I think I've written this post before, but the names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Songs that I remember playing on my mp3 while I walked almost six miles at the gym on Friday.
1. Homicide by 999, which is 666 on their ass.
2. Lucy at the Gym by Jill Sobule, she's the one who did the song I Kissed a Girl, which I thought was both sweet and highly arousing.
3. Riders on the Storm by the Doors, and Jim Morrison isn't really dead, he's living in the crawl space beneath my house with Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, and the original Marlboro Man.
4. Happy by the Stones with Keith Richards singing lead, and I liked most of the Stones songs that Richards sang lead on.
5. Black Day in July by Gordon Lightfoot about the 1967 Detroit Riot, and yes, I remember the riot well.
6. The Motor City is Burning by John Lee Hooker also about the Detroit Riot, and whenever I hear a song by John Lee Hooker ... I said HOOKER ... whenever I hear a song by John Lee Hooker I sing along and feel cool.
7. Sonora's Death Row by Robert Earl Keen, who, like John Lee Hooker, also has three names, but I never feel cool when I sing along to any of his songs.
8. Rainy Day Man by Tom Rush, and he's from New Hampshire, or Vermont, you know, one of those skinny states in the northeast where nothing ever happens.
9. Baby's on Fire by Brian Eno, who is more of a genius than Brian Wilson ever was.
10. The Fat Angel by Donovan who is the father of actress Ione Skye, and isn't that a pretty name?
11. The Boxer by Simon and Garfunkel, which was the last song I heard before induction into the Air Force on a cold and windy Friday morning in March of 1969 after downing four White Castles, an order of Fries, and a Coke on the drive to the induction center where I didn't have to sit next to Arlo Guthrie or any of the father rapers.

Foto Friday

The furnace guy did come, but he didn't get here until four.

My late lunch from the BK



Everything was very tasty.

The weather forecast said that there might be water spouts on the lake today, so I got all excited about taking pics, but alas, no water spouts, so I took a picture of myself instead.

Myself instead



The photo copier on my multifunction printer is fantastic. I've already used all ten free 4x6 photo papers that came with it.

Me looking at the photos I copied and salivating



And last but not least ...
Me in the bathroom at the gym after walking five miles, and why am I smiling after walking five miles, maybe it's because Does Your Chewing Gum Lose It's Flavor On The Bedpost Overnight is playing on my MP3, or maybe I am just hallucinating.

There's a leaf stuck in a spider web outside my window.

It is very cold today.
Cold enough to turn on the furnace for the first time.
I turned on the furnace.
It didn't work.
I called the plumbing and heating guy.
The guy that I don't trust.
He said he'll have someone out this afternoon to have a look at it.
I'm laying 50/50 odds that someone will be out this afternoon.
I hope the furnace doesn't need a crown.

I taught you everything you know about blogging, but I didn't teach you everything I forgot.

Had my dentist's appointment.
The one filling that could have been two fillings turned into two crowns.
The dentist and the busty Samoan dental assistant did the preliminary work today.
I was in the chair three hours,
During the three hours I had two bathroom breaks.
Two crowns ...
I could buy two computers for the cost of the two crowns.
I spent most of the rest of the day in bed, sleeping off the novocaine.
The time I didn't spend in bed I spent eating.
I had two Danish.
I had two bowls of ice cream with cool whip.
I had two bowls of chicken soup.
I had a cheesecake sort of thing with cherries.
I might have had more, but I don't remember.
My jaw still hurts.
And I think I caught some kind of intestinal virus because it was cold today and I wore a short sleeve shirt when I should have been wearing a long sleeve shirt and a jacket.
I slept through a movie where Samuel L. Jackson played a crazy dreadlocked vagrant that yelled a lot, what else is new.
These are the socks I wore all day today.

Crotchtal area

So, it's four in the morning and I've just turned off the television, and it's 48 degrees out and raining, and I still have a dentist appointment in six hours, and I haven't shaved yet, and I haven't showered yet, and I haven't slept yet, and I haven't typed bazooms and twats yet, and I've been playing with the photo copier on my printer, and it's a lot of fun, and maybe I'll print some 4x6 glossies of my crotchtal area and sell them on Ebay, or give them away on street corners, or maybe I'll just go to bed and pretend that anybody cares about my crotchtal area, the same crotchtal area that has had shooting pains shooting into it off and on for most of the night, and and and and and ... is that a gun in your crotchtal area or are you just glad to see me.

Bazooms and twats, you want 'em, we got 'em.

