If it's Tuesday it must be Tuesday

I'm waiting for the new chair I bought to be delivered.
It's supposed to get here between noon and two.
The bird that mocks me is in the room with me because I don't want her to catch cold when I open the front door to let the furniture guys in.
She is kind of spooked.



Maybe I should turn some music on.
The bird that mocks me likes music.
That's better.
The bird that mocks me seems to like Moby Grape.

It's good to be boz

I'm fighting a losing battle over getting my ass to the gym this morning, fuck it, it's almost afternoon, what should I do?

I just woke up from a dream where there were two naked girls in their early twenties, naked except for their panties, and they were in an alley, and I could only see them from behind, and they both had nice asses, and they were talking as they were walking, and one of them said, I think it was the brunette, and the brunette said something about applying for jobs at the new bakery, or maybe she said NUDE bakery, and that would explain everything except the part about the alley, oh, and the other girl was blond.

Let's dance, or some other song by David Bowie that doesn't involve dancing, or China Girls, or dancing China Girls.

Hi, I'm awake.
Been that way since five this morning.
Had a sandwich, and a diet coke, and a snack size Mounds bar, surfed some tv, and watched five minutes of a really bad movie with Cicely Tyson and Louise Fletcher, got online, checked out some sites I'm involved in, and read an article about good directors and the really bad movies they have made, and now I am going back to bed, and I really need to go to the gym today, because I haven't been since maybe Friday or Saturday, and it makes me feel such shame, but now I am really going back to bed, ok, I've got to check one more site, and then for sure I'm going back to bed, yeah, it's the site where I pretend I'm a velcro monkey ... of doom.

It's nothing, it really is, or isn't, ok, now I'm confused.

I fell in love a little bit today.
With a girl not quite a woman.
It was her hair.
Blond with dark roots pulled back in a ponytail.
With a girl not quite a woman ...
What the fuck?
See, here's the deal.
I was sitting in the Burger King in Standish today, and there was this chick working there, I think she was a manager trainee, and she had this dyed blond hair that just jumped out at me ...
I mean her hair was really amazing. It was obviously dyed some kind of blond, it looked kind of champagne colored to me, and her roots were showing, and here's the amazing thing, it looked like her roots were dyed too, some kind of shade of zombie black, and yeah, I know it sounds hideous, but it was the most amazing color combination I have ever seen ...
And that's it.
I thought I had a post.
But I don't.
It was just her hair.
That's all it was.
Her hair.
And I can't even think of a way to bring it up that she looked just like Paris Hilton.
But it was just her hair.
Seriously.

My fellow Americans

I had a dream about Lyndon Johnson last night.
He was at his ranch in Texas, laughing manically while barbecuing the brains of John F. Kennedy, and serving them to the Mafia, the FBI, the CIA, and Fidel Castro, as Jackie looked on in tears from the grassy knoll.

Shut the fuck up Donny

I've changed my mind about popularity.
Way too much trouble.
Way too much to read.
And besides, the only blog that I find really, really, really, interesting, the only blog that I search out day after day, the only blog that I really love, the only blog that is worth the trouble, the only blog that gives me what I want ...
Well yeah, it's The Grand Ennui.
So let that be a lesson to you.
Rick Nelson was right.
You can't please everyone so you might as well tell everyone to go fuck themselves.
Of course you realize that I don't mean you.



The Dude ... The Big Lebozski

Whatever happened to anti personal mines in their bookbags?

Yesterday I was in the store and two of the clerks were talking about the prank that four high school girls had precipitated that involved toothpicks, and the clerks were clicking their tongues and bemoaning the sad state of affairs of today's youth, when twenty years ago some other clerks in probably the same store were bemoaning the sad state of affairs of the youth of twenty years ago, which the current store clerks were probably part of with their MTV and their video games, and their Madonna-like attitudes, and it it possible that I actually used the word precipitated about five or six lines back ...
And I thought what the fuck kind of prank could involve toothpicks that would cause so much bemoaning by the youth of twenty years ago???
What unfathomable crime or misdemeanor could they have perpetrated?
Of course, my mind was immediately awash with ... AWASH?
Why am I using all the words like precipitated, bemoaning, unfathomable, and awash.
Who am I trying to impress?
Ahhhh, yeah, the tons of new bloggers who have been drawn to The Grand Ennui like moths to a flame in search of THE ANSWER.
But I digress.
So anyway, I went home and looked in the paper and the four teen girls had bought thousands of toothpicks and stuck them in the football field the night before the big game of their cross county rival in retribution for the alleged smearing of fecal matter (the paper's words, not mine) the alleged smearing of fecal matter,by the aforementioned crosstown rival, all over their high school's Alumni Rock located just off the easement where the short bus picks up all of the special kids, and on, and on, and on.

