewing my profile, but be careful I have heard many times that if you derive too much pleassures that you can go blind, but I guess if you only do it until you need glasses I guess that wouldn't be too much pleassures to be deriving, and anyway, me and my cell mates, I mean me and my room mates, really like girls with glasses. I mean we REALLY LIKE GIRLS WITH GLASSES.
I have many desires to meet new dear friends, and it would be much pleassures to me during my unfortunate incarceration, I mean while I am away at school, to get to know you better.

Are we having a best new year already? I guess time really does fly when you are in pris ... when you are away at school.

Please, please, please let us get on the track to becomming dear OLD friends. I am pining to get to know you better.

Yours newER friend

Killer (It's just a nickname, honest)

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

To be so totally whacked on a Monday night that you don't care, you just don't care.

I am going to bed wearing the grey t-shirt that I have worn all day long that I stole from the phys ed department of the school where I used to teach.
That's how tired I am.
That's how little I care.
That's ...
Excuse me for a minute.
I just had one of those seemingly drug induced episodes where both time and space inexplicably merge and you see your destiny, and my destiny says I should go to bed wearing the grey t-shirt that I have worn all day yadda, yadda, yadda, ho, ho, ho.

Monday, May 14, 2007

Ma, my head hurts

I saw a teenage girl at the BK in W. Branch today who looked just like Rocky Dennis.

Or maybe I just saw Eric Stolz.

I love the sound of thunder in the morning, it sounds like my stomach growling

It's raining, and there's thunder off in the distance, and I just made coffee, and I had a couple of cookies, and the bottom sheet has come off the corners of the bed, and a truck just drove by, and my stomach just made a noise which was louder than the thunder off in the distance, and now the thunder off in the distance just made the house vibrate even though the thunder is still off in the distance, and I just read an email for a sale at an electronics store where you can get a 6 gig pocket hard drive for $19.99, and I was tempted to buy it, but I don't need it, and I would never use it, but I'm still tempted to buy it just like the 1 gig SD card I bought for ten dollars yesterday at the Evil Empire, I think I have four 1 gig cards now, but it was ten dollars man ... ten dollars, and finally, fuck it, there's no and finally today, I'm going back to bed, and I'm not even going to fix the bottom sheet that has come off the corners of the bed, because that's just the way I roll.

Sunday, May 13, 2007

What is it with socks?

I guess I'll read now, or maybe I'll just go to bed and dream about Beryl, sighhhhhhh, my sweet lovely, innocent, nice pretty, Beryl. Sighhhhhhhhhh, Beryl.
MB forgot her purse over in West Branch today, so I'll have to go and get it on Monday, but I can't give her a hard time about it because I just realised that the Mother's Day card I got her says Happy Mother's Day to a Wonderful Daughter, and I'm not going to mention it to her because she loves to rub my face in any errors that I make, and don't worry about her purse, there wasn't any money in it, and her ID card has expired, and I imagine the three sticks of gum she had in it will keep, and besides they put it in the safe for her, and I wasn't going to tell you that she left at it the Burger King because you always make me feel less than human when I tell you that I was at the BK, and who knew that the BK had a safe, and you know, I bet MB was a wonderful daughter because to hear her tell it she was a saint, and I guess that's it except for the fact that I won an apple pie and a small milk shake with the Spiderman scratch off game at the BK today ... ole!
West Branch is an 80 mile round trip, that chewing gum had better be safe in the safe at the Burger King that I wasn't going to tell you about stopping at.

Saturday, May 12, 2007


I took MB for a pre-Mother's Day drive over to West Branch today.
This must be the year for dandelions. They were everywhere.
Seriously, they were everywhere.

Photo Hosted at Buzznet

I've got more pictures if you want to see them. I took 31 pictures in all. About 25 on one side of the road, and about 6 through the car window of the other side of the road, the side of the road that I think the chickens crossed over to, or I might be thinking of something else.
I mean dandelions were everywhere, but I said that already, didn't I.
Ok, just enjoy the picture, I'm going to go do something that involves eating and ham.
Click on pic to go to buzznet for full size view.
Wait ... I hear ham!!!

Dr Hunter Douglas ... gets a new girl friend, maybe

Received this email this morning.

Do not ignorea me please,
I found your email somewhereb band now decided to write you.
Ib am coming to your place in few weeks and thought we
can meet each other. Let me know if you do not mind.
I am a nice pretty girl. Don't reply to this email.
Email me direclty at

My reply.

Dear Beryl,
My, that is a pretty name, is it by any chance Nigerian?
You write such a beautiful email how could I possibly ignorea you?
Of course Ib would like to meet you when you come to my place in a few weeks and I do not mind meeting you when you come to my place, but be sure to wear some long underpants because my place is very cold now ... lolololol I make a little joke, the whether here is fine, it just tickles me to say underpants.
Thank you for telling me that you are a nice pretty girl because I HATE GIRLS THAT ARE NOT NICE PRETTY GIRLS, I MEAN I REALLY HATE THEM SOOO VERY MUCH.
My friends call me Lothar but you may call me Dr Hunter Douglas because that is my name.
Hoping so very much to hear from you soon.
Achingly waiting for your reply to my email, not because I am lonely but because I like meeting nice pretty girls, I REALLY LIKE MEETING NICE PRETTY GIRLS.
Dr Hunter Douglas
PS - Many people have told me that I am an nice pretty boy so we should make a stunning couple when you visit my place in a few weeks.