I see the dentist in the morning about the filling, or two, that I lost.
And I picked up my two prescriptions.
And I bought some diaper rash medication.
And a twenty pack of 4x6 ink jet photo paper.
And chili, with one l, for lunch.
And some naprowhatever.
And a 44 ounce fountain diet Coke.
And my jaw still hurts.
And I'm still clenching my teeth.
And I saw a cop slap the cuffs on an unruly bicycle rider at the end of my street, and I almost took pictures, but I didn't want to be the guy who sparked the next Rodney King thingimajig, and there was another guy there too, and he was either arguing with the cop, or the guy in cuffs, and the guy in cuffs was not going gentle into that good night, and I was a little concerned about the cop, because he was a skinny young guy, the kind of guy that got picked on as a kid and over compensates by becoming a cop, which is what he did, so I guess that proves that, and if the guy who was arguing was arguing with the cop we could have had the next Onion Field thingimajig, but nothing happened I guess, and what does a guy on a bike have to do to get the cuffs slapped on him, and I think he was one of those guys that doesn't ride a bike for exercise but rides because of past DUI convictions, and the cycle goes on and on and on, and the big wheel keeps on turning and Proud Mary keeps on burning, and my two top search requests are still bazooms and twats, and it's nice that some things are constant, or at least appear to be.

If you can get past the burn you might just reach nirvana if that's what you want to reach.

And my jaw still hurts, and I still lost a filling or maybe two, and I have to call the dentist today, and I need to get refills on both of my meds, and it's five thirty in the morning, and I fell asleep at two thirty and woke up at four and I've been watching tv since then, and my eyes are almost totally crusted over shut, and I'm sitting here looking at this big ass printer/scanner/copier that weighs twenty pounds, and I guess I'm starting to like it, at least until I get the credit card statement, and I seriously have to stop spending so much money on things I don't need, and I've already had breakfast and a glass of diet coke, and I'm still craving ice cream, and the ice cream I'm craving is low fat, with a third less calories, but it's country churned, whatever that means, and it is really rich, but with a third less calories, and how can that be, I mean, I've had low fat ice cream before that more or less tastes like nothing, and like I said, this stuff is really rich tasting, and I never used to like vanilla ice cream, but now it's the only thing I eat, and I also had a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup yesterday, the kind made with white chocolate, and yes, I'm still on a diet, but I'm not trying to lose any more weight, I'm good where I'm at, and I still visit the gym every day, and I walked about five miles yesterday, and maybe that's why my jaw hurts, because I might have clenched my teeth while I was walking, and clenched was the word I couldn't think of in my last post when I was trying to describe what I might have done to make my jaw hurt, and I wanted to take some Advil, or whatever it is that has the generic name naprowhatever, but I couldn't find the bottle that I bought last week, so I ended up taking some tylenol that has been in my drawer for god only knows how long, and I'm not even sure if god knows how long, and that's god with a small "g" as opposed to God with a big "g", if there really is a God with a big "g", but let's not get into that right now, and damn, I'm really starting puke out some blog posts again, aren't I, and I'm doing it for my own enjoyment, or maybe I'm just trying to validate my existence, and I guess that's it, unless you have something to add.

Indian summer is over as of NOW!!!

Ok, I bought a printer today, one of those multifunction print/scan/copy deals, one of the new Kodak ones, which are more expensive than the less expensive ones, and more than I wanted to pay, actually, I didn't want to pay anything because I didn't want to buy a printer, but MB wanted me to get a printer so I could print out any interesting emails that my sister might send, and interesting and my sister is like an oxymoron, or a paradox, or a conundrum, or an accident waiting to happen, and I actually did some research on this purchase which I don't usually do, but since I didn't want a printer in the first place I, ummmm, did the research, and the Kodak 5100 isn't the cheapest one, I mean, I could have gotten a nice HP multifunction for about forty bucks less, but the research that I did that I don't normally do showed me that the ink cartridges for the Kodak are really really really cheap, like ten bucks for black, and fifteen bucks for color, and it's photo quality color, and to top it off besides the standard one black and one color cartridge that you get with the printer they threw in three more color cartridges for free, free, free, and this was only available at the Evil Empire, because I guess Kodak made a deal with the devil, or maybe the Evil Empire made a deal with the devil, or maybe the devil made a deal with me or ... YOU!!!
I'm completely burnt on this post, so let me just say that it took me forever to set the printer up, because the instructions were for shit, or as Wesley from across the street used to say, the instructions were for skita, and now my jaw hurts from doing that thing that makes your jaw hurt, what is it ... cringing, biting down, frowning, setting, I don't know, it's that thing you do with your jaw when you're concentrating real hard and nothing is going right, you know clamping it tight, or something ...
FUCK
Who, what, why, where and how is this post going???
Screw it.
I just hurt all over, and I lost a filling, or maybe two, and I skinned my knee, and I cut myself shaving, and I just noticed I have a scratch on my forearm, and I'm about to lose a toenail, and don't get me started on that, and it's almost two in the morning, but I did get the printer and the scanner working, and do I really need a copier, and my jaw hurts, but I mentioned that, and if you want to read a heart warming post w/picture go here..
And I want ice cream, and a sharp pain just shot up my leg past my thigh and into my crotch, and who says bad things never happen to good people?