That's it, chocomate kudasi*, sayonara means goodbye.

*half assed attempt at phonetic spelling of Japanese words that I don't even know the meaning of.

Greetings to all my new blogging buddies, if you stay till the end there will be snacks.

I saw some gamerboys in the parking lot of Kmart on Friday. They just had that gamerboy look about them, the glasses, the 1970's hair, the ass cracks, the sneakers, the ass cracks, the six pack of Jones Soda, and the baleful stare of a guy who has never talked to a woman in his life without stuttering or going home and masturbating about it afterwards. (Don't ask how I know.)

And yeah, Dexter is about to start and I will be taking screenshots because Dexter's sponsor, if you are to believe the previews from last week, will be sporting headlights.

Dexter's sponsor.



She's British, and I forget her name, but she used to be on Hustle, and who knows, maybe she even used to do the Hustle (Do the hustle!!!), and she curses with the most charming accent, and I just hope that Dexter doesn't kill her.

I think I invented the word gamerboy because nothing else fit.

I'll be George S. Kaufman, and you can take turns being the other guys.

My new goals for blogging.
1. Visit new blogs.
2. Trick the new blogs I visit into visiting me.
3. Endear myself to these new blogs.
4. Separate the new blogs into interesting blogs and boring blogs.
5. Delete the boring blogs after a pity comment or two.
6. Cultivate the interesting blogs and develop a circle of friends where witty give and take abounds, not unlike the Algonquin Round Table, or at least not unlike the big round table in the center of the dining area in the local McDonald's where they sit all day nursing one coffee, one fucking coffee, all day, and talking real loud, and whenever I drop a french fry or spill my diet coke, they all stop talking, and I can feel their eyes burning and ripping into my flesh, and I know they hate me, because I'm not like them, because I could never be like them, because I don't wear the "cool" sneakers, or the "cool" sweaters, or the "cool" hat with my favorite team's logo on it.
7. Become the focal point of this group.
8. Develop slang and code words to keep the outsiders outside.
9. Set aside one day a month for ... I don't know, something special, real special, like "write backwards day" or "who cares about world peace day, not us day" or maybe even something frivolous.
10. Eventually get around to tithing the rest of the group.

Cock Appreciation 101

For the past couple of months whenever I wake up in the morning my hand is on my cock.
I've been hesitant to write about this before, because, well, because it feels kind of strange to write about your cock, or I guess I should say my cock.
I'm just sort of touching it.
Making sure it's still there.
Making sure it still works.
Appreciating it.
[Insert picture of my hand on my cock HERE]

I should be doing something ... ANYTHING!!!

My stomach is making angry noises.
I want to go walk at the track at the community center but I think I'd have to make a pit stop every other lap.
The mail just passed, I am going to go check it.
My mail box is out by the road ... eh, I'm rural, I guess.
It is very windy today, all the leaves are blowing off the trees.
I feel like Walt Whitman.
My stomach tells me I'm full of shit.
And now the mail ...
Bill, bill, junk.

If my heart stops beating you'll be the first to know, unless somebody else is the first to know firster-er

It's raining.
I can hear the rain.
My eyes are sort of glazed over, and I'm having trouble typing, and I feel a sneeze coming on, but not just yet ...
NOW!!!!!!
Not one, but seven of them.
People have always said I sneeze like a cat, and I guess I do, rapidly and in quick succession.
Sort of like Ah.... chooo, chooo, chooo, chooo, chooo, chooo, chooo.
Just one Ah, followed by a lot of chooos.
And it's still raining.
And I can still hear it.
And my computer is making that noise, yeah, that noise.
And it's almost four in the morning, but I laugh at sleep!
Ha.
And sleep laughs back at me.
And we stare each other down.
Sleep, it's hands on it's hip, tapping it's foot, staring intently.
Me, playing it cool, grinning, showing utter disdain.
Sleep blinks ...
I win!!!
Fuck you sleep, I'm going to bed, and on my own terms, you bastard.

Don't make me whip out #117

Ok, I'm slowly starting to turn this into a real blog again, and remember when we all hated the word blog, but you know now ... well now, who the fuck cares what it's called.
So yeah, a real blog again, of course to do that I'll have to start visiting other real blogs, and leaving comments and shit, you know, I'll have to interact (((shudder))).
But yeah, I'm having fun here again.
You know with the posts that go nowhere.
And the pictures of boobs and twats (I'm sorry, I have to type "boobs and twats" at least once a week, it's in my contract.)
And more parenthetical asides !!! (!!!)
And it's almost time for this movie I started watching a couple nights ago with Polly Bergen, about her gay thirteen year old grandson, and her gay male nurse, and the whole coming of age gay in america, and did you know that back in the 60's Polly Bergen was the first female president of the United States, so eat your heart out Hillary, nobody cares who's second, just ask Buzz What'shisname, and where are the Polly Bergen's of my youth?

