#11 would have been Morning Dew by Tim Rose

Random play on my Panasonic $25.00 2 Gig Mp3 Player.
1. Helpless - Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young. The summer of 1970, and I hated the summer of 1970. I was in the Air Force and stationed on the island of Crete, and I was having trouble adjusting, because I was stubborn, and I refused to chill, and let the fact that I was in the military make me unable to enjoy one of the coolest places anyone could have hoped to be in the summer of 1970, but I got my act together and the fall and winter of 1970, and the spring and summer of 1971 were like one of those coming of age movies where things happened, some good, some great, some shitty, but, well, but yeah.
2. Green Onions - Booker T and the MGs. Sometime in 1963 or maybe 62. Made me want to learn how to play the bass guitar for about a week until I realized how hard it would be so I went back to making model cars, learning how to masturbate, and waiting for the Beatles to happen.
3. Time Has Come Today - The Chambers Brothers. Spring of 1968. A really long song, but not as long as Alice's Restaurant by Arlo Guthrie, but a little longer than The End by the Doors, and the exact same length to the second, and I'm serious, to the second of East/West by the Paul Butterfield Blues Band.
4. Rough Boys - Pete Townshend. Late 70's or early 80's, and yeah, if this song doesn't prove that Pete is a charter member of NAMBLA, well, nothing will. Go ahead and listen, and try to deny it, I dare you, I double dog dare you, and I quote " I want to hug and kiss you"
5. Timothy Leary's Dead, or maybe it's just Timothy Leary - The Moody Blues. The summer of 1968, and man, oh man, oh man, try listening to this while smoking something that someone told you was pot, no shit Boz, it's pot, and not seeing God or that guy who is like God from one of those fake religions, I mean it's just too heavy for someone who just turned 18 and is not college material to handle.
6. Bowling Shoes - Fountains of Wayne. I got nothing, this is the first time I've heard it, but I do like their song about being in love with their girl friends mother, and that other song about Hackensack, which is in New Jersey and which I probably spelled wrong.
7. Poor Side of Town - Johnny Rivers. Johnny Rivers was cool up to a point. I mean he didn't have a Beatle's haircut, but he did sing Secret Agent Man which was as cool as you could get until the Summer of Love made it irrelevant, and it's really NOT that hard to find nice things on the poor side of town either.
8. Higher and Higher - Jackie Wilson. Another one of those mid 60's songs which is dominating this list, but what can I say, I'm a mid 60's kind of guy, and even Van Morrison knew how cool Jackie Wilson was, and if I had a nickel for every time I typed "cool" in this post I could buy a pack of Marlboros' if I could go back in a time machine and buy them at mid-60's prices.
9. Laugh at Me - Sonny Bono. Sonny Bono was almost considered a musical genius back in the ... yeah, the mid-60's, back when he was still wearing his bear skin vest, and before he got his nose fixed, and before Cher cut off his balls, and did I ever tell you about the time I saw Sonny and Cher in a Howard Johnson's at a turnpike rest stop in either Pennsylvania or New York???
10. Kiss Me Deadly - Lita Ford. I wouldn't mind being a girl for a couple of minutes if I could sing this song like Lita Ford sings it, or maybe Lita Ford made a deal with the devil where she became a man for a few minutes so she could sing ... I went to a party the other night, I didn't get drunk I got in a fight ...

Ten's enough.

Periods, no not that kind, are not for Sunday

I'm sitting here half asleep, half dressed, half assed
Trying to psyche myself into going for a walk
But then again maybe I'll just go back to bed
Because it is after all Periods Are Not For Sunday ... Sunday
And no, dot dot dots are not periods
At least not at this time of the month
Ugh

The leaves are happening

I took MB out to see the leaves today.
She didn't embarrass me too much.

If Thursday night is "Download Christian Rock Night" and today is Friday, then I guess I'm going to hell, or stuck in Oscoda's homecoming parade.

Nice title for a non-existent post.

For my edification.