By the power of ZANKOU!!!

By the power of ZANKOU!!!

Z - The wisdom of Zeus
A - The strength of Atlas
N - The bitchiness of Nellie Olson
K - The modesty of Ken
O - The popcorn of Orville Redenbacher
And ...
U - The sphincter of Uranus

By the power of ZANKOU I was able to walk 4 miles in fifty minutes setting a new BOZ RECORD of 12.5 minutes a mile!!!



ZANKOU!!!

My day is free until until one this afternoon, or maybe four at the latest.

I'm having a serious case of the not being able to sleep-itis.
Perhaps I should try again.
I downloaded a new browser, there are tons of them out there now.
This one is called Flock.
I wonder why they called it that?
Perhaps I will never know.
I don't think I have ever used the word perhaps twice in a single post before.
Perhaps I never will again.

Hola!!!

This sounds like my kind of movie ...

El Aura (2005)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
553 THMAX: Sunday, October 7 1:35 AM
2005, NR, ***1/2, 02:14, Color, English, ARG/FRA/ESP,

An epileptic taxidermist (Ricardo Darýn) seizes the opportunity to commit the perfect crime after he accidentally kills a man who planned to rob an armored car.

Cast: Ricardo Darýn, Dolores Fonzi, Pablo Cedrýn, Jorge D'Elýa, Alejandro Awada, Rafael Castejýn Director(s): Fabiýn Bielinsky

This is Dolores Fonzi



You know, I am really starting to like Spanish speaking movies, you know, the kind they make in Spain, and Argentina, and Chile, and Mexico, and Cuba, and Puerto Rico, and all those other Spanish speaking countries, but not Brazil, because Brazilians speak Portuguese, which isn't the same as Spanish, even though they share the Iberian Peninsula, well, Spain and Portugal share the Iberian Peninsula, and I think they share some other stuff too, but I'm not sure, and while I was walking at the gym today I saw the evil Pippi Longstockings Wannabe, and I hate that women, because she is about 90 years old, and dyes her hair the same color as a bronze 65 Mustang, and she has pigtails ... she's 90 years old, and she has pigtails, ok, maybe she isn't 90, but she is older than me, and she has pigtails, and she always walks the opposite way of everyone else on the track, and today I tried messing with her mind by walking in the same direction she was, and so she stopped walking, what a bitch, I hate her, bitch ... BITCH.
I'm slowly losing my mind.

If you think I take good nature photos this is the reason why.

Jigsaw puzzles.
Yeah, we always got them for Christmas.
One for each of us.
They were the present we played with after the bigger and cooler presents were broken or lost.
My oldest sister and I were the puzzle solvers.
My other sister didn't care for them, she liked paint by numbers, another present that we always got, and talking on the phone to her friends complaining about what a lousy Christmas haul she got, even though she usually got more than either my older sister and I, and the reason she always got more was because she always complained about what a lousy haul she got, but that is neither here nor there, this is about ...
Jig saw puzzles
But I have to add, that she would be sitting in the middle of a huge pile of stuff pouting, while I was off to the side all by myself having the time of my life in the empty box that her easy bake oven came in.
Jig saw puzzles
My oldest sister and I were the puzzle solvers.
She would start them, usually all by herself, and after I got bored with the easy bake oven box I would go over and help.
And the thing is we always got the same two themes for puzzles every year.
We'd get either fall or winter country scenes.
And you know, after staring at a half finished jig saw puzzle for a day or two you start to notice things, like color and composition, and I guess that has sort of stayed with me, I guess, I guess, I guess ...
That's it, now I'm jonesing for a box of chocolate covered cherries which I never got, oh no, my sisters always got chocolate covered cherries, but not me, I always got a carton of candy cigarettes, yeah, candy cigarettes, and have you ever tried to eat a candy cigarette, it's like pure powdered sugar only hard and tasteless, and actually, I think the boxes that the candy cigarettes came in tasted better than the candy cigarettes did, and another actually, I think candy cigarettes were more hazardous to your health than the Camels that my old man used to smoke, and speaking about cigarettes and Christmas, I always got my old man a special holiday carton of Camels with a picture of Santa Claus puffing away on an unfiltered Camel like some kind of dope fiend, with the evil glint in his eye and everything ...