Thursday, May 10, 2007

It rained today, and it was cool, and it was humid, and the air was fragrant like flowers.

I feel smart tonight.
No, I really do.
Smart and hip, and not tragically hip like I usually feel, hip like I know what's going on, and ...
I'm going to stop now before I stop feeling smart and my hipness reverts to the tragic variety.
Who loves ya?
Bozzie loves ya.

Tuesday, May 08, 2007

I hear noises and there is no one there except for that zombie way off in the distance but I might be imagining that too.

I used to believe that if you sneezed ten times in a row in quick succession you would die, that's what I believed when I was a teenager and the most I ever sneezed in a row in quick succession was seven, maybe eight times ever, but sometime in my late twenties I did it, I sneezed ten times in a row in quick succession and I didn't die, and I thought that might have been the exception that proved the rule, or maybe it was something like not getting pregnant the first time you fuck, and I was going to change the first time you fuck to the first time you have sex, but I said fuck so there you go, but this isn't about fucking it's about sneezing, and a girl once told me that a really good sneeze was like a really good orgasm, but this is the same girl that told me that the song Norwegian Wood was a song about John Lennon fucking Natalie Wood, and I never believed that, I mean you might as well have said that Norwegian Wood was a song about John Lennon fucking Doris Day in the woods while Helmut Newton took pictures, and so it goes, and now back to sneezing ten times in a row in quick succession and dying ...
As it turns out you can sneeze a whole lot of times and not die, and conversely you can sneeze like no amount of times and die, so what does it all mean, nothing I guess, but in case you're interested the most I have sneezed in a row in quick succession is fourteen times, and it didn't kill me, but it probably will eventually.

Friday, May 04, 2007

Bite me, and bite me again, and again, and again

Ten things that haven't anything to do with any of the other ten things.

1. If I were a writer I wouldn't want to be like any other writer and I'd want no other writer to be like me, as if they'd want to be, anyway, huh.
2. I had a large diet coke, you know, one of those 44 ounce type deals, in the car today, in the drink holder, and when I pulled out of the parking lot, it was no longer in the drink holder, it was now, or it was then on the floor in front of the passenger seat, and I panicked for a moment and almost drove into oncoming traffic, but I ... fuck, it's two in the morning and MB just told me she was out of Depends ... out of Depends, I just bought her two packages two days ago ... there's twenty in each package, it's ridiculous, she must wear five at a time, I am flabbergasted, and I can't think straight.
3. Now my head feels like it is about to explode, with confetti and everything.
4. I am defeated.
5. I give up.
6. Would someone please smother me in my sleep.
7. My god, even Sam Cooke songs can't calm me down, Sam Cooke can calm anyone down, but he can't calm me down. Seriously, I think I'm about to hyper-ventilate.
8. You think I'm overstating it don't you.
9. I guess I could go to the Evil Empire, they're always open. I wonder if I could go in there dressed like I'm dressed now. I guess the tu-tu would look alright but I'm not so sure about the tube sock arm warmers and KISS make-up, ok, it's not KISS make-up, but you know ... Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
10. And finally ... Sighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Fuck it, nevermind, I'll just go sit in the corner, act like I'm not here. There's some Diet Coke in the fridge if you get thirsty, and I think there's some leftover meatloaf in there too.

Thursday, May 03, 2007


MB doing her "What you talkin' 'bout Willis" impression ...

Photo Hosted at Buzznet

Awwwwww ...

Photo Hosted at Buzznet

Yours truly ...

Wednesday, May 02, 2007

The heart of a poet, the shoes of a fisherman, and the mind of a man possessed, or something equally literal

My throat is raw tonight.
I took some Nyquil about ten minutes ago, the store brand kind, the cherry flavored kind, the kind that I bet would taste good on ice cream kind, but my throat is still raw.
I got caught in the rain today, driving back from Oscoda, with a pizza from Hungry Howies in the back seat, it was a square pizza, it didn't taste all that good, it was really raining heavy at times, one person pulled over, the one person wasn't me, but there have been times when I have pulled over because of the rain, or the tap dancing deer(s).
I should take some more Nyquil, or a shot of cheap booze, and pretend I'm Bukowski, no wait, not Bukowski, and pretend I'm Kerouac, no, not Kerouac, and pretend I'm one of those beat poets that I can never remember the name of, the ones that lived in squalor, no, the ones that thrived in squalor, the ones who chain smoked, and drank cheap red wine, and did a little reefer, and popped a few pills, and tried a little horse, and slept on the floor of their best friends apartment when they got kicked out of their own for playing Charlie Parker too late and too loud, or for clogging up the plumbing when they got all paranoid and flushed the manuscript they'd been working on for three years, (three fucking years man) down the toilet, or for having sex, with a girl, or a guy, or a group, or for being free man, that man hates when you're free.
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by bad haircuts and paisley neckties
I think I'd like some soup now please, maybe a little cream of mushroom, thanks.

The not so grand ennui

I need a theme song.
A song that would play automatically whenever you click on The Grand Ennui, but not the song The Grand Ennui, because that's a little too country, and I'm a little too rock and roll.
Something that reeks of me, reeks of boz.
My essence.
My Yin.
My Yang.
My Id.
My Nazz (Nazz???)
Something that if you heard it on the radio on your drive home from work you'd say to yourself ...
Hey, that's The Boz Song!!!
Something to do with HAM.
Any suggestions?