We were very young and we thought that we were winning

I was listening to Leonard Cohen's Songs From A Room on the drive home last night and it flashed me back to when I was going to tech school at Keesler AFB, down in Mississippi, back in 1969.
I had a cheap record player, and a bunk on the second floor, right next to the fire escape.
And on Friday nights Thornberg, Johnson and I, and whoever else happened to be around, would congregate on the fire escape after lights out.
And we'd drink a little 3/2 beer.
Or if were lucky, somebody knew somebody, who know somebody, and there'd be a bottle of whiskey to pass around.
And we'd chain smoke Marlboros.
And we'd talk.
And we'd laugh.
And we'd rag on each other.
And then someone would put on an album.
And we'd listen to ...
Songs From A Room
Nashville Skyline
Abbey Road
The Band
Crosby Stills and Nash
And I don't know.
It just seemed so right.
It just seemed that we were the only people on earth who understood.
You know, really understood.
But it was probably just the smoke clouding our vision.
Or the booze clouding our minds.
Or maybe it was just the fact that were nineteen years old and were stuck out in the middle of Bum Fuck Mississippi, and we had to believe something just to make it through another Friday night.

This Weeks One Dollar VHS Purchase and kind of review

This week's One Dollar VHS tape from the Dollar Aisle at Sav-A-Lot is
Casa de los Babys directed by John Sayles.



This weeks selection was a hard choice. I was considering two other movies, one was Indian Runner directed by Sean Penn and based on the song State Trooper or Highway Patrolman by Bruce Springsteen, and now that I've thought about it I'm pretty sure it was Highway Patrolman, but really, what does it matter, I didn't get that one, but maybe next week, but ehhh, maybe not, because I've seen parts of it and it wasn't all that good.
And ahhhh, I can't remember what the other movie I was considering was, but it to doesn't really matter because I didn't choose it either.
So Yeah...
Casa de los Babys directed by John Sayles
And yeah, John Sayles is one of my favorite directors with such indie films as ...
fuck it, just read his bio at IMDB.
Casa de los Babys, as is typical in Sayles films, follows several story lines.
All of them pretty good and all centered around a mythical Latin American country whose chief export is babies.
Ok, I'm starting to get tired and confused.
Let me just say, that yeah, this is a pretty good movie and I think everyone should see it, and it's not just a chick flick even though it's mostly about women and babies, but still, yeah, it's still pretty good.
Did you see that Marcia GAY Harden is one of the stars?
I mean what kind of name is GAY, I mean she isn't GAY, but she is a bitch, well, not in real life, but in the movie she is, but no, she isn't GAY, but I'm pretty sure that Lili Taylor's character is GAY, and that Maggie Gylenhalleaictrid's character is rich, and that Darryl Hannah's character is New Age Freaky, and the other Mom Wannabe who I can't remember the name of is Irish, oh yeah, that would probably be Susan Lynch, and funny that doesn't sound Irish, does it, and yeah, I left out Mary Steenbergen, but she is just annoying, and she married a Whoopi Goldberg reject, so I mean, what the fuck!
I think I'm going to listen to that Springsteen song.
Seriously, I haven't been feeling all too well lately, and no it has nothing to do with the zoloft withdrawal, but maybe if I puked or something I might feel a little better.
Oh, I just remembered what the other movie was. It was the 1967 release How I Won The War, directed by Richard Lester, and starring that guy who played in Phantom of the Opera on Broadway, and John Lennon was in it too, and so were a lot of other English guys, and I think the reason I didn't buy it was because I had seen part of it before and the British accents were pretty thick, and it was arty pretentious like a lot of British films were in the 60s. The novel on the other hand was fucking hilarious, it least I thought it was hilarious when I was 18.

Buddy, can you spare me a dime?

Hey, what is up with you people?
I've been checking you out, and yeah, I know, I don't leave a lot of comments anymore, but still, I've been checking you out, and yeah, I've noticed I've been demoted from the exalted upper status of your links list to links list hell, yeah, that's right, you've got me listed under Google Search.
I am a fucking blog god, an icon, a legend, an innovator, I AM BOZ, fucking 4, fucking 8, fucking 7, fucking 3, fucking 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0.
And now I am less than Google Search.
Thanks, yeah, thanks a lot.
Hey, I didn't know you could personalize Google!!!
Cool.