Don't let my ass hit you on the way out.

I drove to West Branch today.
I bought shower hooks, and shave cream, and men's pants 36Wx34L, they were all 70% off.
I bought a candy bar, one of those fancy ones made by Lindt.
It was chocolate with lemon tart filling.
It cost $2.99, I got it for a dollar.
I took a lot of pictures on the way back.
I've only posted one of them on Buzznet and Flickr.
The same one.
Only cropped differently.
It was a long drive.
I am tired.
I want to go to bed.
I want to take a shower.
I want a corned beef on rye sandwich, with ham instead of corned beef.
I need to clean the bird cage.
I need to clean ???
I need to clean a lot of stuff.
At least my bed is made, and my ass is firm.

I hear the trees, but they aren't saying much, they're just sort of chilling, while listening to that guy that plays the pan flute, and I think his na

me is Zamfir, or Pam Grier, but you know who I mean, please god, let them know who I mean, because I don't want to be that guy, yeah, that guy.

I should be in bed because I am sleepy, or tired, and I always get those two things (sleepy and tired) confused, even though they are not the same, but you have to admit they are similar, and could be confusing to some who has a native tongue other than English, or is on mind altering medication, either legal or the opposite of legal, or, or, o'er ...
That's it, my sinus will not permit me to continue this post into madness, army of madness, river of madness, escape into madness, sadness into madness, badness into madness, bad ass into madness, bad axe (MI) into madness, radness, fadness, cheryl laddness, gratius ...
Fuck, never mind, just fuck, fyck, fyck, fyckg, fuyck, fuck.

Clean living equals clean liver minus x plus y

I accidentally felt my ass tonight, in a completely non-sexual way, honest, and it felt firm, honest.

Post has been updated to include my firm ass captured while I was in the garage dancing and doing laundry, I was washing, and drying, and hanging up shirts, my summer shirts, and with me washing shirts is always a crap shoot, because I never know if they are going to come out nice, or nice and wrinkled, and tonight was a good night, the ones I wanted to come out nice came out nice, and the ones I didn't care about came out nice and wrinkled so I just threw them away, and really, they were old shirts, old shirts that I never really liked, but just don't tell MB because being a Depression Era kid she never throws anything away (Bozzie, you could cut those shirts up and make dishrags out of them, or kites, yeah, you could make kites out of them and sell them at the next craft show, or ... doesn't the hospital need bandages ... or goddamn it, we could eat them, back during the Depression a shirt was considered a delicacy, if you could afford one, and we never could ...

My brain, my brain, my brain, by mrain

So, what do you say, let's have a party.
We can dance, nah, fuck dancing, let's just get drunk, or high, because I'm sure I've got at least one more of each left in this rapidly aging body of mine, and you know what ...
Someone called me an old man today, well, she didn't actually call me an old man, but she said when she saw a group of older men she thought of me, and you know me, with my fragile psyche and stuff, I was driven back to bed by that comment, and I stayed there, in my bed, for the better part of the day, with a flashlight, counting, and naming, the dust bunnies under the bed, and then I feasted on ham, and ham by products and ... sometimes I feel that I use too many commas when I write, write, write, and write, I mean, I know sometimes I should use colons, and semi-colons, and ...



But back to the party.
Shit, it's two thirty in the morning, it's too fucking late for a party now, let's go to New York City instead, and goof on the tourists, but not ourselves and the apostles, and the reason I added the apostles after I said ourselves was because I saw the Jefferson Airplane in concert in 1967 and the opening acts were the Rationals, the MC5, the Ourselves, and the Apostles, so there you go.
So yeah, I'm hopping on a bus right now, right now after I finish this post and I'll see you in NYC sometime in the afternoon, we can meet up at Andy Warhol's place, and I'll be the one with the glasses and the beard sort of goatee thing, and wearing a button that says "Give Peace A Chance Or at Least A Piece Of That Pie Over There".
Thank you, and PS, most of the girls at Andy's place are really guys, so be careful, unless you are into that thing, and more power to you if you are, but, me, myself, I could never get past the whole Adam's Apple thing ..........

Rich guy pants

I went to the St Vincent De Paul thrift store yesterday looking for books.
I didn't buy any, but I seriously considered buying the book that Wilt Chamberlin wrote just before he died, but it looked like one of those self-published kind of things, so I didn't, and I'm kind of glad I didn't because I have tons of books by real writers, that weren't self-published laying around that I haven't even read yet, and to be honest, probably will never read unless someone lights a fire under my ass, or offers to pay me, or fuck me, or befriend me for life.