The phone woke me up an hour and fifteen minutes ago.
It wasn't a phone call.
It was the sound the phone makes when the receiver isn't put back into the handset properly.
You know the
Beep ..... beep ..... beep ..... beep beep beep beep beep beep (stop) (repeat ad infinitum)
So, I fixed the phone, I think, and ate breakfast ... don't ask.
And here I am.
And it's raining.
And it's still dark out.
Or maybe it's stopped raining because I can't hear it anymore.
And a truck, or a car with a bad muffler just drove by, probably someone on their way to work.
AND I JUST hit the caps lock by mistake, while I was pulling an sdhc memory card out of the memory card reader.
And I'm not convinced that I've seen the last of the heartburn I had last night (see previous post).
And the gym at the community center will be closed for the next four days because it's been rented out to the hospital for some kind of hospital gala, whatever that is.
And there was something whimsical that happened to me yesterday that I wanted to write about, but the heartburn hit before I got around to it, and now I can't remember what it was that I wanted to write about, or aboot, for my Canadian friends.
And I can hear the rain again.
And it's a quarter after seven.
And I'm going back to bed.
And I'll probably turn on the TV and try to find a movie that will fit the way I feel, but with female nudity, but not the boom chicka wow wow kind, more the girl with glasses with a tattoo at the base of her neck that is normally covered up by her hair, except when she's doing female nudity for my edification, and believe it or not I got the correct spelling of edification on the first try, but now I'm kind of unsure if edification is the right word, but yeah, I'm going back to bed, and do the TV thing, and I'll probably be awake by ten, and then I'll take the trash cans to the curb because it's trash day, and I hope the rain, that I can still hear, will have stopped by then.

Death be not proud

I had heartburn really bad tonight.
I honestly thought that I might have to call 911.
It was like someone stuck a knife into my chest just below by sternum.
I almost cried because it hurt so bad.
I thought it might be a heart attack even though I knew better.
I am not lying.
I have no idea what brought it on.
It just hit me BLAM!!!
Tums didn't help, but ...
I found some heartburn pills and popped a couple of them, then I laid down with a cold cloth on my forehead, and slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, the pain started to subside.
So, I guess I am better, but just writing about it is giving me a little twinge.

And ...
Speaking about dying.
I almost fell to my death taking this picture on Tuesday afternoon, of course if I had fallen to my death on Tuesday afternoon I wouldn't have had killer heartburn on Tuesday night, so I guess you have to take the good with the bad, and the bad with the good, and the black jelly beans with the red jelly beans, and I actually like black jelly beans, but not mixed in with any other colors, or course black isn't a color, and it isn't a flavor either, but who are you to judge, ha, I didn't think so.

Ice cream is on sale this week.

I think I have finally figured out how to work my printer/copier/scanner.
It only took me a week and a half of headaches, and twelve copies of one picture that I didn't even want in the first place.
So, cough-cough-cough, if you have any tasteful photos lying around, and ...
Nah, well, yeah, but nah, but you could surprise me.

You'd better wear some boxing gloves in case some fool might wanna fight.

You know what smells good?
Aspirin smells good.
Go ahead go find a bottle.
You got it?
Open it up and take a whiff.
They smell like health, don't they.

It's not quite eight in the morning.
The gym opens at eight.
I think I'm going to go walk early today.
I put new laces in my shoes.
They look snazzy.
I hope someone notices.

The snazzy new laces and my faux skater boy power walking shoes that I got at Kmart for ten dollars that will soon be retired because my FRENCH shoes will be here by the end of the week.



The rug is sort of new too.
I bought it to match the laces.

Maybe I should clarify something.
I got the faux skater boy shoes from Kmart, not the snazzy laces.
I got the laces three pairs for a dollar at the dollar store in AuGres.

Maybe I should take the camera with me when I go this morning.
You see a lot of interesting things this time of the morning, or this time in the morning, I guess.

The shoes are in the mail.

I look different without my glasses.



I'm listening to my 2 gig mp3 player.
The Panasonic one that I got at the Evil Empire for 25 bucks, marked down from a hundred bucks.
I reformatted it tonight.
All new songs.
Natural Beauty by Neil Young is on now.
It's long and it's live, and there are crickets chirping in the background.
Ladies and Gentleman ...
Almost Grown by Chuck "My Ding-a-Ling" Berry.

My name is boz48730, and I'm a addict.

I walked thirteen miles in less than 24 hours at the gym.
I walked six miles last night, and I walked seven miles this afternoon.

I didn't do any spinning, which you would think involved spinning around in circles until you puke, pass out, or start listening to Christian Rock, but it's not, it's riding a stationary bike while someone motivates you ... by promising that you won't ever have to listen to Christian Rock, or Chris Rock, ever again.

I like Dexter and his girl friend Rita.



But, I like the actress that plays Rita even more.