He's the kind of artist rents a groovy little attic and discovers that he can't grow a beard

Don't bother me, leave me alone.
I'm caught in the 60's ... again.
Fred Neil
Richard and Mimi Farina
Leonard Cohen
I mean they're all here with me right now as I type.
Country Joe and the Fish
The Jefferson Airplane
The Stones
It's A Beautiful Day
The Young Rascals and the Rascals ... one group, two names, all grown up, it had to be the 60's.
Spirit
Captain Beefheart
Procul Harum
The Pretty Things - ok, I've never actually listened to the Pretty Things, but I've seen pictures, and trust me, they aren't pretty, but it's the 60's, dammit, the 60's!!!
John Mayall
Cream
The Small Faces ... the Fuckin' Small Faces, they's some crazy fuckers.
The Kinks, the Kinks, the Kinks, the forgotten gods of rock!!!!!!!!!!
The Byrds
Vanilla Fudge
Arlo "What'd ya get kid? I didn't get nuthin, and I had to pick up all the garbage." Guthrie
C'mon, admit, you wish you had the 60's floating around somewhere in your Medula Oblongata
The Paul Butterfield Blues Band
Jeff Beck
And ...
And ....
And .....
And ......
Fuck it, nevermind

I know who you are, and I know where you live

No time to post, no time to post, no time to post!!!
I've got to get my sort of brand new car up to the dealership because the fuel gauge is not functioning properly ... huh, the car is like six weeks old.
So yeah, and did I mention that my head has felt like it is on the verge of exploding all weekend, and it still feels like it, and the tylenol I just took gave me an upset stomach, and I had to buy a fat man belt this weekend too, but in other news there isn't any blood oozing out of any my orifices, so yeah, I've got to run.

A parody of a parody

Not Ready For Real World ... Blogger Style



The Real World ... Blogger Style

Let's do lunch, and then KILL KILL KILL

I think I'm going blind.
I think I'm going mad.
I think I'm going to be sick.
I think I'll sever the nerve just there in the back of my neck and maybe the pain will go away.
Seriously, I think I'll stick a finger down my throat and puke up the bile of 55 years of my wretched horrid life.
Or maybe I'll just have a popsicle.
Or maybe I'll just listen to some happy happy happy HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY DIE DIE DIE DIE music.
Jesus fucking christ, my head feels like it is about to explode!!!
I wonder if the SciFi channel is still running that Twilight Zone marathon.
Goodnight.

Pudding the an back in anarchy since 1971 ... mmmm pudding

I stumbled upon a group political blog just now at 5:46 in the morning.
So much hatred, so much hatred, so much hatred ... so ... much ... hatred.
Ok, I do not like political blogs which probably stems from my disdain for all things political, but it seems a lot of you people do, do like politics, or political blogs, I'm not sure, it's like 5:52 now and whatever sense I thought this post was going to make has gone the way of the Edsel, the Pinto, and the Santa Maria ...
Ok, yeah, a lot of you people are political, a lot of you people who I love and respect are political,
Or ...
A lot of you people who I have developed a certain asexual fondness for are political, and it's good that you hide this from me, but shouldn't you be required to put some kind of warning on these blogs ... huh???
WARNING: THE FOLLOWING BLOG MAY CONTAIN POLITICAL STUFF SO BOZ PLEASE KEEP OUT.
If you think it's easy being an idiot savant try walking a mile in my shoes one of these days when you aren't so busy with your politics and your political blogs, yeah!!!
Thanks, I feel better now.
Did somebody mention pudding?
I'm starved.

Don't get me started, but if you do make mine a Lone Star

Ok, so I saw the VHS version of Bubba Ho-Tep in the Dollar Section of the local supermarket the other day so I bought it. I'm not sure if it was new or used, but since the movie basically sucked the big red one it doesn't really matter.



