Jesus Christ On A Hot Plate

Look who's back.

Snow job

I called the snow removal guy this morning like I said I was going to do.
He said he'd be over in twenty minutes which struck me as kind of odd.
Why not I'll be right over, or I'll be over in ten minutes, or a half hour, or an hour?
Twenty minutes is such an odd time reference.
Unless twenty minutes is some kind of snow removal guy codeword for ...
I'll be over in twenty minutes to slit your throat, drink your blood and worship at the alter of Brice Beckham!!!

I guess I'm still not fully recovered from my near fatal trip and fall that happened earlier this morning.

I should probably pay him in cash too.

If it feels like Sunday it must be Sunday

In the past ten minutes I have
1. Glopped mustard on my beard.
2. Discussed the finer points of foreign films with myself. I think I like Irish films the best, but that's just a current thing.
3. Wondered why the only Olympics I have ever really watched were the 1960 Rome Summer Olympics and the 1972 Munich Summer Olympics. I mean I've always meant to watch more, but something always came up ... came up --- hahahaha.
4. Caught my big toe in the cuff of my pajamas and almost fell flat on my face. I'm still a bit shaken up by that, so if this post doesn't make any sense that's probably the reason.

And introducing James Arness as The Thing

Alright, who kidnapped the guy who was supposed to clear the snow off my driveway today?

He called me bright and early this morning and said he would be here as soon as the plows had finished doing the streets, or no later than early this evening.
The streets have long since been plowed, and it's no longer early this evening, and the snow is still piled high in my driveway.
I'm stranded.
I'm stuck.
I'm incapacitated.
I'm marooned.
I'm up the creek without a snow shovel.

I'll call him brighter and earlier tomorrow morning and see what the deal is.
And ...
I'll pay him with a check instead of cash.
Try to cash a check in a small town on a Sunday.
Mess with me, will ya.
Punk.

19.

When she was twenty years old she used to fantasize that her father was a doctor working for the World Health Organization in some third world country.
When she was fifteen years old she was convinced that her father was the bass player in some eighties hair band.
When she was five she used to pretend that her father had been killed trying to rescue a litter of kittens from a burning building.
And now, like most things she didn't understand, she tried not to think of him at all.

She looked up after rinsing the soap off her face and her reflection in the mirror told her that no amount of scrubbing would eliminate the bags from under her eyes.

That Night

Yourself you'd touch, but not too much, you've heard it's degrading

I think I'll wind up the night right clicking on random Donovan songs.

I met you last summer when I came up to stay with my gram

Not many people know this, but Carl Wilson had the voice of an angel, and now he is an angel, ironic or not, tell me about it!

Sometimes the titles are longer than the posts themselves, and if I pad it a bit this will be one of them

I am feeling joyous tonight, it must be the music, it's always the music.

hetero to the hilt

I sang I am Woman by Helen Reddy in the shower last night, which is something I often do when using a nice jasmine scented body wash.
I love early 70's schlock music.
I could listen to Tony Orlando with, or without, Dawn all night.
And don't get me started on Gilbert O'Sullivan.
And yeah, ABBA often brings a tear to my eye.
Hey, it was the 70's. The platform shoes made me a little light headed!

These are the ties that fry men's soles.

I don't know what it is but I can't keep my eyes open, and I want to go back to bed so bad, but I've already gone back to bed three times, and it's not a depression induced fuck the world I want to go back to bed and sleep the pain away, because I'm not depressed, well, not anymore than usual. I'd go out because I need to go to the bank but there is a freezing rain advisory until one o'clock, which I now know has passed, because I just looked at the teeny tiny little clock in the toolbar and it says 1:01, and I never noticed till now that 1:01 without the : is 101 which looks an awful lot like lol, and I just hate it when life lol's at me.
I am so perplexed I could [fill in the blank].

Down on me

I'm listening to random play tonight.
A lot of the Beau Brummels, and give me a break Robert Mitchum, yeah, that Robert Mitchum, singing Thunder Road.

My arm is twitching. I hate when it does that.

And hey, can that be Bob Dylan singing From A Buick 6?

I drank some one day past expiration milk today, and it tasted like it. Not spoiled, just a one day after expiration taste. The kind of taste that you don't really taste until you burp, and then you know you'd better throw it out in another day or two, or three at the most.

I know, I'm not making much sense, but that happens when I try to multi-task, and I'm not even trying to multi-task, I'm just thinking about trying to multi-task.

And damn, my arm is still twitching.

I'll give you one Townes Van Zandt, and two Lyle Lovett's for one John Prine ... deal?

Excuse me, but now I've got gas.

Hit it Pickett!!!
I'm gonna take that girl and hold her, and do everything I told her in the midnight hour. Aaaaaaaaa-oooooooooooooooooh.

Whenever I hear the song Maggie May by Rod Stewart it makes me think of a highly romanticized version of my parent's courtship, romanticized because except for my mother's nickname being Maggie and my dad playing pool their courtship was nothing like the song.

If Nico and Grace Slick had a fist fight back in 1967 I wonder who would have won?

I had a monster crush on Grace Slick when I was a teenager, her and Buffy Sainte Marie, and Linda Ronstadt, and Peggy Lipton the chick from TV's Mod Squad, yeah Julie, that's the one, and oh yeah, I had a tremendous crush on Goldie Hawn when she was on Laugh-in, and Yoko Ono too ... ha, I made that up about Yoko Ono, seriously, honest.

I guess that's all for now.

Don't let the sun catch you crying.

Video blogging in the 21st century

Poor Townes, we hardly knew you

Why do I always listen to sad songs on Saturday night?
Or are all songs just inherently sad on Saturday night?
Why do Saturday night questions always go unanswered?
Or are the questions just rhetorical ... on Saturday night.

Erp

Yeah, we're all pretty much damaged goods.
Like the can of cream of mushroom soup in the reduced bin at the supermarket.
But if you can get beyond the dents, the bumps, the scratches, the rips, the paranoia, the rage, the ennui, the assless leather chaps, the egos, the ids, the time of the month, the time you were two dollars and forty eight cents short in the check out line at the supermarket, that one time in band camp, the political correctness, the apolitical prospectus, the sexual innuendo, the how much is that doggie in the window, the Pattie Paige, the Jimmy Page, the road not taken, the book not read, the unturned stones, and the sneezes that sound like a cat with a machine gun
There's still a lot of creamy goodness deep inside.

Does your Tylenol lose it's flavor on the bedpost overnight?

So, oh man, I am in terrible pain.
Ok, let me rephrase that. I hurt.
Yeah, it's not such terrible pain, but I hurt, I surely, and please don't call me shirley, do hurt.
But, hey, what can I do?
Seriously, and speaking about seriously, I seriously had a very strange day. I mean, some of you know parts of it, but none of you know all of it, and for your own sake the less you know the better, but if you hear strange background noises when you're talking on the phone don't go looking to the FBI for help, because, well, let's just say ixnay on the Efay Ebay Ibay, if you get my drift.

I mean OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.

Magnetic Haiku

Yeah, I'm pretty profound.

I had this dream last night where Laurie Partridge and I went on a liquor store robbing rampage throughout the upper midwest ...

I came to the realization last night that we are all going to die eventually, and it really doesn't matter what you've done with your life.

It doesn't matter if you're Mahatma Gandhi or the little old lady who kept 89 cats in a two room apartment, you're going to die.

Even Mark Twain, who once said that the reports of his death were greatly exaggerated ended up dying.
That is unless you want to believe the reports that Twain is sharing a room with Elvis in Kalamazoo and working twenty hours a week as a greeter at WalMart to supplement his meager social security stipend.

Yeah, unless you want to believe that, we all end up dead.

Ahhhhhh Mark baby, if you fry me up a couple peanut butter and nanner sammiches I'll give you another Cadillac.

Based on the best selling novel

Sorry that I haven't been writing much lately, but I have been so busy with my novel Boz: Portrait of a Teenage Runaway, and yes despite whatever confusion may result it will be entitled Boz: Portrait of a Teenage Runaway.
Actually, I am not working on the book at the moment. I am working on the soundtrack for the Lifetime Original Movie based on my book Boz: Portrait of a Teenage Runaway, tentatively set to star Eve Plumb as the young Boz.