Julie Benz, the actress who plays Rita, outside in her underwear.

Don't watch scary movies late at night or you'll end up blogging at all hours of the morning.

I realized today that I am a power walker, but not the kind that swings his arms like a retard. No, I'm the kind that averages 4.5 miles or more an hour. So I decided that I'd better buy some really good walking shoes so I don't lose any more toe nails or skin, so I looked around on the www for walking shoes, but walking shoes are like what you wear when you're 114 years old and the only walking you do is from the bed to your Amigo Power Scooter, so I changed my search to running shoes, and when you're doing 4.5 miles or more an hour you might as well say are you are almost running, or at least almost jogging, and what is jogging if not slow running ... ha!

And you know my criteria for buying anything.
It has to be on sale.
It has to be cool/different looking.
It has to be gray and orange.

So these are the shoes I bought.



They are the Lafuma Active Raid GTX XCR Sneaker(s)
And they were reduced from $119.95 to $34.89 at Amazon.
And they are from FRANCE, just like the Coneheads.
And they are gray and orange.
And they are cool/different looking, and if you don't believe me, believe what Lafuma says ...
Sounds like a great shoe for rugged trail running, fast packing, day hiking, or just looking cool standing in a puddle.

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.

3:18

It is way too late for me to be awake ... strike that.
It is way too late for anyone to be awake ... fuck that.
It is a far far way far better thing that I have ever done before.
Bullshit.
Sorry, I got distracted.
I think you owe me an apology, or ten dollars.
I hear noises.
I am going to investigate.
In bed.
Under the covers.
With four pillows over my head.
With my hands over my ears.
Singing lalalalalalala, if I can't hear you, you can't be there, lalalalalalalalala.
Balls.

Don't rock the boz, let the boz rock you.

I found this widget via Death to Simpleton, and I've always wanted to use the word via in a post, so I guess I have.

Remix

My eyes feel like they are about to fall out of their sockets.

What I just said.

Canned Chili, a typical email from me, except in the email I spelled chili with two l's.

You should try Campbell's canned chili. It is really good, and you don't even need a can opener. I got the "firehouse" chili, and it was really "HOT" but with chili "HOT" is good. I had a little bit of leftover tomato soup and I added that to the chili, which is a good tip if you want the chilli to streeeeeeeeeeeeeeetch for two people.
I bought another new digital camera today, what am I crazy or something, and this is a good one, not one of those you see in the drugstore for $19.99.
I went to the St Vincent DePaul thrift store today, and bought two shirts, what has gotten into me, I can't stop spending money ... I also bought one of those plastic tubes you put over your shower rod to make it more decorative, it was burgundy, and only cost a dime, oh yeah, I bought a new shower curtain from the evil empire yesterday on clearance for four bucks, it is also burgundy with a bamboo theme.
Bambooooooooooooooooooooo
Bambooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
bambo
This should be a blog post and not an email.
Since I didn't use your name, per our legal agreement, I can blog post this and no one will be the wiser ... hmpppph!
And why don't you want me to use your name anyway?
It's because of your relationship with Phil Spector, isn't it.

Where are the pizza goddesses of my dreams, and do they have my cell phone number?

Things I have to do today even if it is only 5:42 am.
1. Go to the gym.
2. Pick up a prescription and use the two dollar off birthday coupon on something I totally don't need before it expires, or maybe before I expire.
3. Get a pizza because it's SQUARE TUESDAY, or maybe not, because really, I am so over pizza unless it is served by nubile and naked pizza goddesses.
4. Take a shower, which I do quite regularly, unless I am too tired, or too clean already.
5. Change the shoelaces in my sneakers to shorter laces because the current longer laces tend to make me trip, stumble, and fall when I step on them while walking, and/or chewing gum.
6. Buy something, anything, I'm seriously spend jonesing, but I don't need anything, not even underwear ... I NEED TO SPEND TO VALIDATE MY EXISTENCE!!!
7. Ok, this isn't something I have to do, but I would like to point out that my brother in law, my niece, and my nephew all went out on strike yesterday because they work for GM which is the grand daddy of all evil empires, but the pay and the benefits are good, and they have a great employee discount which even extends to brothers in laws, which I am one of, and I often take advantage of when I purchase new vehicles, and how convoluted is this sentence getting, but it's ok, because I get to share on the employee discount for that too.
8. Take a nap, right now, or at least after I finish 8, 9, and 10, which hopefully will be soon Betty, real soon.
9. Find out who Betty is.
10. Hydrate until I leak, or take a leak, or take many leaks, or many many leaks, and where are the pizza goddesses of my dreams when I really need them.