Even the Velcro Monkey of Doom hated it, that's his hand in the corner trying to wave away the stink of the movie, and the VMD is a major Bruce Campbell fanmonkey from way back.
Actually, Bruce Campbell reminded me more of Kurt Russell as Elvis than he did of Elvis as Elvis, and we all know that ELVIS spelled inside out is LIVES, and if you throw in a superfluous R it spells LIVERS, and how many of you out there remember the message board called Superfluous Tube Socks, well, probably not many, because if you did it would still be around, and that's the first time that you people broke my heart, because I was the heart and soul behind Superfluous Tube Socks, and it still hurts, and I'll never forget it, and if Elvis were alive he wouldn't forget it either, because yeah, Elvis and me were close, yeah, closer than brother's, and no, those rumors about the two of us are totally untrue, in fact, I introduced him to Priscilla back in the day, I mean yeah, I was only eight at the time, but Priscilla was only 12, so it's possible I'm not totally full of bull shit, but yeah ...
Bubba Ho-Tep sucked.

Silly songs for 200

If you were to burn a CD that had to have songs with either the word
Georgia
or
Rain
or
Midnight
or
Train
in the title, what songs would you select?

Dazed and Confused

Ok, I got this great bargain today. A ten dollar pair of Led Zeppelin boxer shorts reduced to 85 cents. The only problem is they are a SMALL and I'm not.

So ...
If anyone would like a pair of MEN'S SMALL Led Zeppelin boxers let me know and they are yours. In case more than one person is interested I'll do a random drawing.
Absolutely no strings.



Front


Back

The little bird that could ...

Couldn't

Block

I'm having trouble with my short story Debbie Does Dallas, the Three Hundred Pound Samoan, and Me.
But I can tell you a little bit about it.
There's a 300 pound Samoan, obviously.
There's a teenage girl running down the street at two in the morning, wearing nothing but a hospital gown, being chased by a very angry nurse.
There's an alcoholic known as Shakey Jake.
There's two porno theaters located next door to each other.
There's a black guy with a secret.
There's a short Jewish guy with an illegal beard.
There's a Hispanic limo driver and part time pimp.
And, uh, there's me.
Oh yeah, and then there's Debbie ... and Dallas.

Buzznet Audio

I'm not pushing Buzznet or anything, but you can now upload mp3s to your account for all the world to hear.
Check out my tunes and try to tell me I don't have my finger on the pulse of America ... nay, the worlds' musical tastes.
Right here ...
Click on Launch Player, or something.

It's as if ...

I don't know what to think now.
I took the cover off the birds' cage at six thirty this morning, and there she was all scrunched up, sitting on the perch, in the corner, all by herself, staring me straight in the eye as if to say:
I'm not dead yet mother fucker.

Don't tell me I don't have any fucking empathy

Ok, this is getting pretty fucking freaky.
The dying bird, right.
So, I'm sitting here, not doing anything, minding my own business when I hear this one lone plaintive little chirp, the kind of chirp that just breaks your heart, and I'm thinking, well, it can't be long now. Then about a minute or so later, I hear another chirp, just as plaintive and heartbreaking as the last one, and I'm thinking, way to go bird, do not go gentle into that good night. Then another minute or so later, and another chirp, I mean, surely this one must be the death rattle, right, and I'm thinking how am I going to break this to MB, I mean she takes this kind of thing a lot harder than I do. Then, I don't know, a couple of minutes later, I hear another chirp, and I mean, I'm just about on the verge of tears here, the zoloft you know. So I decide I'm going to check on the birds, I mean, they're covered up for the night, but dammit, I mean, shit, nobody wants to die alone in the dark, do they? So, I'm in the living room trying to screw up enough courage to look in the cage, and then I hear another chirp ... and I look up ... and it's the fucking smoke detector and the weak fucking battery signal!
Yeah, it's the zoloft, the fucking zoloft!

Bereft of life

I am kind of bummed out tonight.
I had planned on starting a somewhat more ambitious writing project this weekend that I had hoped would lead to a short story that I could submit somewhere for publication.
I was going to call it Debbie Does Dallas, the Three Hundred Pound Samoan, and Me and it would have been a mostly true account about a week I spent in San Angelo Texas when I was in the Air Force back in the summer of 1971.
But like I said, I'm kind of bummed tonight.
I'm pretty sure that one of my two remaining birds is about to die. It's the same bird that I thought was about to die last summer, I mean, that's the trouble with this particular bird, she's such a keep to herself little bird that she always looks like she is about to die, but yeah, this time I think it is for real, yeah, if falling off the perch every ten minutes is any indication, I think it's for real.
I'm not bummed because this particular bird is dying, I mean it's just a bird, not a dog or a cat, or a second cousin, it's just a bird. I get bummed when anybody or anything is about to die ...
Colonel Blake from MASH
Charlotte from Charlotte's Web
Billy Joe McAllister from Ode to Billy Joe
Yeah, they all bummed me out, and of course ...
There's this whole zoloft thing.