So far these songs have made the cut:
One Tin Soldier by Coven
Which Way You Going Billy by The Poppy Family
Put Your Hand in the Hand by Ocean
Please Mister Please by Olivia Newton John
I am Woman by Helen Reddy
Chevy Van by Sammy Johns, no relation to Elton John
Benny and the Jets by Elton John, no relation to Sammy Johns
And
It Never Rains in Southern California by Albert Hammond

It is in belle's contract with Lifetime that I have to give her credit for suggesting that I do the soundtrack for the movie Boz: Portrait of a Teenage Runaway based on my novel Boz: Portrait of a Teenage Runaway, and I don't know why I bother linking belle because she hasn't updated her blog since Rosie O'Donnell was straight, which is really quite appropriate if you think about it because Rosie O'Donnell will make a cameo appearance reprising her role from the smash Broadway hit Belle: Portrait of a Teenage Narcoleptic.

Sleep, I'll never be your bitch

Man, this is serious.
It's three thirty in the morning and I can't sleep.
I mean, this could lead to premature ejac ... death.
Who would finish my novel?
Who would finish my google image search for Tank Girl Nude?
Who would see that Eve Plumb is taken care of in her hour of need?
Who would make sure that all good bloggers go to heaven 1,2,3,4,5,6,7?
Who would turn off all the fucking lights in here, geez, I'm going blind already!!!
Fuck it, I just need me some good Flickr Fetish.
Good night.

The part of Eve Plumb was played by Miss Moonie Pottie.

It was a dark and stormy night

What should I call my new book?
I was thinking I might call it Boz, Portrait of a Teenage Runaway but I think that might cause some confusion, but I do think Eve Plumb would be perfect to play the young Boz in the Lifetime Original Movie.

I must have missed that day

Ok, in ninth grade Civics class there was this girl named Carol who sat in front of me. She was a nice girl, a sweet girl, even a pretty girl, and she was always trying to strike up a conversation with me, and I must admit that in the suburban sprawl of Detroit her relocated lilting southern drawl had a slightly hypnotic effect on me.

Here's the problem. I was the shyest boy in this and seventeen parallel universes and getting me to utter more than three words in succession was a task most people weren't up to.

Anyway, one day in Civics class Mr. Sykes, who was also my guidance counselor, asked very sarcastically if I planned on going to high school the next year because I hadn't as of yet filled out my schedule.

I just sort of looked down at my feet and said:
I dunno, I guess.

Out of nowhere Carol jumped up all full of the righteous indignation only a girl on the verge of becoming a woman could have, and informed Mr. Sykes that:
Ken couldn't have possibly known about the schedules because he had been absent that day.
She then sat down in a huff, looked at me and said:
Isn't that right Ken?
I sort of looked at her all bug eyed and slack jawed and after what seemed like hours I managed to half way stutter out:
I dunno, I g-g-guess.

The question that begs answering is, did I miss out on a good thing here?
Did Carol in all her smoldering femininity and repressed mid-sixties sexuality have a crush on me, and did I in all my gangly, awkward, not knowing my ass from a whole in the groundess ...
Well, was I just oblivious to it?

Mr. Humerus meet Mr. Radius and Mr. Ulna

I didn't sleep much last night.
My left arm was killing me.
I don't mean killing me as in grabbing me by the throat, digging my fingers in, and shaking, then releasing, shaking, then releasing, shaking, then releasing, over, and over, and over, and over until my lifeless body lay in a formless heap on the floor.
Not that I haven't felt like doing that more than a few times.
I mean my left arm was killing me as in it FUCKING-G-G-G-G-G hurt with a capital F, capital U, capital C, capital K, capital I, capital N, capital G-G-G-G-G.
Poor Bozzie.
Feel my pain, and anything else that looks like it might need a feel.

Huh!!!

Mother Boz's new boy toy.
I don't know where she finds them.



And I'm not going to call him Dad.

Pic courtesy of Melissa, and I'm not even going to ask what she was searching for to come up with something like this,

The Sex Ed Film

Back in ninth grade they had a boys only assembly down in the gymnasium.
They didn't tell us what the assembly was about, just that it would be boys only and horsing around wouldn't be tolerated.

So when we got down to the gym we were told by Mr. Frankenhiemer, the head of the PE department, to shut up and just go sit in the bleachers.
Man, I thought they were going to lecture us on the importance of team sports and how it helped build character and stuff like that.

As if.

Anyway, Mr. Frankenhiemer told us that we would be watching a short film which would be followed by a question and answer period.

Lights out, and keep the noise down!!!

The film opens with Bob and Phil and their dates Betty and Jane having a picnic lunch down by the lake.
Bob and Phil and Betty decide to go swimming, and Bob seems puzzled, but says nothing, when Jane quietly demurs saying that she will just sit on the blanket and watch.
After the prerequisite horseplay down at the lake Bob takes Phil aside and asks why Jane is being such a stick in the mud.
Phil replies that Jane is just having her monthly menstrual cycle and it isn't safe for her to go swimming.
Ok, so, yeah, this was 1965 so the film must have been from 1955 and back then ...
Bob furrows his brow and looks confused, and says ...
Her monthly menstrual cycle, what the heck is that?
Phil just smiles and as the scene begins to fade into a more clinical laboratory setting, he begins to lecture Bob on the wonders of the female reproductive system.

After that the film got all technical, and quite frankly it started grossing me out, so I didn't pay much attention to it, but I do remember that they used the word slough about a million times, and there was something about 28 days, and discharge, and sanitary napkins, and on, and on, and on.

After about thirty minutes the technical part ends and we are back to Phil and Bob talking at the lake.

Phil reassures Bob that there is nothing wrong with Jane, and that all girls go through this cycle every month and the best thing that Bob can do as a considerate boy friend is to treat Jane with respect and kindness while she is in this delicate condition.

The film ends with Bob smiling and waving at Jane, and Jane shyly smiling back from the blanket her legs tightly clenched together beneath her.

The lights are turned on and Mr. Frankenhiemer asks if there are any questions, and seriously, who better to ask questions about the female reproductive system than a junior high school gym teacher.

After a long silence Edwin, yeah, Edwin, not Ed, or Eddie, it's Edwin, raises his hand and asks about the menstrual discharge ...

Jesus fucking christ!!!

I just put my hands over my ears and sang the lala song to myself and prayed that this nightmare would end.
Which it did.

Thank god PMS hadn't been discovered yet.

The end.

Chuck, short for Charles

Chuck had been a high school football star in Ashtabula, Ohio.
He had been a quick, and hard hitting, but undersized middle linebacker.
Chuck's dream was to go to the University of Miami of Ohio, where he would major in physical education, and eventually become a football coach at a small to intermediate size college.
However, due to his poor grades, along with his lack of size, the only scholarship offer Chuck received was from a small liberal arts college in northern Illinois.
A disheartened Chuck weighed his choices.
He could hope that his father could get him in at the local plastics factory.
He could enlist in the Marines.
Or he could accept the scholarship.
Chuck took the scholarship.
In the years to come Chuck would often regret this choice, but as it worked out it was one of the few good decisions that Chuck ever made.

Next Rest Stop 38 Miles

So, I woke up at about five this morning and watched about ten minutes of the Moonie " I don't have a bedroom, I sleep in your brain" Pottie Story.

Speaking about brains, remember Chuck and Erma? Chuck and Erma are the couple from Dayton Ohio, who along with their teenage son Ty, are driving around in my brain looking for the Worlds Largest Ball of String.

Anyway, I think Chuck and Erma, and their teenage son Ty, will become recurring characters in this saga I call The Grand Ennui, at least until I get bored with them, or until they find the Worlds Largest Ball of String.

On this weeks episode of Chuck and Erma, and Their Teenage Son Ty, and Their Quest For the World's Largest Ball of String we find Chuck and Erma distraught over the news that their teenage son Ty plans on cashing in the college bonds given to him by his maternal grandparents to pay for a chin implant.

Listen in as Ty proclaims ...
"College is for chumps, I have musical theater in my blood, and since I inherited my chinless genes from my maternal side I find it only appropriate that mumble mumble mumble mumble mumble mumble mumble mumble ... and this is a very very important facet in musical theater."