Hush, hush, keep it down now, voices carry.

I took the generic Nyquil at about six thirty, and I went to bed, but I didn't go to sleep, so after about five minutes, I got up, and got dressed, and decided to go to the gym anyway. I guess the generic Nyquil had the opposite effect on me tonight, instead of making me drowsy it wound me up, so yeah, I went to the gym, and on the way to the gym, which is only a mile from where I live, a police car pulled in behind me, and you know, I was like impaired, because of the GN, which is like 20% alcohol, and 80% unknown mind altering substance, and I was impaired, and the police were following me, and the speed limit was 25 mph, but to be on the safe side I set the cruise control to 14.5, which is almost exactly half of 25 if your mind is impaired and not thinking correctly, but the police car ignored me, and I pulled into the parking lot of the gym, and there was only one car in the parking lot, and that had to be from the guy on duty in the gym, and it was, but there was also a couple of bikes in the bike rack, and they were from a couple of kids playing basketball on the first floor, and I made a mental note to hawk a couple of loogies on them when I was walking on the track on the second floor, but I forgot about it almost as soon as I thought of it, and I did two sets of 100 ab crunches, and I walked about three miles on the track in between the two sets of ab crunches, and I listened to my mp3 player while I walked, and I can't remember any of the songs that played, and seriously, I really can't remember any of them, but I sang along with most of them, but that was probably the GN singing because I never sing along with the music while I am walking, and that's a lie, because I always sing along, and sometimes even sway along with the music while I am walking, and when I finished walking, I got back in my car in the parking lot, and the guy on duty was sweeping leaves out of the gutters, and I thought that was odd, and I hoped he didn't ask me to help him, and he didn't, but he did say to "have a good'un" and I assured him that I would, then I drove home with the windows down, and no cops followed me, and I saw some wild turkeys getting ready to roost, and then I got home, and drank some water, then took a shower, but I didn't shave, I'll do that in the morning, or the afternoon, or might just wait till Tuesday, and isn't till Tuesday the name of a band from the 80's?
But yeah, I'm done for the night, and I am still slightly impaired from the NG, and NG is my abbreviation for generic Nyquil, but you probably realized that, or didn't care, and fuck you if you didn't care, and I think I going to have a glass of diet coke, and pose semi-naked in front of the mirror in my bedroom.

Waking up to a blogroll in the morning.

I think I am going to add some more blog links after my generic Nyquil induced coma is finished with, sometime around three in the morning.
Please wait with bated breath to see who the lucky ones will be, and mourn the death of the ones that I add.

Compare to Nyquil

Ok, I'm pretty sure that it's my sinus again, and seriously, I should have caught on to it by now, I mean, it happens this time every year, with the pollen, and whatever, and stuff.
So, I'm going to pass on the gym today, and I'm really going to miss the sit-up machine, and just take some generic Nyquil and go to bed, and probably sleep till I feel like I have died.
Lif is weird sometimes, isn't it, and so is life.

Magnets suck.

It's lock jaw. I'm sure that it's lock jaw.
When does the madness start?

Is this end of Rico?

Ok, now I'm getting worried.
It feels like someone just took a knife, a knife just a bit smaller than a cleaver, and a knife that is really sharp, and dissected my brain 60% slash 40%, and I'm slowly losing my motor skills, and thank god for spell check, and now ...
and what the fuck does 60% slash 40% mean???
And I'm seeing a kaleidoscope of colors, no I'm not, it's my life, it's racing right smack dab in front of my eyes, and I just had a vision of Fred Sanford, and he was telling to settle down, and take deep breaths, and not to worry, and not to trust Rollo.
Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

Of spelled backwards is fo, and is it spelled or spelt?

My stomach is making all sorts of gurgling noises and this can't be a good thing,
I mean, it's a beautiful day, and I'd like to go out, but the gurgles are telling me not to chance it.
I mean, I already did go out once today, and I had to make an emergency turn around even before I got out to the garage.
Fuck it, I'm going to take a nap.

Just another Flixn ...

Where I discuss the meaning of life, and feet, and my college years, and donkey basketball, and the color green, and urban slang, and my affair with Pearl S. Buck, and redrum, and women's soccer, and Pilate's, and vanilla pudding.