Ok, I'll still write the short story, I'll just throw a dying bird into the mix.

Playing right field and batting clean-up for your Cleveland Indians

I think this zoloft withdrawal is starting to get to me.
I saw that guy again today. The guy with the empty gas can.
Only today he was in black face and wearing a Cleveland Indian's baseball cap.
Ok, it is Minstrels Eat For Half Price at the Holiday Inn today, but still ...

Even then, and then even more so

Oh
I can't get over the fact that it isn't Monday. I mean all day has been Monday to me, even after five minutes ago of just realizing that it's actually Thursday I'm back to thinking that it's Monday.
No, not last Monday, but next Monday. I talk about the past a lot, but I don't live in it, thank you very much.
I also feel like singing show tunes from some 50's Broadway musical, like I'm some kind of 21st century Howard Keel.
I hope this can all be explained away as zoloft withdrawal.

An exercise in writing at three thirty in the morning ... Part two

When I was in Burger King this afternoon a man walked in carrying an empty gas can.
He ordered a double cheeseburger and a carton of chocolate milk. He set the gas can down and nudged it along with his foot as he moved through the line. While he waited for his order he shared a joke with the teenage boy behind the counter and they both laughed. When his order was ready he picked up his gas can with one hand and his tray with the other and walked to a booth by the far exit. I didn't see him after that because I was facing in the opposite direction and I didn't want my curiosity to appear obvious. About five minutes later I got up to go get a refill on my coke and shot a glance his way, but he was already gone, along with his gas can, and his fumes.

Dr Hunter Douglas ... the College Years

Dear Penthouse Forum,
I never thought this would happen to me.
Last night I was at the college Laundromat all by myself when all of a
sudden Tiffany the head cheerleader walks in to do her laundry.
Tiffany looked at me and said hi, and I smiled and I answered back hi
too. After Tiffany loaded all of her cheerleader unmentionables in the
machine she realized that she didn't have any soap. So she came up to
me and asked if I had any soap. I told her that I did, that I
had lots of soap, and when I reached over to get my soap to give to
Tiffany I could sense that she was staring at my nine and a half
inches of throbbing manhood as it pressed against the thin material of
my sweatpants, and right then and there Tiffany fell down on her knees, and told me that I was hotter than Brad the college football quarterback.
Tiffany then pulled down my sweatpants and my maroon Fruit of the Loom boxer briefs and proceeded to orally pleasure me.
After what seemed like hours I shot my hot man juice and Tiffany proceeded to swallow every bit of it even though it must have been at least a quart load. We then went back to our laundry totally ignoring each other for the rest of the night.
Then while walking on campus this morning I spotted Tiffany with some of her cheerleader girl friends.
I could tell that Tiffany wanted to say hi to me, but when her cheerleader friends started pointing and laughing at me Tiffany had to pretend to ignore me.
All I know is that I can't wait until the next time I have to do laundry, and you can bet I will take lots of soap.
Yours Truly
Hunter ... College Student

The latest from Doctor Hunter Douglas ... Under Cover Spam Police

I received this email this morning:
Dear Hunter Douglas,

(May the Lord God be with you and your family amen). Thanks for your response. As I told you earlier, because of my illness, I am leaving the process of the transfer of this money from here to be handled by one of the trusted Doctors here in the hospital. I have told the doctor about you and the doctor requsted to talk to you on phone. Please let me have your telephone number so that the doctor will be able to speak with you. Please also remember that, your bank account will be needed for the transfer of the money, so please send your bank account informtion so that I will send it to the bank for the transfer procedures to continue.
I wait for your urgent response.
Yours,
Elizerbeth.