A new leaf, an old tree, and six flags over texas

Sometimes I think a middle-aged couple from Ohio and their teenage son are spending their vacation driving around through my brain looking for The Worlds Biggest Ball of String.
They're from Dayton.
He's in insurance.
She's an office manager.
And their son played JV football until he discovered that his true calling was musical theater when he got the role of Kenickie in his high school production of Grease.

Boz's Homemade Broccoli Soup Right Out Of The Can On A Budget

You will need:
One can of Campbells Broccoli Soup for $1.19 a can at Carters.
One can of either Cream of Mushroom, Cream of Chicken, or Cream of Celery for fifty cents a can at the Dollar General or ...
One can of Cream of Mushroom, or Cream of Chicken for fifty cents a can from the Family Dollar.
I give you this option because the Family Dollar doesn't sell Cream of Celery, and I know a lot of you with a more esoteric palette will prefer the Cream of Celery.
And one bag of frozen broccoli for 99 cents from Save-a-Lot, where you actually do save a lot, and I guess that would be truth in advertising, which sadly we as a nation do not really have much of anymore, the truth in advertising I mean.
Yeah, you'll need milk too, but I'm assuming that you already have some of that.

So anyway, when you get home you take out the middle sized of the three pots that somebody gave you once a long time ago that you only use for making popcorn when you don't have any microwave popcorn and you can't find the popcorn maker that you put away when you discovered how much easier it was just to make microwave popcorn.

SAFETY TIP: Wipe the dust out of the pot, better yet, rinse it out, I mean the odds are astronomical against you getting any kind of disease from a dusty pot, but this is Soup on a Budget, so why take the chance of an expensive trip to the emergency room and all it entails.

Open the can of Campbells Cream of Broccoli, which by the way for your convenience has a lift off top, but at $1.19 a can it should.
Open the can of Cream of Whatever from the Dollar General or Family Dollar, yeah, you'll need a can opener for this, but with the fifty cents a can cost I think it is well worth it.
By the way, I use a hand operated can opener, not so much for the cost, but those fucking electric can openers mostly just kick my ass.

Mix the cans of soup together in the pot. You'll probably need a spatula to get all the creamy goodness out because the soup is really thick. If you don't have a spatula your finger, or the finger of a loved one will do.

Dump in two cans of milk, yeah, use the can the soup came out of, I know, I had a lot of trouble with that at first wondering where in the world I could find an empty can for the milk, use the soup can you moron!!!
When I say moron I am referring to myself, but if the shoe fits ...

Take a couple handfuls of the frozen broccoli, rip it into pieces and toss it in the pot, yeah, you could use a knife and cut it into pieces, but I find that ripping it gets rid of a lot of pent up anxiety that has built up over the years, but that could just be me.

Cook it on high heat, which on a gas stove is just below the setting with that annoying clicking sound that lets you know the burner has ignited.

Bring it to a simmer, which is just below a boil, and the way you can tell that you have brought it to a simmer is to bring it to a boil and then let it cool off to a simmer.

Get out your favorite bowl or mug, and ladle, do not pour, I repeat do not pour, trust me, I know these things from experience.
As I was saying, get out your favorite bowl or mug, and ladle said soup into said bowl or mug.

Add crackers, or bread, or croutons, or corn bread, or bread sticks, or whatever to taste, pour yourself a little something to wash it down with, I prefer Pale Dry Ginger Ale, and enjoy.

Bon Appetit!

If Angela Chase led my so-called life she wouldn't have the balls to complain about hers

I didn't turn on the tree lights today so that means that the holiday season is officially over, seriously, and officially.

I think Gerard Depardieu is stalking me. He was definitely trying to make eye contact with me in My Father The Hero.

I keep walking by the 50% off xmas candy displays at all the stores, but I haven't bought anything yet, but I don't know what is going to happen when the discount hits 75%.

Don't even ask me about New Year's Eve. Some of the worst nights in my life have been New Year's Eve.
Ok, so you asked, here's three of the worst, in chronological order.
New Year's Eve 1960 - I was spending the week at my grandparents house. My grandparents who didn't have a television, a radio, a record player, or a telephone, and what the fuck, it was 1960 and everyone had a television, a radio, a record player, and a telephone, I mean even the pre-Beverly Hills Clampetts had a television, a radio, a record player, and a telephone, but no, not my grandparents.
So anyway, because they didn't have a television, a radio, a record player or a telephone you naturally went to bed early. Oh, and did I mention they lived in one of the worst public housing projects in Detroit? Well, they did. So anyway, precisely at midnight on new year's eve, and remember, I am only nine years old at the time, so, precisely at midnight there was all sorts of gun fire outside my bedroom window, gunfire followed by drunken revelry, gunfire followed by drunken revelry and really loud music, gunfire followed by drunken revelry, and really loud music, and my grandfather wandering the hallways in his nightshirt yelling ...
Play the Chipmunk Song, play the Chipmunk Song, play the Chipmunk Song, I wanna here Alvin, I wanna here Alvin, I wanna here Alllllllllllllll-vin. I wanna here the Chipmunk Song!!!

I'm sorry, but that memory is so traumatic that you'll have to wait to hear the rest of my ...
New Year's Eves tales of woe.
Alllllllllllllllllll-vin ...
Alllllllllllllllllll-vin ...
Alllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll-vin ...

The ghosts of xmas past

Ronnie's father was a television repairman when we were all kids back on Quinkert in the 50's and 60's.
There were no doctors, or lawyers, or captains of industry living in our neighborhood, so yeah, a television repairman was pretty hot stuff.
We all thought that Ronnie pretty much had it made.
Seriously, back then televisions weren't cheap and disposable like they are today and if something went wrong with your one and only tv set you naturally called in the repairman.
Yeah, Ronnie pretty much had it made, or so we thought.
Ronnie's father made a pretty good living.
Not only did he have his day job at a tv repair shop but he also had quite a little not reported for tax purposes, under the counter, moonlighting gig from fixing televisions around the neighborhood.
The trouble was that Ronnie's mother spent it faster than Ronnie's father made it.
I should probably say here that Ronnie was a real prick, he really was, and I think he probably got his prickiness genes from his mother.
On the other hand, Ronnie's father was a real nice guy.
He was a quiet and unassuming man who had been a Sgt in the Marines and had fought in the Pacific during World War Two. All our dads were World War Two vets, and they had all seen action, but Ronnie's dad was the only Sgt, and the only Marine, and the only one who had fought in the Pacific, and yeah, even our dads' thought that he was pretty impressive shit.
Anyway, what does this have to do with the ghosts of xmas past?
Like I said, Ronnie's mother spent it faster than Ronnie's dad could make it and I guess she really went all out at xmas time.
So every year, a few days after xmas Ronnie's dad would get good and drunk and pull Ronnie aside, and gave him the keys to the house, a couple hundred dollars in cash, and he'd tell Ronnie to take good care of his mother and his brother and sisters, because the stress had just gotten too much for Ronnie's father to handle and, Ronnie's father had decided that it would be best for everyone if he just left and went back to Tennessee, and he'd be sending money weekly once he got settled in, and he'd hop in his television repair van and take off.
By the time he'd gotten to Toledo he had either sobered up or come to his senses and he'd drive back home.
Ronnie told me this when we are about fourteen years old, and yeah, Ronnie grew to hate xmas, and really, could you blame him.
Ronnie was still a prick, but who wouldn't be.
How fucked up is that?

I thought he was already dead.

Ok, we all know that week between xmas and new years is a very strange week, yes indeed.
One of the many phenomenon of said week is the deluge of old celebrities who go to meet their maker.
C'mon, I have no statistics to back me up, but it seems they all wait till the after xmas sales start before they decide to kick off.
Seriously, check it out.
Frank Sinatra
Bob Hope
Jimmy Stewart
George Burns
Johnny Carson
They all died the week after xmas.
Honest, you can check it out if you don't believe me.
Who is it going to be this year?
Bob Barker?
Dick Clark?
C. Montgomery Burns?
Queen Elizabeth?
One of those old gay English Shakespearian dudes?
Who, who, who???