What's right is right, and what's left is left.

I think I should tell you that it's five thirty and I've been awake since four thirty after falling asleep at three.
I think I should tell you that one of the temporary crowns that I got a couple weeks ago, the one on the upper left side, is really hurting.
It's sort of swollen, or irritated, and the pain is kind of a dull throbbing pain, and the more I fixate on it the more it hurts.
Today is Friday (is it really Friday already?), and my next dental appointment, the one where he puts in the permanent crowns is next Monday.
I think I'll live, because it's not like the pain is constant, it comes and goes, and like I said, fixating on it only makes it worse, so it's only natural that late at night, or early in the morning, even if you aren't asleep, your mind is more relaxed, and oh great, now my left ear hurts, and my lower left back too, and as I look down at my left hand I notice that two of my fingers are missing, yes, two of them, the two smallest fingers on my left hand are definitely missing, there's no blood, there's no wound, it's like the two smallest fingers on my left hand never existed, and now I'm really getting scared, this is like something out of Kafka, Bob Kafka, the Bob Kafka who had the dorm room next to me when I spent a week in San Angelo Texas at an Air Force conference back in 1971, yeah, that Bob Kafka, THE BOB KAFKA THAT WAS MISSING THE TWO SMALLEST FINGERS ON HIS LEFT HAND!!!
I hope this isn't freaking you out, but fuck, I only have three fingers on my left hand, and my upper left temporary crown hurts, and my left ear hurts, and my lower left back hurts, and remember last week when I told you about the shooting pain that ran up my leg, my LEFT leg, and into my left testicle, remember that, and I hope that I didn't conjure up anything when I mentioned my left testicle, that is unless you wanted to conjure up something (nudge, nudge).
So anyway, he says as he clears his throat ...
I'm going back to bed, and leave my left testicle out of it, unless, well, just unless.

Google boz48730 and see what page the first naked photo of some girl with glasses, red hair, and fishnets turns up on. I'm betting it's page three.

I think I am going to pass out from the sheer excitement of being me.
But first I'd better ...
Wash my hands
Think about getting a hair cut
Clear my throat
Yeah, I'm about to pass out.
Yeah, naked girls love to read my blog while they are naked and fantasizing about me.

We Shall Overcome

I've been protested into submission.

The end of an era

I bought a new webcam this week.
It will be delivered tomorrow afternoon or early evening.
It was a great deal.
I couldn't turn it down.
I feel kind of melancholy though because my old webcam has been a real trooper.
I don't know how long I've had it.
Maybe three, maybe four years.
It still works great.
Except whenever I boot up my computer the webcam goes ...
CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK
So, to honor my old webcam I am going to spend it's remaining time snapping pics with it and posting them to a buzznet folder called
Old Webcam Extravaganza of Pics.
Feel free to pay your last respects.

A history of violins.

I like Maria Bello.



She is a great actress.
She can play slutty.
She can play corporate executive.
She can play slutty corporate executive.
She has nice boobs, a little small, but still nice, and excellent pokies, and when I say pokies I mean nipples, so why didn't I just say nipples, maybe it's the last vestiges of our American puritanical history, NIPPLES!!!
She has an Italian name, but doesn't look Italian.
I think she has had a nose job, but better a nose job than a boob job.
She was really good as a hooker in The Closer, and she was also really good as the wife in A History of Violence, where she dressed up in her high school cheerleader costume and role played with her husband, and ...
She was fucking awesome in the scene where her husband and her, after having a violent argument, sort of crawled up the stairs, quasi-raping each other all the way up.
But yeah, Maria Bello is some kind of hot.

I hear noises

I've deleted my last post.
It was a picture of my new shoes with me in them.
I just didn't feel right about the picture.
Maybe it was the black socks I was wearing.
I don't know.
I did figure out what I will do with the digital picture frame I bought yesterday.
Did I mention that I bought a digital picture frame yesterday?
Anyway, I'll fill it with pictures and give it to MB for xmas.
See, I've got two months to get it just the way I want it.
And ...
It has a seven inch LCD screen.
And ...
It works with all kinds of memory cards plus usb flash drives.
And ...
It plays mp3s.
And ...
It plays videos.
So ...
I guess I'm finished with my xmas shopping.
Yeah, I was going to say something about the Zune I bought, but I changed my mind.