My reply:

My Dearest Elizerbeth,
Thank you for making your last letter so much shorter because
sometimes my attention span is too short to read really long letters.
Don't worry though, I read most of your earlier letters all the way
through, at least the parts that I understood.
Can this doctor man at the hospital be trusted? Because even though I
am myself a doctor I have a hard time trusting other doctors because
of this one time when I was going to doctor school a classmate of mine
who was also going to doctor school and who was named Dr Pepper kept
telling me that Nurse Beverly, she was the prettiest nurse at the
doctor school, anyway Dr Pepper kept telling me that Nurse Beverly
said she would like to have sex with me. I hope I don't offence you
when I say sex just like that, but this was before I was a borned
again Christian and there were many times where all I could think of
was having of the sex. Of course when I asked Nurse Beverly to have
sex with me she laughed in my face and told me if I ever bothered her
again she would tell her doctor boyfriend named Doctor Popeye about it
and he would hit me till I hurt real bad.
So this is why it is important that I know if your doctor friend can be trusted.
You also told me that you would like to send me a picture of yourself
and your now dead husband. I would really like this because I would
like to see what you looked like before you got so sick and before
your husband got so dead. If possible could you send me a picture of
the two of you at the beach, you know, wearing bathing costumes.
I am awaiting your further instructions
Jesus Loves Me, and I'm Pretty Sure He Loves You Too,
Hunter Douglas, Doctor of Lycanthropic Surgery, University of My Lady
of the Screaming Virgins

Read the rest of the thread here.

A tale of two tire irons

Okay, for the most part I think this is a pretty good post.
But, ahhh, it's been pointed out to me that the following line is a bit over the top.

As I stopped and rolled down my window the woman looked at me nervously, reached into the front seat of her car and pulled out a tire iron.

And, yeah, I'd have to agree with that assessment, so, I give you ...

Ten things she could have pulled out of the front seat instead of a tire iron.

1. She reached into the front seat and pulled out a copy of The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran.
2. She reached into the front seat and pulled out a reuben sandwich with sauerkraut.
3. She reached into the front seat and pulled out an Elvis impersonator who also happened to be a midget.
4. She reached into the front seat and pulled out ... this isn't going too well is it?
5. She reached into the front seat and pulled out ... I mean when I was driving back from the video store earlier tonight I couldn't stop laughing at the possibilities.
6. She reached into the front seat and pulled out ... but hey, if you're looking for something really good you should try the Dr Hunter Douglas Undercover Spam Police thread right here.
7. She reached into the front seat and pulled out ... so far so good on quitting zoloft, oh yeah, and I'd like to thank Grampa for his encouragement ... worse than heroin withdrawal, yeah, geez, thanks a lot.
8. She reached into the front seat and pulled out ... hey, have any of you heard of a group named Rilo Kiley, I kind of like them, I kind of like them a lot.
9. She reached into the front seat and pulled out ... I watched Family Guy for the first time ever last night, and you know the daughter, well, she'd be pretty cute for a cartoon chick in an emo type way if her boobs were a little bigger, and you know, if I were a teenage cartoon guy I think I could get my freak on for her.
10. She reached into the front seat and pulled out ... TWO HUGE FREAKING TIRE IRONS, AND A GUN, AND A KNIFE, AND SOME OF THOSE NINJA THINGS.

Dear Elizerbeth

Dr Hunter Douglas ... of the Undercover Spam Police replies to Mrs Elizerbeth Rajan.

Dear Elizerbeth,
May I call you Elizerbeth? It's such a pretty name.
I'm sorry to hear of your soon to be fatal illness. If you'll pardon my French, that must really suck.
Yes, yes, yes, I am the one to be entrusteded with your late husbands and your soon to be late hard earned money.
I agree it should be used for the poor orphaned children and that god stuff you mentioned too.
May I suggest that we make a substantial donation to the Jacko Jackson Home for Boys With No Parents and Cute Bottoms? It has always been one of my favorite charities.
You ask about my familybackgrand. I am sad to report to you that it was quite tragic. My original parents were killeded while doing missionary work in the small south sea island nation of St Boz on the Half Shell when they were mistaken for breakfast by a local indigenous tribe. After that I was raised by an older couple by the name of Mr and Mrs Carney Folk.
Alas, you are weak, and ill, and I am afraid my tales of woe can only weaken you more.
Tell me what you need of me, and please hurry, because you sound really really sick.
Yours in God and all Godlike things
Hunter Douglas, Doctor of Lycanthropic Surgery, University of My Lady
of the Screaming Virgins

Dr Hunter Douglas of the Undercover Spam Police is back in business

I sent this email in reply to an internet scam email I received the other day.