Ho ho ho

Merry Christmas

Hey Boz, what's been happening?

I'm in a fashion quandary.
My fat pants are a little too big, but my regular pants are still a little too tight.
I think I'll take a page out of Homer Simpson's book and just go with a Muu-Muu.



In other news ...
I cleaned out the fridge yesterday.
I threw out the five cans of tuna that had been in there well over two years.
I threw out two nearly empty jars of Icy Hot.
I threw out a half bottle of generic Pepto-Bismol.
I threw out some cheese from one of the god awful gift baskets I received last year for xmas.
I threw out five jars of orange stuff that I think might have been spiced carrot shreddings, either that or the ghost of xmas past, or maybe it was the egg plant that ate Cincinnati.
And ...
I threw out a jar of apricots that had only two half apricots left in the jar, and they looked so lonely, and one was sort of all shriveled up and it looked a little like Abraham Lincoln the night he went to the Ford Theater to see Our American Cousin.

In other news ...
I was standing in line at Customer Service at the Evil Empire to get a refund and some guy was being all abusive to the clerks because he had to wait ohhhhh I don't know five minutes, and the woman in front of me told him to lighten up that the clerks were doing the best they could, and he told the lady to ...
Get a face lift
and then he told her to ...
Get a job so she could afford a face lift
And then the store manager came in and the two of them argued back and forth for awhile
And then the store manager said ...
We don't need your business
And then the guy said to the store manager ...
Why don't you get married so you won't look so gay.
And then I said ...
Ok, I didn't say anything, but ten minutes later I thought of some really cool stuff I could have said to him.
The jerk.

When she walks just like a samba ...

Excuse me if I'm feeling a bit smug this evening.
I just found this comment on one of the photos on my buzznet account.
I mean seriously, she's from Brazil, and she's very attractive, and she's a professional photographer, and she's from ... Brazil, and I wonder if when she passes each one she passes go ahhhhhhhhhhhh, and she's from ... Brazil.

One Golden Ring

I'm listening to Harry Belafonte sing Day-o aka The Banana Boat Song.
My sister, my oldest sister, for years and years and years wanted the Harry Belafonte Live at Carnegie Hall Record album for Xmas. I don't know if she ever got it.
I do remember that the year she got a record player for Xmas she got some Elvis Presley 45s, that was the Xmas that I cracked the lid of the record player that my sister got for Xmas when I sat on it. Hey, I was only like five years old, ok, maybe six years old, and it's not like I broke open a ball point pen and got ink all over the arm rest of the new couch. I mean, I didn't do that until I was at least seven.
Anyway, I found the ring that my parents gave me for Xmas about 15 years ago.
Want to see it???



It's a star sapphire, and yeah, it's stuck on my chubby little finger.
Cool how it refracts the light though, isn't it, and I suppose that is why it is called a star sapphire.

Gift Card for MB

Gift Card for MB
Originally uploaded by boz48730.

When you care enough to give the Evil Empire.

Who needs snow tires?

Who needs snow tires?
Originally uploaded by boz48730.

Those damn kids!!!

You wouldn't believe just how cold that snow was.



I'm telling you, I was positively hypothermatic by the time I got it toweled off.
Look how white the snow made my beard and mustache look.

For all her fans

Looking like a Geriatric Gidget.

A video extravaganza

Me bringing the trash cans in after the snow.

First big snow of the season

First big snow of the season
Originally uploaded by boz48730.

Hopefully the last.

Stopping by the woods on a snowy ... afternoon

Stopping by the woods on a snowy ... afternoon
Originally uploaded by boz48730.

Tranquility amid the chaos.

Wednesday night, maybe

Crap.
There's a snow storm heading in after midnight and I have a dentist appointment at noon, and all I want to do is stay home and play Hey You Damn Kids Get Off My Lawn with MB's new walker.

Wednesday, I think

Took MB to her Doctor appointment today.
She got a script for her rapid heartbeat (dilacor) and a walker to help her ... walk.
The Doctor told her she had to use it or lose it, meaning she had to walk to build up her leg muscles or she would end up in a wheel chair.
She got so wound up in the examination room that she wouldn't stop talking.
It was yak yak yak yak, and when bozzie was five he ....
And yak yak yak, and when bozzie's nephew asked him if he was ever going to get married bozzie said ...
And yak yak yak, and bozzie is such a good housekeeper ...
And yak yak yak, and bozzie is such a good cook ...
And yak yak yak, and bozzie is such a good nurse ...
And yak yak yak, bozzie wet the bed until he was twelve years old ....

MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, shut up!!!!

I wish I had a walker.

For ten bonus points ...

Who is this man, and why is he doing the "otay" sign?

Monday afternoon

Ok, I am having a bit of an anxiety crisis at the present time. Nothing really serious, tightness in my throat and what feels like a fist pressing against the back of my stomach. This is nothing to what it used to be like years and years ago, when at times I was a total basket case, but it worries me.
If you have any stress relieving tricks, bring them on, or even words of support will do, or money, you can always send money.

MB is doing great. She has a drs appointment on Wednesday.

Saturday night

I've been on an emotional roller coaster the last two nights, but I think it's getting better.
As of now MB is doing very well, sick, but better.
If there are any complications between now and Monday I will take her to the emergency room.
If there are no complications I will take her to the doctor's on Monday.
I think she is getting fed up with me hovering over her like a mother hen, what can I say, I hover when I'm worried.

Friday night

My mother is sick tonight.
She is no longer Mother Boz, mostly because I am no longer Boz.
She is just my mother and I am just Ken, and Ken isn't handling it very well.
I don't think it is too serious, at least tonight, but what of the coming days, weeks, months, and years.
I am not the altrusitic good son that some of you think I am. I am just a son, better than some, worse than others.
I feel helpless and anxious, and I don't like it.

What style of panties are you?

My new quizilla quiz.

We don't need no stinkin' title

So, I'm supposed to be writing one of those Quizilla quizzes called Which Style of Panties Are You.
Instead I'm sitting here getting all wistful while listening to Donovan "Father of Ione Skye" Leitch, and I guess wistful is as good as any emotion at a little after midnight when the temperature is hovering around. let me check ...
Holy shit, when the temperature is hovering around zero-oh-oh-oh-oh.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
Must be the season of the witch

So yeah, the Quizilla quiz.
I'm thinking ...
boy cut
thong
bikini
rhumba
and
granny
Would you believe that according to my confidential panty expert that thongs are soooooooooo 90's and boy cut is the way to go.


On the firefly platform on Sunny Goodge Street
A violent hash smoker shook a chocolate machine
Involved in an eating scene

Yeah, Donovan Leitch.
He was someone I would have loved to have seem in concert back in the 60's
Because he was sooooooooo 60's, seriously 60's.

Goo Goo Barabajagal

So anyway ...
Which style of Panties are you
1. You want a midnight snack, what do you get?
a. A piece of pie, because the piece you had for dessert was so good.
b. Some carrot sticks, or maybe a salad, no dressing.
c. A diet soda and a sandwich.
d. All of the above, and a couple slices of pizza, and make that diet soda a Jolt Cola, and some of that leftover chicken would be good too. It doesn't really matter because I'm going to finish it off with a trip to the bathroom and a finger down the throat.

It's a start, I guess.

It's Cole with an "e"

Ehhh, time to make a post I guess.
Keetsie is RIPing out at the curb in a garbage can, inside a trash bag, wrapped in paper towels, sniff ... sniff ... sniff ...
MB has taken Keetsie's place in the trilogy trinity of mockingdom. I mean, man, it's frightening how little respect I get around here, in my own house even.
It is very cold out today.
Dogs and fries for dinner.
I should really feed the other two birds, but they give me the evil eye whenever I walk by their cage, it's like they hold me responsible, when actually Gaby and Chello didn't even like Keetsie. I swear, I'm not making this up to assuage my guilty conscience.
Anyway, I guess that's all for now.