The end

I hate Friday when it seems like Monday.

I'm pissed, well, about as pissed as I get, which honestly isn't very pissed at all, so maybe upset would be a better way to describe what I am feeling right now.
I got a haircut today, and a beard trim, I always get my beard trimmed when I get my haircut, so anyway, I got a haircut and a beard trim, and like usual ...
NO, not as usual, nothing was as usual today when I got my haircut and beard trimmed today. The barber, the rat bastard, fucked up my beard royally. I mean seriously, I look like Billy Bob Thorton a week after Angelina threw his ass to the curb. It sucks, it really sucks, and I even tipped the bastard too!!!
I mean, he usually does a really good job, so I didn't even check the mirror before I walked out, but when I was combing my hair in the car, because you always have to comb your hair in the car after a haircut or you'll look like 1950's Man, and nobody ever wanted to look like 1950's Man, not even in the 1950's, so, I was combing my hair, actually, I was brushing my hair, but I don't want to go into that right now, so I was brushing my hair, and GODDAMN my beard looked terrible, it was uneven, and scraggly, and too long in some places, and too short in other places, and non-existant in still other places.
So I guess what I'll have to do is try to even it up myself, and like that really has a chance of working out, or I can shave it off and start all over again, which yeah, I think I'll do because it will only take a week or so for my beard to become bozilicious once again.

I'm not a middle aged Asian lady, but sometimes ...

I love stuff.



And my heel hurts from too much walking on the indoor track at the Community Center today, and the 110 ab crunches probably didn't help, and the thirty cardio reps, well, that could have been ten too many, but other than that I feel great, except my breath smells like tuna fish, but that's probably because I just ate some tuna fish, but other than that I feel great, but still a little hungry, and yeah, I'm probably going to get a haircut tomorrow, after my workout at the Community Center, and I might even wear my new customized Boz t-shirt, which I got for free except for the four and a half dollar shipping and handling, which is a small price to pay for t-shirt immortality, baby!!!

Twats and Bazooms

Twats is rapidly catching up to bazooms as my top keyword search, and this intrigued me, so I did a Google image search for "twats and bazooms" and here are some of the more interesting results.
Hit it Riddle!!!






Eh, they can't all be Pulitzer worthy.

If you can parallel park the world is your oyster.

The year I learned to drive ...
There was a riot in Detroit



And I dreamt about girls that looked like this when they were asleep when I was asleep.

And the city tore up the street that I lived on.

And I stole a STOP sign.

And I almost flunked out of high school.

And I smoked cigarettes.

And I cursed the man.

Fuck you man!!!

If you've lost count this is where we left off.

I'm really tired, and I should really go to bed, and I really should find another word to use in the place of really, because I mean REALLY!
Anyway, the generic Nyquil has really (doh) done a number on me.
I was trying to watch a movie, an Argentinian movie, on HBO, but it was a comedy, sort of, and sort of comedies are kind of hard to keep up with when you're generic Nyquilified, and there are subtitles, but don't get me wrong, I prefer subtitles to dubbing, just not when my powers of concentration are impaired do to the hour and the generic Nyquil, and I was just distracted by Nancy Sinatra Jr singing These Boots Were Made For Walking, and I don't know why I brought that up, it's just that I've been staring blankly at the monitor for about ten minutes and I figured I should type something, and the Nancy Sinatra Jr thing just popped into my mind, because truthfully I just made that part up about being distracted by the Nancy Sinatra Jr song These Boots Are Made For Walking, I actually heard that song this afternoon while in the car on a CD that I burnt for myself of nothing but Nancy Sinatra Jr songs of which These Boots Were Made For Walking was one of, and I could tell you all kinds of stories about the English band that used to play at the enlisted men's club when I was stationed on Crete, the English band with the leggy female back-up singer who actually never sang, but I'll tell you what she did do, what she did do was whenever the English band played These Boots Were Made For Walking, the leggy back-up singer who never actually sang, and the rumor going around is that she was a prostitute, but so what, and anyway whenever the English band played TBAMFW the leggy back-up singer would take center stage, and while wearing a shimmery silver mini dress and knee high boots, she would start doing a series of high leg kicks during the instrumental break in the middle of the song, which would drive most of the young, drunk, and horny enlisted men crazy, and then there was that one time when Duck Farwig, who was very drunk, but when was he not very drunk, but yeah, the very drunk Duck Farwig moved his chair right up to the edge of the stage where he claimed that he got a perfect view of the leggy back-up singers bush, and yeah back then women had bushes because Lady Bics and Brazilian wax jobs hadn't been invented yet, but Duck Farwig might have been full of shit, and beer, and hormones, and damn, prostitute or not, the leggy back-up singer was smoking hot, with her mini-dress, and her boots, and blonde hair, and did I mention her blonde hair earlier, doesn't matter, and I guess that's it, so I think I'm going to take another shot of generic Nyquil and pretend I'm a drunk and horny 19 year old enlisted man, and I wonder whatever happened to Duck Farwig and the leggy back-up singer who never actually sang.