Dear Mrs Elizerbeth Rajan,
I am also a borned again Christian, and after thinking on your
propositon for two days without food nor drink, our God, the big man,
came to me in a visison and told me to put my trust in you Mrs
Elizerbeth Rajan.
Yours in Jesus and God,
Hunter Douglas, Doctor of Lycanthropic Surgery, University of My Lady
of the Screaming Virgins

I received her reply today.
See all the correspondence here.

Z is for zombies, and zoloft and z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z

So here's the thing.
I'm trying to streamline my life a little bit, cut out some of the excess baggage, get back to fighting trim, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, and the blah you rode in on.
So, when I had my annual check-up last week I asked my doctor if I could stop taking zoloft ...
Zeke ...
Ziggy Stardust ...
The big Z ...
Zetc, zetc, zetc ...
Ok, zoloft is mostly prescribed for depression, but it's also prescribed for anxiety, and yeah, anxiety, that's why I'm taking it.
And I don't want to hear any of your zoloft horror stories because it's taken me from the brink of insanity to the brink of sanity, and really what more can you ask for from your friendly neighborhood pharmaceutical???
So, yeah, the doctor said I could cut out the zoloft. Right now I'm taking 50 megs every other day for two weeks, and then after that I stop cold ...
Ummm, yeah, things could get strange for awhile, but stick with me, and if I get too whiggy you have my permission to take me aside and, you know, sort of give me a talking to.
Ha, I had to go back because I typed persimmon instead of permission.
Ummm, yeah, so it's been six years, and ummm, yeah, and zoloft has become sort of like the brother I never had, or never particularly wanted, and ummm, yeah, and when did my knuckles get so hairy???
I think I'd better go back to bed now, you know, to sleep, or ummm, sleep, yeah, that's what I need, a little sleep.
So, ummm, don't forget to unplug the coffee maker when you leave, ok.

It's like raisin bran without the raisins

What's it really like?

It's like that song by ABBA that always pops into my head as soon as I step into the shower.

It's like that dream where I get lost in the halls between classes in high school.

It's like that one time I smoked hash and saw Jesus, and Mao, and Che, and Malcolm X, and Lenny Bruce taking on the Harlem Globetrotters at the Garden in NYC.

It's like reading a book in a moving car and getting a headache that lasts a week.

It's like the time I ran head first into a tree while playing touch football and after assuring everyone I was alright I took two steps and passed out cold.

It's like the time I ate fruit cake because there was nothing else to eat.

It's like that time in 1971 when I was in the Dallas/Ft. Worth airport waiting for a connecting flight to Detroit and I couldn't take my eyes off that skinny girls ass who was wearing a way too short pair of cut-off jeans.

It's like sitting at the computer at two in the morning with my feet propped up listening to the wind howl, and the computer hum, and my ears ring, and, and, and, and, and ...

Yeah, it's just like that.

Today

I'm sitting here in this funky old shirt that my nephew, the male model, gave me about ten years ago. I think it was part of the wardrobe he wore in a modeling job he was on for either JC Penny, or Dillards, or maybe it was some kind of college magazine supplement he was involved in, who knows!
I used to make fun of him and call him Kyle the Male Model, which was odd because his name isn't Kyle, but you know, Kyle sounds like a good name for a male model, but he didn't like it, I guess male models are pretty thin skinned when it comes to their craft ...
So I don't know if he gave me this shirt as a present or as pay back. It doesn't matter though because I only wear it when I am desperate to make a post.

Me, in the funky old shirt busting a male model move that my nephew the male model taught me, the nephew that isn't named Kyle, and who has no sense of humor.