RIP

Keetsie

I went down, down, down, as the flames went up higher

Things Johnny Cash and I have in common
1. We were both intercept operators in the air force.
2. He was a country music icon, I'm an internet icon.
3. He married June Carter, I voted for Jimmy Carter.
4. We both shot a man in Reno just to watch him die.
5. Joaquim Phoenix plays Johnny Cash in Walk The Line. I was pulled over on a traffic violation and had to walk a straight line in Phoenix.
6. My gmail account is boz48730, Johnny Cash had boz48731.
7. We both felt that Dolly Parton's boobs were way to big.
8. We both have trouble with number 8.
9. He was an original member of the Highwaymen. I was an original member of the RW ... BS.
10. We both prefer plastic over paper.

Monday is the next day of the rest of the week

I don't know. Things are kind of wanky lately.
Usually late at night is my time. The time when I get things done, but lately, ehhh, I've just felt bored, depressed and a little apprehensive about ... about everything I guess. It could be the season, it could be mortality creeping up, it could be that my nephew's daughter, the grand dufus's sister, my grand niece, is sixteen years old, an honor student, that has just started a part time job at Pet Smart, and when her dad picked her up from work yesterday he picked her up in the 2000 Mustang they just bought for her which she only has to pay insurance on.
Yeah, I think I'm just jealous.
Or tired.

Book, Music, and Movie Exchange

I just had another brilliant idea.
All bloggers love to read, listen to music, and watch movies, am I right?
But the costs are outrageous.
So what do you think about starting a message board where we could list books, cds or cassettes, and movies that we would like to trade for other books, cds or cassettes, and movies?
I'd list what I had for trade, you'd list what you had for trade, everybody would list what they had to trade. This could lead to the downfall of EBay!!!
Man, boz, this is a great idea!!!
Media mail costs about a buck, what have you go to lose?
Let me know what you think, and if I get any interest whatsoever I'll send a group email to all my friends, and you could send a group email to all your friends, and then we can see what develops.

Hey, at least I got a halfway interesting post out of it.

The first rule of the grand ennui is ...

Ok, so I got the first message on my new telephone/answering machine yesterday.
It was from LuAnne from the library.
The book I asked her to put a hold on is in.
It's by that Chuck guy that all you young people get a bone over.
You know, the guy who wrote Fight Club.
It's Choke, and is it just me but does the book cover look like the cover of Gray's Anatomy?
It is just me, isn't it? I knew it, I knew it, I knew it.

Update- Shmupdate

MB is doing better, but she is still a little hesitant about walking on her own.
My new bed arrived today. It's only a full size but it's about 12 feet high and I need a ladder to climbing into bed. What???
Blah, blah, blah.
I had to get a new phone, well actually, I had to get a new answering machine, so I just got a combo instead. Luckily I checked one last time before I called the phone company and made a fool of myself with wild accusations about the crapacity of their maintenance department.
I have a dental check-up today, which is cool because I get to have a busty dental technician, and a busty dental technician assistant orally probe me ... bustily and orally.
My diet is working, so you can call me Slim because None just left town.
G'night.

Anyone want to trade the last two days?

So anyway, I decided to re-arrange my bedroom for the first time in five years because my new larger bed will be delivered Tuesday or Wednesday of this week.
I mean, I moved everything, and many things I moved many times, but we all know how that is.
I guess it took four or five hours with all the rest breaks in between and due to my unfortunate spinal condition I ached liked a MoFo when I had finished.
I figured a nice hot shower would take care of some of those aches and pains so I jumped right in.
By the way, generic Head and Shoulders is a really nice shampoo. It makes your hair all soft and silky, and it smells good too.
While I was in the shower I heard a loud CLUNK, but I didn't pay much attention to it because the guy who lives next door is always making loud CLUNKS.
When I finished the shower I came out of the bathroom and there was Mother Boz in the kitchen on one knee holding on to the bar. I swear, I thought she had found religion at first, but no, she had slid, slid not fallen, and she was the loud CLUNK I heard while I was in the shower.
She asked me to help her up, which of course I did after much cursing under my breath because I get so frustrated when she falls.
I asked her if she was alright and she said yeah yeah yeah, and that was that.
Now here is where it gets interesting.
At about 12:30 am while I was reading the online Detroit News we have a power outage.
Ok, now I am sitting here in the dark in a newly re-arranged bedroom and I don't know where anything is, so I start stumbling around, knocking over, and tripping over anything that is in my path.
I remembered I had put a flashlight on the night stand so I groped around till I finally found it.
I did the whole candle thing and just sort of sat there waiting till I heard MB wake-up so I could warn her about no electricity.
I hear her stirring in her room so I go and warn her. We have a semi-intelligible conversation and she trudges off to the bathroom and I go back to my bedroom.
Five minutes later I hear another loud CLUNK and I run into the bathroom and there is MB sort of laying looking like a turtle that has been turned over on it's back.
I help her up, ask her if she is alright, and after she assures me that she is we go our separate ways.
The power comes back on after about two hours and I get up to set all the digital clocks and then I go back to bed.
I finally fall asleep, you know, it's really difficult to fall asleep when your bed is in a new position ...
At about 6:15 I wake up and I hear a tap tap tapping. I don't know what the fuck it is. I thought it might be someone at the door, but at six in the morning ... WTF.
The tapping keeps tapping and as my head clears I figure out it must be MB, so yeah, I hurry down to her room and there she is laying in the floor next to her bed tapping against the dresser with a pair of scissors.
She had tried to get up out of bed, but I guess she sort of slipped.
I helped her up again, asked if she was ok.
This time she sort of wasn't ok.
Her hip was giving her problems.
Yeah, old lady, hip, you think the worse, but it wasn't the worse, but it's bad enough.
She's bruised her hip and she isn't able to get up by herself and she is afraid to walk unless I help her, which I gladly do with a smile on my face ... every ... single ... time !!!
But anyway, it looks like I get to play evil hospital orderly like in One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest for the next couple of days ...
And did I tell you how much my back hurts???

Thanks for listening if you actually did.
This was very cathartic.

18.

Her mother was a loan officer at a branch of a local bank, who read self help books, and fantasized about being abducted by aliens.
Her father, who she hadn't see since her parent's divorce was rumored to be ...
Well, let's just say we'll be finding out more about her father as our story progresses.
[Link]

Changed her name and then he was a she

A rare pic of Nico from when she was a member of the Velvet Underground.



Look at the adam's apple bulging under her turtleneck.
Look at that mustache.
Look at those hips.
Look at that erection and it's futile attempt to escape the confines of her oh so tight, oh so snug fitting jeans.
Is it getting hot in here, or is it just me?
Nico, you're a MAN, admit it.

I bet she is reading the personals of some weird perverted sex newspaper looking for men who look like women looking for other men who look like women ... object amour.
Or maybe she is just checking out the after Thanksgiving sales at Sears.

Anyway, how was your Thanksgiving.
I heard that Nico's sucked, because she's a MAN ...
And being dead couldn't have helped much either.

I'll Be Your Mirror - The Velvet Underground & Nico

Who needs TV when you've got T Rex

Random Play With a Twist
The first ten songs random songs that I didn't recognize until I checked.

1. ZZ Top Goes to Egypt - Camper Van Beethoven
2. Dig For Fire - The Pixies
3. Master and Slave - Cherry Poppin' Daddies
4. Let's Get Fucked Up - The Cramps
5. All The Young Dudes - Jill Sobule
6. Oh Miss Ohio - Gillian Welch
7. It Must Be Summer - Fountains of Wayne
8. Catholic Boy - Jim Carroll Band
9. Chris and Johnny - 4 AM Blues
10. Show Me Your Pussy - Lords of Acid

And now on with the news

This just in ...
Unable to cope with life, after his 15 minutes in the spotlight had passed, the artist once known as the dancing baby took his own life earlier today.



According to a spokesman, the dancing baby, real name Tyler Fresno, had been despondent since he had learned that his parents had squandered the vast fortune that he had earned in the mid 90's, it seemed that the laws governing child actors did not apply to the internet. That and a recent coke bust, and the realization that he would always be known as the dancing baby just proved to be too much for the now teenage Tyler to handle.

17.

She had moved to Santa Rosa with her mother from Ohio just after her parents divorced when she was five years old.
In elementary school she had been a shy and moody child, shunned by the other girls, her looks as yet unappreciated by the boys.
In third grade the first time she refused to answer the teacher she was made to stay after school.
The second time she refused to answer she was sent to the office.
After the third time she spent the afternoon on a cot in the school nurse's office.
Finally, after the fourth time she refused to answer the teacher her mother was called and an appointment was arranged with a child psychologist.
This was a trend that would continue all her life.