What I did buy at the St Vincent De Paul thrift store were pants, and this is odd because I have never purchased clothes from a thrift store before unless you count the two suits that I bought the day that my father died, and that was an emergency, because where else can you get a suit, or for that matter, two suits in a small town on short notice, and you know what it is weird about those two suits, well, beside from the fact that they only cost two and a half bucks each, besides that, and besides the fact that they are still hanging in my closet seven years later, and besides all the other besides, besides them, the suit's were both perfect fits, and when they were new they probably cost a couple of hundred bucks each, and la di dah, la di fucking dah, and now back to the pants I bought yesterday at the St Vincent De Paul thrift store ...

After not buying the self-published tome by Wilt Chamberlin, and as I was leaving the store, I quite by accident went down the men's clothing aisle, and I looked, because what harm is there in looking, and I looked, and remember I've lost 40 pounds and two waist sizes over the past four and a half months, and my waist size is now 36, and my length is still 32, which is odd because for years and years my length size was 34, but that was back when bell bottoms were in style back before they are in style now if they really are back in style now, and they might be because I see a lot of people wearing them, or maybe I'm just having false post Vietnam LSD induced flashbacks to the seventies, or then again ...

Anyway, there were pants, there were lots of pants, there were lots of 36W 32L pants, and there were brands like Tommy Hilfiger, and LL Bean, and Eddie Bauer, and Ralph Lauren, and I bought two pairs of Ralph Lauren chinos, and that's what they are called, chinos, and they were like new, ok, they were like used, but they were in excellent condition, seriously excellent condition, and they only cost three dollars a pair, and that's like 1/20th the price of what they would have cost new, and when I got home I tried them on, and they were a perfect fit, and they looked great on me, and when I took the pants off I noticed that there was a dry cleaning tag on them, and the name on the tag was the name of the guy that owns three radio stations in town, and a bunch of other shit in town, and so these pants might very well have been formerly owned by the richest man in town, and not in a Lionel Barrymore/It's A Wonderful Life richest man in town sort of way.

And yeah, I may go back today and complete my wardrobe, and pick up that book by Wilt Chamberlin, but I should probably go back to bed now and rest my weary blah, blah, blah.

Stick it, stick it good,

Fight Club is on in 15 minutes.
I haven't seen it but once and that was about 4 years ago.
It was a good movie, and the fact that Helena Bonham Carter is in it offsets the fact that Meatloaf and Brad Pitt are in it, but you know, I can't really talk about it, and I think you know why, and seriously, I read somewhere that Brad Pitt had some plastic surgery done in preperation for that movie about Alexander, or maybe it wasn't Alexander, but you know it took place back in the old ass times, back before Fight Club, and just before Thelma and Louise took a diver off the cliff, and I'm rambling, but I'm rambling with a purpose, and the purpose is so I won't talk about Fight Club, amen, fuck you, fuck me, fuck Meatloaf with a rubber hose up his nose, and fuck fuck fuck ye merry gentleman, and good King Wenseslas if you have the time.

I might be out of line, but I think Helena Bohnam Carter would make a great lesbian or drug addicted prostitute, or host of a kiddie show with puppets, big ass puppets.

One Monkey Don't Stop No Show even if it is the VMoD

Pictures of Lily have altered my brain.

I was watching a movie based on a semi-autobiographical novel by Charles Bukowski. It starred Matt Dillon as the semi-autobiographical Charles Bukowski, and Lily Taylor as his fuck interest, and really, the only thing harder on the eyes than Lily Taylor/semi-autobiographical Charles Bukowski's love interest walking around drunk in her dirty bra and panties was a drunk Matt Dillon/semi-autobiographical Charles Bukowski fucking a drunk Lily Taylor/semi-autobiographical Charles Bukowski's love interest in her dirty bra and panties, and yes, Lily Taylor is a fine actress, but her best work has always been fully clothed, and I guess the reason I turned the movie off after about twenty minutes was because neither Matt Dillon as the semi-autobiographical Charles Bukowski, or Lily Taylor as his fuck interest could convince me that they weren't Matt Dillon and Lily Taylor trying to be the semi-autobiographical Charles Bukowski and his fuck interest, and to be frank, I always found Bukowski's life more interesting than his writing even though his writing is mostly his life, but hey, that's just me writing about my life ... semi-autobiographically speaking, I guess, and if you get confused with all the semi-autobiographical stuff midway through the post, join the club, the club that has no dues, except time, which I have about an hour less of after writing this snippet from my life, but hey, it's been great.