An exercise in writing at three thirty in the morning

As I was driving home last night just before dusk and before the fog had settled in I saw a car with it's hood up on the other side of the road. There was a little girl with a toy whistle in her hand leaning against the back bumper of the car. The girl was singing softly to herself while she nonchalantly kicked at the pebbles near her feet. Her mother was talking on a cell phone and gesturing frantically. As I stopped and rolled down my window the woman looked at me nervously, reached into the front seat of her car and pulled out a tire iron. The woman then called towards her daughter. The little girl looked up, then looked towards her mother, and then towards me. The little girl then dropped her whistle and ran for her mother. I rolled my window back up and drove away eyeing the car in my rear view mirror until it was out of sight.

The Three Penny Opera

So, I remember when I was a kid, a kid kid, you know about seven or eight years old, and cigarettes used to cost like twenty seven cents a pack, and if you bought them in a cigarette machine for thirty cents,
whoa, there used to be cigarette machines Uncle Boz,
well, yeah little Timmy of course there were, it was the 50's and anything was possible,
and if you bought them in a cigarette machine for thirty cents there would be three pennies taped to the pack of cigarettes, and if you were a cool teenage guy who had a car you would tape the pennies to the dashboard of your car until you had hundreds of dollars in pennies, which would probably make your dashboard more valuable than the rest of your car, unless of course you were the boyfriend of the cheerleader girl, radiant in her auburn haired ponytail and bobby sox, who lived down the street and you had a part time after school and all day Saturday job bagging groceries at the Wrigley's supermarket in the Eastgate Shopping Center, and you were able to afford a metallic baby blue 1958 Chevrolet Biscayne 2 door coupe that you took to the body shop and had the name Blue Tango three color detailed on the right rear quarter panel, a car which by the way I have still have dreams about, dreams which mostly include the cheerleader girl, radiant in her aurburn haired pony tail and bobby sox, who lived down the street, well then, that would be different.
But I digress.
Click.

(((CLICK)))

Last one out get the light.

Survey

I'm taking a little survey.
Please leave a comment if you stop by.

I don't know why I bother

MB went to get her hair done today, but she wants me to write the check when I go and pick her up.

Boz: How much does she usually charge and how much of a tip do you give her?

MB: She charges ten dollars and I give her a four dollar tip because I don't want to write a check with the number thirteen in it.

Gourmet 911

If you are dying for a Cherry Coke but all you have is regular Coke just add a couple of cherry cough drops, your mouth won't know the difference.
This only works if you have cherry cough drops though, so make sure to stock up on cherry cough drops, and while you're at you should probably stock up on Cherry Coke making this whole post quite a conundrum, or that thing that is something like a conundrum only different.

This just in ...

Reese Witherspoon hides her Oscar in her chin ...



And forgets to floss in like forever.

And it's only 10:30 in the morning

What a crappy day this is turning out to be.
I woke up at about six this morning and for no reason at all my lower back started hurting, ok, hurting probably isn't the right word. I woke up at about six this morning and my lower back felt like someone had stuck a knife in it and ripped out a kidney, or a spleen, or a liver, or whatever organ there happens to be in the lower back region.
So, I took a couple of tylenol and tried to go back to sleep.
I tossed and turned, every move like another twist of the knife and then about 7:55 I started to drift off ...
Fuck this long drawn out narrative......
My back is killing me.
I couldn't fall back asleep.
The power company shows up outside my bedroom window at eight o'clock and start playing the Hallelujah Chorus on a plethora of chain saws as they cut down what seems to be every tree in the free world.
So fine, I get up and turn on the television ... and the fucking power is out!!!
Why is the fucking power out???
Because the fucking power company turned it off ... the right bunch of bastards!!!!!!!
So, I'm laying in bed at nine thirty in the morning, half asleep, in terrible pain, listening to the guys from the power company just out side my window argue about where they should go to lunch this afternoon, and the house is getting cold ... because the fucking power is out, and maybe I should just get up and try to do something ... do what, the power is out you fucking moron!!!!!!!!!!!
So I just lay there and for lack of anything better to do I start obsessing about the drs appointment I have this afternoon. The drs appointment where I will be probed and groped, and generally violated physically, verbally, and emotionally all in the name of preventive medicine!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So anyway, the power is back on, but my back still hurts, and the house hasn't warmed up yet, and I'm still obsessing on my drs appointment for this afternoon, and wishing I had a woman doctor so the probing and groping, well you know ...