[Link]

If I am not me who am I?

Ya know, I think my favorite non-Boz persona is Francis Pottie.
He's a genuinely decent guy, and he's Canadian.
But ...
T-Dub is my inner child.
And ...
Bhagarna the Foreign Man he is me as idiot savant.
I guess that would make Dr Hunter Douglas ... Male Psychiatrist the man I wish I was.
Ehhhhhhh, Wing Loo, the Adorable Little Chinese Lad, he's definitely my spiritual side.
Anyway ...

What would the Duke say?

Gretchen Mol as Bettie Page



In the soon to be released or already released bio-pic on Bettie Page.

16.

As I slumped to the floor I began to remember a lot of things.
Silence ...
Flashes of light ...
John Cougar Mellencamp ...
Shaving in the bathroom mirror ...
Pin pricks ...
Men with crewcuts and grey suits ...
A long dark hallway ...
Dreams?
Reality?
Where did one start and the other end?

[Link]

I think I need to get out more

What do you think, does it look like the pillows are humping?
Or do I just need to get out more?



I CAN'T GET OUT MORE ...
MY CAR WON'T START!!!

I'm charging the battery now. Hopefully that will get it going because I have a nine am appointment to get it looked at tomorrow.

Does anynone know how long it takes to charge a car battery from a battery charger?

Buck Naked Friday Part Two

We need an icon, we gotta have an icon.

15.

I couldn't believe what I saw.
I ran my hand across my forehead.
There were stitches.
I couldn't tell how many, there had to be eight, nine, at least ten of them.
I ran into the bathroom to get a closer look.
Yes, there were ten stitches across my forehead.
They looked fresh.
The skin around the stitches hadn't started to turn that sickening yellowish greenish blue color yet.
All of a sudden I felt woosy.
I turned to the toilet bowl.
I glanced into the waste basket next to the bowl.
It was filled with blood soaked tissue paper.
I tried to steady myself and called out for her.
She came quickly to the bathroom.
On wobbly legs I asked her what the fuck had happened.
She looked surprised, shook her head and said she couldn't believe I didn't remember.
As I slumped to the floor I began to remember.

[Link - That Night]

Hark and Ferd and a story that goes nowhere

When I was stationed on Crete back in 70-71 I had two friends named Hark and Ferd.
Hark was married.
Ferd was single.
Most of the single guys had a crush on Hark's wife probably because of her long legs and her short skirts.
Hark's wife also had a whiny disposition which in small doses a lot of the guys I guess found endearing.
I guess you could have called her cute, maybe even pretty, except to me she always seemed to be sucking on a lemon.
Yeah, she wasn't my favorite person.
Hark was middle america and as middle class as you can get. His parents were both high school teachers in central Ohio, and Hark was a high school basketball and baseball star who got a baseball scholarship to Ohio University.
Ferd was irish urban working class from Boston with a half dozen brothers and sisters, and he was also a high school sports star, but no college.
Hark's wife?
She was from an upper middle class suburb of Cleveland who met Hark while they were students at OU.
Hark and Ferd were really tight.
If you want my honest opinion, I thought Ferd had more than a simple crush on Hark's wife. I thought he was in love with her, unrequited, but still in love.

Sidenote: There was quite a bit of single guy and married guy's wife stuff going on at the time. Not just unrequited, but a lot of the requited variety going on too.

It was the spring of 1971 and Hark's wife's sister flew over for a visit.
Can you see where this is going?

Yeah, Ferd fell in love with Hark's wife's sister and they eventually got married.

Ok, call my cynical, but I knew from the start that this marriage wasn't going to work. Come on, Hark's wife's sister was just a substitute for Hark's wife, it was obvious.
Not only that, I couldn't see Hark's wife's sister's upper middle class waspish upbringing meshing with Ferd's working class irish roots.
This marriage was doomed from the start.

Flash forward thirty years.
Through the miracle of the internet a bunch of us from the Crete 70-71 era were able to hook up. It was kind of cool, you know, retelling old war stories and catching up on what life had dealt a bunch of twenty year olds who were now fifty year olds.
Eventually, the online network sort of faded away and we drifted apart.
Hey, that's what happens.

Oh yeah, Hark and Ferd, and Hark's wife, and Hark's wife's sister ...

Ferd and Hark's wife's sister are living in Phoenix. He cleans pools and she works in an office, they play golf everyday, and have no kids.

Hark and Hark's wife had a couple of kids and were divorced.
Hark remarried.
Hark and his current wife are both high school teachers in eastern Ohio.
Hark's ex-wife, remarried and divorced a couple more times and is now a social worker and living alone in Buffalo. I bet she's still sucking on that lemon, and I bet she's a cat lady too!

That's it, there's no moral or anything, except that then, as now, my instincts suck.

Buck Naked Friday

There is a new phenomenon sweeping the blog world called Half Nekkid Thursday which is actually a pretty good idea except that I am not much of a joiner unless I have some means of control of the situation.
With that in mind I am starting a new feature called Buck Naked Friday, but instead of posting the pics on your blog you email them directly to me.
Multiple entries are not only accepted but encouraged.

Ok, I know the chances are slim and none, and slim just left town, that I will get any responses, but just thinking about it is giving me a bit of a chubby.

14.

I wasn't sure what was going on.
I absentmindedly started scratching a freckle on the back of my wrist.
She sighed and told me to quit picking at or it would start bleeding just like it did last time.
I was going to tell her that I wasn't picking at it, I was scratching it, but figured what's the use, and said nothing.
She shook her head disapprovingly and returned to her book.
I saw an ant carrying a crumb almost half it's size slowly heading towards the bathroom.
I watched it for awhile trying to imagine how much I could carry if I had the strength of an ant.
I got up intending to step on the ant when I caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

[That Night-Link]

13.

I woke up in a cold sweat, thrashing about under the covers.
She looked up from her book and asked if I'd had a bad dream.
I closed my eyes real tight for a few seconds, opened them, and stared at her real hard.
I took a deep breath, kicked the covers off and sat on the edge of the bed and told her that yeah, I guess I must have.

[That Night-Link]

It's good being Boz

Even with only an hour and a half sleep.

The wind blows free and so does he

Man, I doubt if I'll sleep at all tonight.
We've got a wind advisory and it must be gusting up to sixty miles an hour.
I've got enough problems trying to fall asleep, how am I supposed to .... ummmm, heh, nevermind.
Anyway, I've lost power three times tonight already, just for a split second, but still long enough to send every digital clock in the house into a 12:00 12:00 12:00 12:00 frenzy.
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz, huh, what, no, I wasn't asleep.
Ok, I'm not scared of the wind, oh no, it's nothing like that.
It's just that it, you know, it's just so noisy and stuff.
I'm soooooooooo tired.
Oh yeah, I heard gun fire about an hour and a half ago.
Geez!!!
This reminds me of the time that Scout and Tom took the shortcut back from school the night of the open house, remember how windy it was that night.
His name was Tom, wasn't it.
No, it wasn't Tom, I just checked, it was Jem.
Where did I get Tom???
It is sooooooooooo fucking windy.
Tree branches scrapping against the house and windows.
Ceiling tiles rising and falling.
Floor boards creaking.
Lights dimming.
Back to the gunshot, or rifle shot.
Yeah, I'm pretty sure it was a rifle shot, because fire arm deer hunting season started yesterday, and it was probably some drunk hunter accidentally discharging his rifle. I mean, but still!!!
So anyway, yeah.
I think I'll turn on the tv and watch the farm reports, I've sort of lost track of the soybean futures the past couple ... DECADES.
But ha ...
I said ha ...
I can sleep all day today if I so desire.
So Mr. Wind go bite somebody else on the ass.