I dreamt that I adopted Simpleton, and it was the death of us all.

Um, ok, remember when I told you I was sick as a dog, or like a dog, or because of a dog, the other day, the other day being either yesterday or today?
Well, I wasn't really sick, sick in the way I thought I was sick, it was just my sinus acting up again, and I don't know why it always takes me a few days to realize that the sick that I feel is caused by my sinus, which I sometimes proudly refer to as the worst sinus my doctor has ever seen, if one can actually see a sinus (sinii?)
So, when it finally hit me, like a shiv in the spinal cord, that it was my sinus, and not the plague ... 2007 style, (damn I can't find the "l" on my keyboard, I keep typing "k" by mistake, and maybe the "l" key is next to the "any" key of tech support lore, but I'm tangentisizing, aren't I?)
So, when it finally hit me that it was my sinus, and after the requisite forehead slap (DOH!!!) of recognition, I took a shot of generic Nyquil and slept the sleep of the dead for about two hours, and then I woke the wake of the alive, took a shower, had a half a chicken sandwich and a diet soda, and here I am, grogged but not broken, shaken but not stirred, l-less but not hekpkess, lost in a sea of Nyquility ... generic style.
The end but not the finish, so I guess I am done without making a point, again.

Ok, is Ziggy the dad or is Bob the dad?

So, I was listening to my new favorite sweetest song I have ever heard in my life, Daddy's Gone by Toots and the Maytals, and did I mention that it was about a quarter after five this evening when I was listening to mnfssihehiml, and sudddenly (suddenly, like a flash in the night ...) I started to fall asleep, and you know those dreams you have when you're not quite asleep but still not quite awake, the kind that seem really real to the real cubed, well, I was having one of those while Toots and the Guys were singing, and I had planned on telling you all about it, but after uploading Daddy's Gone, and then going to the bathroom, and getting a can of diet Cherry Pepsi, and not being able to find the straws, the straws that are always on the bar in the kitchen, I mean, because who can drinkout of a can without a straw, well, I can't anyways-s-s-s-s, and then I found the straws, and they were on the bar in the kitchen where they always are, and I don't know, my mind was probably a million miles away, and that's probably why I couldn't find the straws at first, but did eventually, and because of all that I forgot what my not quite asleep but yet not quite awake dream was, and if you really want to hear Daddy's Gone by Toots and the Maytals, you can try here ...
Or here ...
Or here ...
Or even here ...
And if any of you have ever had one of those not quite asleep but not quite awake dreams that you can REMEMBER, let me know.

Toots & the Maytals

Hey, let's all go down to the video blog store and make a video blog post

So ...

Me at Iargo, pronounced eye-r-go, Springs, like I told you I was going to do, and I'm a keeper of my word if it doesn't involve too much on my part.
It was warm, and yes, I look very spring-like.
And I guess that's it, except for the fact that I am sick as a dog tonight, and have been all day, well, most of the day, and I'm still blaming the dark chocolate that I ate last night, and I guess that's really it now, but, oh, does anyone watch Weeds on Showtime, and if you do, and if you were, or are, a lesbian, or if you were a guy who could be a lesbian for a day, would you have a lesbian crush on Mary-Louise Parker, and seriously, chicks with hyphenated names really turn me on, except for the ugly ones, or the real serious ones who just want to talk about world hunger.

Don't even think about it.