Is it a sin to want to be popular in a non-person kind of way?

Ok, I've succumbed to the peer group pressure and created a My Space account.
Hey, blogging can only take me so far to where I want to go.

Make a fist

I had to fast last night and go to the hospital for a blood test this morning. No biggie, it's just for my annual check-up next week. However, I did make the mistake of walking past the hospital cafeteria on the way out and I haven't been able to get rid of the smell of hospital food all day ... hospital BREAKFAST food all day.

Just another chocolate pie after midnight dream

I had this weird dream last night
I had asked some girl to go to the prom with me, which in itself was a
surprise to me that I had the guts to do it, and she accepted. I guess
the prom was a pretty big deal, because in the school they had big interactive
displays and dioramas and stuff on what it was it going to be like, and your parents were invited to check out the displays, and they pointed and ooohed and ahhhhed, and everyone was really proud of how the prom was shaping up.
Then I met this other girl who I really wanted to take to the prom instead,
and seriously, the first date was just some
generic girl, a date of convenience, the second girl was the one I really wanted
to take, and isn't this starting to sound like that one episode of Eight Is Enough where Tommy Bradford had two dates for the prom.
Ok, this being a dream and all the time line isn't all that important, you know how dreams sort of ping pong around and everything.
So anyway the dream now flashes forward to the prom and I am sitting at a long table
waiting for whoever my date is going to be to show up.
Edith Bunker, huh, Edith Bunker was sitting three places down from me, and this was not the long suffering Edith Bunker, this was the Edith Bunker from the
episode of All In The Family where she was going through menopause, and Edith was really pissed off. Edith was pissed because everyone else had already been served their
dinner and she hadn't, and she is bitching and cussing and moaning and
yelling at all the waiters. Someone then offered Edith a tangerine as a
means of calming her down, but Edith took the tangerine and threw it
against the wall and yelled ...
"I don't want no damn tangerine, I want my salad".
Then I woke up.

Feel free to lay a little pop psychology dream interpretation on me, I'd be glad to hear it.

The guy who walked into the sea and ended up in Greece

After I had been stationed on Crete for a couple of months I got a new roommate. He was a three striper that had transferred in from Clark AFB in the Philippines.
I really didn't know much about his Philippines past, but I did know that he was a born again Christian who found religion on the roof of a whore house in Manila.
Yeah, he was a born again Christian and I ... wasn't, and we didn't get along so well, or so good, depending on your grammatical preference.
There was no out and out aggression on either of our parts, everything was more on the passive -aggressive side. He'd leave his Bible opened and bookmarked to certain passages, and I'd leave my Playboys out opened to the center fold.
So yeah, we didn't get along so well and after about a month he moved into another room in another dormitory
However, we did work in the same building and our paths did cross on a daily basis, and I guess the part about not having to live in the same room together sort of mellowed both of us out a little, and no we didn't become friends, but we did become friendlier.
Anyway, he started hanging around at the USO Club and he became friends with another three striper and his wife, who were also born again Christians. So it looked like a good deal for the three of them.
A couple of months later my ex roommate transferred to another building and we rarely saw each other anymore.
Then I started hearing rumors about him and the other guys wife, but you were always hearing rumors like that, and so I didn't pay much attention to it. I mean yeah, I knew there was an attraction there, but I didn't think my ex-roomie would ever act on it.
Well, he didn't, but the attraction and the feelings he felt for the other guys wife were real, so he did what he thought was the right thing to do. He downed a bottle of Excedrin and tried to drown himself by walking out into the Mediterranean Sea.
I'm not sure if he was found, or if he had second thoughts, or whatever, but his attempt was unsuccessful and he wound up in the psych ward at some military hospital in Germany.
After his stint in the psych ward they transferred him to Athens which the powers that be figured would be best for all parties concerned, and maybe it was because that was the last I ever heard about him.
But yeah, that still shows you how powerful the act of suicide really is. Even though he was unsuccessful, and even though we were never really friends, and even though we were just barely acquaintances, here it is 35 years later and I still remember it like it was last month.

Do my new glasses make my jaw look square?

My everyday glasses.



My computer glasses.