Even Don Quixote gets the blues

I don't get a lot of hateful feedback, but I get enough.
It's always from guys in their 30's who resent the fact that I am 55 years old but don't act like it.
Well, fuck 'em.
It's more than that though.
It's guys in their 30's who resent the fact that most of the handful of visitors I get are women in their 30's.
Hey, when I started writing this thing over three years ago I didn't write with a certain demographic in mind. I didn't try to cultivate a certain type of visitor. I just wrote ... whatever, hoping that someone might stumble in and liked what I had to say well enough to leave a comment every once in awhile.
For the most part it's worked.
Sure, there are times that I wish that I was one of those immensely popular blogs with tons of comments everyday, but ehhhhh.
I think I've found myself a comfortable little niche in my little corner of the internet.
I think I am pretty well known in the area of personal blogs.
I think my writing is fairly entertaining.

I guess what I am trying to say that if you don't like me, if you don't like what I write, if you don't like the way I lead my life .... who the fuck cares.

Oh yeah, if you attack people that I care about I will retaliate.
[See Previous Post]

Bring it on

Deleted comment

Hey Super-Bozu! How does it feel to be such a slimeball that you can actually capitalize on someone else's weakness in order to get cheap phone sex? How does it feel to know that the mother whose house you live in has moments of great disappointment when she considers the fact that her son grew up to be a pathetic loser who never did anything with his life? How does it feel to know that fantasy girl doesn't ever want to meet you in real life because, amongst other things, old age plus bad diet plus hormonal deficiency equals a really unpleasant smell? Please enlighten me!
justin | 11.15.05 - 9:19 pm | #

This is the guy who said that.



How worried should I be? He might as well have LATENT tattooed on his forehead.

Fuck you Moody Blues

It's 2:15 in the afternoon and I am sitting here in a t-shirt and jeans, no shoes, no socks, no service, and I can't even get motivated enough to ...
Comb my hair
Lick my wounds
Look out the window
Pick up my socks
Take a couple of Tylenol
Make up my mind
Do the Hustle
Go back to bed
Kiss an angel good morning (thank you Charlie Pride)
Change my mind
Learn a foreign language
Turn on a light
Turn off a light
Turn on
Tune in
Drop Out (thank you Timothy Leary)
Drop Dead (Thank you Alfred E Neuman)
Check my attitude at the door
Scratch my balls, well, I can do that
Hope for the best
Expect the wurst, hahaha
Inherit the wind
Reap the wind
Pass the wind, ooops, sorry
Worship false idols
etc ...
etc ...
etc ...

I lied, I'm not wearing jeans, but most of the rest is true.

E Tawas Time

So, I get a call from the guy that rakes leaves for me at EIGHT THIRTY IN THE FUCKING MORNING saying that since the weather for the next few days is going to bad that he would like to rake the leaves this afternoon. Sure, fine, go ahead, whatever ...
It's now 3:11 in the afternoon and he hasn't shown up yet. Being that it is at least a four hour job and it will be pitch dark in three hours I think he's a no show.



Actual leaves from my actual front yard.
Actually, it was taken last year.

Update: The leaf guy just showed up with his girl friend/wife and another guy at 3:45, so maybe they will get it done before dark.

Reading is fun and mental

A year ago at this time I had no books in my library, actually I didn't even have a library, mostly because I had quit reading about 15 years ago.
I just counted and now I have twenty five books in my library, that's if you can call the top of two dressers between the speakers of my CD player a library.
Yeah, twenty five books. I haven't read all of them, but I will, well, except for that Judy Blume book which I'll probably give to my niece if she comes up for Thanksgiving like she said she would.
There's quite a few Stephen King novels. He's pretty easy to pick up and kind of hard to put down.
Then I've got a couple by Joseph Heller, both Catch-22 and it's sequel that I can't remember the title of of, that Belle sent to me, and yeah, Catch-22 is probably my favorite read of all time.
Then there is a poetry anthology that Melissa sent to me that just screams BEAT GENERATION with William Carlos Williams, and Ferlinghetti, and Ginsberg, and the rest of the best minds of their generation ...
Then there are the Salinger's and the Lynda Barry's, that really started me reading again, that Amy sent to me, and I don't know who had a more profound effect on me Seymour or Marlys.
I can't forget all the bargains I've gotten for myself at the library book sale rack. There's The Godfather by Puzo, The Boys of Summer by Kahn, and I, Robot by Asimov, and Alice in Wonderland by Carroll, and some novel by Kafka that isn't Metamorphosis.
Of course there's the crappy crime novels that I love to read. There's one about the murder of Bob Crane, you know Colonel Hogan from Hogan's Heroes, and then there's the one about death of George Superman Reeves which could have been suicide or could have been murder and could have been a lot better written ...
Ok, yeah, I still haven't read the Henry Millers. I'm such a poseur, but seriously, I'll get to him eventually.
So yeah, reading is a good thing and I wonder why I ever stopped in the first place.

I trust no one, not even myself.

Parents murdered, girl kidnapped.
Am I overly cynical or does something seem fishy here?
Here's my take on it.
The kidnapper and the girl were boyfriend and girlfriend, the parents disapproved, the teenagers killed them, and then took off.

Seriously he says

I seriously think that the writer of one of the blogs I read is going insane. We'll just leave it at that, but if you think it may be you, maybe you should seek some help, seriously.

Anyway, I got a flu shot on Friday and it has knocked me on my ass. It feels like a dump trunk has run over the left side of my body, and I've been sneezing all day, ten at a time.
Ahhhhhh ...
choooooooooooo
choooooooooooo
choooooooooooo
choooooooooooo
choooooooooooo
choooooooooooo
choooooooooooo
choooooooooooo
choooooooooooo
Choooooooooooooooooooooooooo.
And I'm feeling feverish too, too, too.

And I'm fat.
Hello, I'm boz and I weigh 252 pounds.
Ok, I'm six foot three so I'm not fat to the point where I have to tool around the Evil Empire in a motorized cart, but I'm fat ... fat ... fat ...
I am seriously going on a diet starting two days ago, and I'm going to try and take off 30 pounds by my birthday which is like seven months away.

I guess that's it.
I'm going to have a candy bar and go to bed.

I'm not dead yet

So, what have I been doing while I haven't been posting?

I've been reading the Shawshank Redemption part of S. King's Different Seasons.

And ...
I've been downloading and burning CDs, including that one by Lucinda Williams that I can't remember the name of, you know what it is though, it's her last studio release, the one that she says fuck a few times on.
I've also downloaded and burnt Wayward Angels by Kasey Chambers, and I've downloaded but haven't burnt Furnace Room Lullabys by Neko Case.
I've also sent a get well CD to a friend of a whole lot of Nancy Sinatra stuff.
Hmmm, a lot of music going down, huh!
That's because music is in my stream, as Lucinda William's would say.
Whoa ...
A lot of music by WOMEN going down, excellent.

Oh yeah, I bought the book Heroes and Villains: The True Story of the Beach Boys off of EBay tonight. The book was only fifty cents, the s&h was 3 bucks minus a penny. I have to get into that s&h racket, that's where all the money is. Murry Wilson, their father is crazier than bat shit. Yeah, it's Murry, not Murray, or Muarry, or Marie, or Fred ... Murry. Good old Mur' used to pop out his glass eye and make Brian stare into the empty eye socket as a means of inspiration and punishment. Good old Mur' also cuffed Brian on the head so many times that he was deaf in one ear. Good old Mur' also tied Brian to a tree in the front yard because, well because, he could, I guess.
There's also a rumor that GOM once made Brian take a dump on a plate in the living room in front of the rest of the family.
I mean, I really want to read this book!!!

Finally, on a sad note. I had to buy fat pants today.
Yeah,
Fat ...
Pants ...

Pick a number between 1 and 48730

It's official.
I am more Boz than I am Ken.
I surrender.
Long live Boz.
Long live The Grand Ennui.
Is this good or bad?
I don't know, I wonder what Boz thinks.

I've pretty much said all that there is to say.
Blah ...
Slap, kick, bite, fade left, fade right, drool.

Did I ever tell you about the time I was in the middle of a riot when I was in Japan?
And then there was that time I almost burnt down the barracks.
And I don't know how many times some drunken Japanese local yelled Atomic Bomb, Atomic Bomb, Atomic Bomb at me, and I drunkenly yelled back Baatan Death March Baby, Baatan Death March.
But anyway ...

12.

