A day in the life

11 am - I call the pharmacy to refill a prescription for MB.
11:10 am - The pharmacy calls and says Blue Cross Blue Shield has denied the claim. I give the pharmacist some new information and she says she will run it again.
11:15 am - The pharmacy calls back and says BCBS is still denying the claim, and that prescription coverage ended on the 31st of December 2005. The pharmacist suggests that I get in touch with BCBS.
11:20 - 11:30 am - I'm on hold with BCBS.
11:30 am - I am connected with a service rep and she tells me that yes the prescription coverage ended on the 31st of December 2005. The rep gives me the Human Resource phone number for the company that the old man worked for and who is providing the BCBS coverage for MB.
11:35 am - 2:45 pm - I try repeatedly to contact the Human Resource department, repeatedly equals at least 25 times, there is no answer.
2:45 pm - I finally figure out that the number that I was given for the Human Resource department is no longer in service.
2:50 pm - I call the company that the old man used to work for, and I am connected with The United States Credit Union. I try recalling with the same result. The old man didn't work for the United States Credit Union, so yeah, I guess the company that the old man worked for has changed their telephone thingie dingie doo.
2:55 - 3:15 pm - I search through all the old man's retirement papers and finally come up with a number for the local branch of his union.
3:20 pm - I call the number and I am put through to a union rep. He listens to my plight, and says he will ask around until he finds out what the deal is. He says he'll get back to me in the morning.
3:45 pm - The union rep calls me back. He tells me that he has been in touch with his contact with BCBS and according to their records MB should be covered for the rest of her life, but it still shows up that her coverage has been cancelled, on top of that, she is the only one of the group of retirees/spouses covered under that plan who has had her coverage discontinued. The union rep then said he will continue working on it until it is straightened out and get back to me in the morning.
4:45 pm - My back hurts, my legs hurt, my arms hurt, my neck hurts, my telephone hand hurts, and my telephone ear hurts as I silently curse whoever it is who has made this day miserable for me.

Same-o, same-o

I guess I'll get ready for bed, take a couple of tylenol, and stare at the monitor until my eyeballs fall out.

It's raining and it's still January

I just realized that the first day of the week and the last day of the week both start with an S and end in a Y, and apart from that they have totally nothing in common except that most of the time they both happen on the weekend.

Friday Night Fetish

Ok, I'm in a fetish chat room using the nickname Fluffy, and I've just been IM'd by someone calling himself professor. I'm assuming it's a him, because why would a her IM someone named Fluffy?

professor> fluffy, Hi! If youre not busy, care to chat?
Fluffy> I guess so
professor> youre a fem, I guess?
Fluffy> pre-op fem

I guess the pre-op comment scared the professor off.

A few of my fetish room chat mates are
ErectInLycraSpandex
JizzEm
ManInPanties
PerfectDick
and
Grant

You know, Grant has to be the sickest of them all, he's probably trying to sell life insurance or something.

I've been in the room about ten minutes and nobody has said anything in open room.

I'm going to log off and log back in as someone else.
>> ManInDirndl has joined room #Fetish

I can't believe that in the 21st century, in a fetish chat room, that a man in a dirndl isn't flooded with IMs.

Maybe Lookng4ASlut will have me.

I speak in open room.
ManInDirndl> Has anyone seen Dr Hunter Douglas tonight?
No response.

>> submaleCD has joined room #Fetish
Wasn't he in Marvel Comics back in the 80's?

>> Melissa has joined room #Fetish
>> Melissa has left room #Fetish
>> Melissa has joined room #Fetish
>> Melissa has left room #Fetish
>> Melissa has joined room #Fetish
>> Melissa has left room #Fetish
>> Melissa has joined room #Fetish
>> Melissa has left room #Fetish
>> Melissa has joined room #Fetish

Could this be our Melissa???


>> TxK9Master has joined room #Fetish
ManInDirndl> Woof, woof, woof.

Nothing ...
Nothing .....
Nothing ..........

>> ManInDirndl has left room #Fetish

The January of my discontent

This isn't a post, it's boredom.

Winds of forty plus miles per hour whipped my mind into a frenzy of vacant thought

So, I'm sitting here, and my internet connection is down, and the wind is blowing, and I could be watching Kinsey on cable, but I'm not because they make sex seem way too wholesome, and it shouldn't be wholesome unless you're doing it in a tub of milk ...
Two per cent milk.

And I've got new sheets on my bed, and why I am telling you this?
Maybe it's because I'm stupid, wait, not stupid, I mean that word sort of like stupid, well, actually I mean that word nothing like stupid ...

And did I mention my internet connection is still down?

I mean what if I miss something?

What if someone stops by and needs me?

What if someone needs to know that Mick Taylor, not Ron Wood, replaced Brian Jones in the Rolling Stones after Jones supposedly drowned in his own swimming pool, and yeah, I said supposedly drowned in his own swimming pool, because, and don't interrupt me because I'm on a roll here, and yeah, I said supposedly drowned in his own swimming pool because I thought all rock stars that drowned always drowned in a pool of their own ... VOMIT!
Yeah, what if somebody needed to know that???

I'm sorry I can't take the pressure.
I'm going to bed ...
But if there is something you really need to know, you know, something you really really need to know, ahhhhhhhhh
My head hurts.
Good night, and please pray for a speedy return of my internet connection.

More ...

Jesus Christ on a Hot Plate.
That Felix, what a little nob.

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!