He stood there waiting as a million questions went through my mind.
As I was about to speak an alarm went off and the room went dark.
The door burst open and there was a white hot flash as the man with the crew cut and the grey suit collapsed on the floor.
Someone took hold of my arm and led me out the door.

Link

11.

Who was I kidding.
She was going to blame me for this.
Somehow all of this was going to be my fault.
I knew what was going through her mind at this very moment.

He shouldn't have pressed me.
He should have let it run it's course.
He shouldn't have left.
It's his ritual.
It's not my fucking ritual.

The door opened and the taller and older man with the crewcut and the grey suit came into the room.
He smiled at me and asked if I had any questions.

Link

10.

A voice came over a speaker that was mounted over the door.
It was a man's voice.
I assumed he had a crew cut and wore a grey suit.
He told me that if I were hungry there was food in the refrigerator, and that I should help myself.
I spoke for the first time.
I asked them what they wanted with me.
There was no answer, just music.
It sounded like the fm local classic rock station.
If it were a local station that would be a good thing.

Link

9.

How long had I been out?
Was it a few hours.
Was it a few days.
I scratched my chin, there was stubble.
I had shaved last night, or was that the dream?
I had a gut feeling it had to be at least twenty four hours.

She had to have missed me by now.
She must have called the authorities by now.

But the men with the crewcuts and grey suits, they had to be some kind of authority, didn't they?

She must be frantic by now.
God, I hope she is.

Link

8.

There were two men standing before me.
They both had crewcuts, they both wore grey suits.

The younger and the smaller of the two men stepped forward grabbed my wrist and took my pulse.
He then took a small flashlight out of his pocket and checked my vision.
He wrote something in a small notebook and showed it to the other man.

Without a word they turned around and left the room.
The door clicked and locked behind them.

I appeared to be in some sort of break room or staff lounge.

The left sleeve of my shirt was cut off above the elbow.
My forearm stung.
I peeled back a bandage to reveal two little pin pricks.

These were not poachers.

Link

7.

I was in the bathroom shaving.
I loved the bathroom mirror it always made me look better than I actually looked.
She was already in bed and she called to me to hurry up.
I told her I'd be there in a second and I started to rinse the lather off my face.
I looked back in the mirror while reaching for a towel.
And there was that shape again reflected in the mirror coming towards me.

A hard slap to the face brought me back to reality.
I shook my head trying to get rid of the cobwebs and then I opened my eyes.

Link

6.

The shape came closer.
It was definitely two, maybe three people.
They were carrying rifles.
They had to be poachers
This didn't look good.
I knew I was in serious trouble.
It was too late to jump in my car and take off.
A fleeting image of Ned Beatty squealing like a pig passed through my mind.
I had to do something.
I had to say something.
Think, think, think.
I had to convince them that I wasn't some kind of a cop.
I had to convince them I was a good old boy just like them.
I started to speak, and then I felt a blunt object strike the back of my head.
My knees began to buckle, and then I blacked out.

Link

5.

It had started this morning at breakfast.
She looked troubled and I asked if anything was wrong.
As soon as I spoke I knew what her answer would be.
There would be no answer.
Just a blank stare that looked right through me, not even acknowledging my existence.

Link

4.

I couldn't make out what it was, it was too far off in the distance.
All I could see was a shape rustling towards me.
It could have been a man, it could have been an animal, it could have been anything.

Why did I stop?
So what if there had been poachers.
What was I going to do, make a citizens arrest?

I could hear whatever it was now coming towards me.
I was getting nervous.

Why hadn't I gotten my flashlight out of the glove compartment?
Why hadn't I got a tire iron out of the trunk?
Why hadn't I kept that gun that my brother had given me for Christmas ten years ago?
Why did I let her silences get the best of me?

3.

Standing there in the cool November air I decided it was time to go home.
It was part of the ritual.
I'd get mad.
I'd drive.
I'd go home.
All would be forgiven.
I took a last drag on my cigarette, and flicked it in the air.
Then by the orange light of the burning ember I saw something.

2.

I had left in a hurry that night.
Her silence was driving me crazy and I knew I had to get out before I said, or did, something I would regret.
So I drove.
I always drove.

1.

It was late, and I had been driving non-stop most of the night.
I saw flashes up ahead.
There was a lot of wild game in this area and I am sure they were muzzle flashes.
It had to be poachers.
I slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road.
I turned off my engine and sat and listened.
The only sound was John Cougar Mellencamp singing a little ditty about Jack and Diane.
I opened my door.
Ding ding ding ding
Looked around and got out.
It was still.
Maybe they weren't flashes after all.
Maybe it was just my imagination.
Maybe I should just get back in my car and take off.
Maybe I will after my head clears and I finish the cigarette that I promised myself I wouldn't have.

Lose this blog

Before noon on thursday I would like to ...
1. Get an email.
2. Discover a cure for anything.
3. Get a phone call from someone who isn't trying to sell me something.
4. Kick See somebody's ass.
5. See the movie Stewardess School.
6. Lose twenty five pounds.
7. Tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
8. Increase the size of my #117 by 11.7 per cent.
9. I don't know but it has something to do with boobs.
10. Cry manly tears.

Steal this blog

I just read my grand niece's blog.
She's 16 years old and she went out trick or treating on Monday, but she said she only stayed out for two and a half hours!
The last time I went out trick or treating I was twelve years old and I barely made it down the street and back, twenty minutes tops.
Trick or treating isn't for teenagers unless you're a tard, and she isn't a tard, she may be a cutter, and a bulimic, and have a lesbian for a best friend, but still ... she isn't a tard.
Ok, she is on the high school golf team, but still ...
Ok, the Grand Dufus is her brother, but still ...
Ok, Mother Boz is her great grandmother, and don't get me started on MB, but still ...
Ok, her dog Lucky may be retarded, but still ...
I mean all that should be balanced out by the fact that I am her grand uncle.
Don't you think???
Am I right?
Well, am I?

Random play music stuff

1. Hard Lovin' Loser - Richard and Mimi Farina
Richard Farina and Bob Dylan had an intense rivalry in the early to mid 60's. Farina was jealous of Dylan's musical success and Dylan was jealous of Farina's novel Been Down So Long It Looks Like Up To Me. The rivalry became so intense that after Dylan was injured in a motorcycle accident Farina went him one better and was killed in a motorcycle accident. Mimi Farina is the younger much prettier, but less talented sister of Joan Baez.
2. Hey Paula - Paul and Paula
Early 60's I love you-uuuu song. Paul and Paula were supposedly brother and sister which makes the song a lot kinkier than you would first think.
3. Day-O (The Banana Boat Song)- Harry Belafonte
The song that supposedly sounded the death knell of rock and roll and ushered in the new musical craze ... Calypso!!!
4. Susan - The Buckinghams
A Chicago based group that had four of five hits in the mid-60's. When I was stationed on Crete I was friends with a guy from Chicago who had been in a band that had opened for the Buckinghams all over the tri state area.
5. Time - The Chambers Brothers
A very long-ggggggggggggggg song that was perfect for what was then called Underground Music circa 1967-69. I'm pretty sure the lead singer had an orgasm around the 10 minute mark, at least it sounded like he did. Circa, hahaha.
6. Skip A Rope - Henson Cargill
Country hit that became a cross over pop hit in 1968 about how our words can poison the minds of our children ... WHAT ABOUT THE CHILDREN!!!
7. Pink Cadillac - Bruce Springsteen
Pank Cadillac, Pank Cadillac, Pank Cadillac.
8. Wasn't Born To Follow - The Byrds
Twangy guitar and harmony band that covered Dylan songs. They were led by Jim McGuinn who changed his name to Roger McGuinn on the advice of his guru. Why Roger, why not Krishnu, or Rami, or Egbert???
9. Dear Lady Twist - Gary US Bonds
Between the time that Elvis was drafted and the Beatles hit American popular music was very bleak. The blackness was all but wrung out of it and the scence was dominated by the likes of Frankie Avalon, Bobby Rydell, and Fabian. Gary US Bonds was an exception. He was a real Cajun rocker of god only knows what racial mix.
10. Brandy (You're A Fine Girl)- Looking Glass
She really was a fine girl, nuff said, because it's time for the hockey game.