Ok, it's five in the morning, and my eyes hurt, and I'm feeling a little dizzy, and I've been up all night watching an Argentinian mini=series on HBO on Demand, and I've run to the bathroom a few times, and I had a diet Pepsi about two hours ago, but that's not a problem because it was decaf, and I've got things to do tomorrow, I mean today, and see how the lack of sleep has made me forget what day it is, and yeah, I have things to do today, like SLEEP, and go to the gym, and spend extra time because of the dark chocolate easter bunny that I ate, that might have given me diarrhea with two r's, and it's supposed to be a beautiful day, so I might go walk down the stairs at Iargo Springs, and I might walk back up the stairs at Iargo Springs, or then again, I might just pitch a tent and live at the bottom of the stairs at Iargo Springs for the rest of my life, but only if I could get Burger King to deliver, and no I don't eat at Burger King as much as you think I do, unless you think I eat there every day, and I'm running out of words, and commas, and my hands are starting to feel funny, and I hope I don't have to go back to the bathroom again, but my stomach just made that gurgling sound, so who knows ...
And they'll be pictures and a quiz sometime today unless I die in my sleep, but I'd have to sleep first for that to happen, so you figure it out, because I'm going to bed, and dream about the hard nipples of the Argentinian babe in the mini-series that I've been watching on HBO on Demand, but I think I might puke first, but yeah, she had some fine nips.

My commas can lick your commas with their interabang tied behind their backs.

Ok, I was going to make this a one of those things where I make a lot of similar posts, you know, sort of like a short story but different, but I got bored with it really quick, bored and a bad case of diarrhea, and is that two r's or two h's in diarrhea(?), and I guess spellcheck will answer that soon enough ...
And yeah, it was two r's, so I'm good to go, and I think that dark chocolate may have had something to do with the diaRRhea, but that's only speculation on my part, and oh yeah, before I forget ...
Fuck OJ, and Al, and the late Johnny Cochoran(sic), and F Lee Bailey, and the white Bronco, and the glove that didn't fit, but actually did, except that someone scrunched his hand up real good so that it wouldn't fit, and Greta Van Sustern(sic, sic, sic, sic), who just might be the ugliest lawyer turned commentator in the history of the world, and what the fuck was she thinking with the plastic surgery, because I mean, you can't make a silk purse out of a cow's ass, and my god, she is one ugly woman, and the fact that she talks out of the side of her mouth doesn't help, and I wouldn't fuck her with a ten foot pole, or my dick, or your dick, or if you don't have a dick, your strap-on, and on, and on, and on, and on.

Dark Chocolate meet the Stones, and be polite.

Bear with me a minute as I finish off this 8 ounce dark chocolate Russell Stover easter bunny.

I mean, sometimes you just have to tell your diet to go fuck itself, and tonight is one of those nights.

I think I just ate a piece of tin foil. It wasn't bad, just slightly metallic.

Seriously, I am devouring the bunny.

So, what was I going to write about tonight?

Besides dark chocolate.

And Russell, the brother that Bill Cosby slept with.

And Stover.

And tin foil.

And the Rolling Stones.

Yes, that's it, the Rolling Stones ... and how I had a chance to see them in concert in Detroit in 1964 at the Olympia Stadium, yeah, that Olympia Stadium, the place where the Red Wings and the Pistons played, and where Dick the Bruiser used to beat the shit out of Bobo Brazil, and where Joe Louis fought Two Ton Tony Galento or maybe it was one of the other bums from the Bum of the Month Club.

Ok, I didn't actually have a chance to see the Stones in 64, but then again I did have a chance to see them, but I was only 13, or maybe 14, and I had no way of getting there, and even if I did have a way of getting there, I didn't have the three or four dollars for a ticket, but really, if I did have a way to get there, and if I had the three or four dollars I could have totally seen them, and I probably could have seen them from the front row, or at least the second row, because they only sold about 250 tickets, which left about 14,750 empty seats, and about now, you're saying ...

What the Fuck!!!

And I'm replying, well yeah, it was 1964, and the Stones were just another band riding in on the coat tails of the Beatles and the British Invasion, playing recycled r&b hits from the 50's, and not really doing that very good, and I bet Freddie and the Dreamers, or the Dave Clark Five, or Herman's Hermits would have sold at least 10,000 tickets each at the Olympia, and the Stones, well, the Stones and their shitty r&b cover songs, well, it just wasn't their time, because their time was the summer of 1965 after Satisfaction, after Get Off of My Cloud, and after some other top five hit that I can't remember the name of, well, that was their time, the summer of 65 was their time, when they came back to Detroit, and sold out Cobo Hall for a bazillion consecutive nights, or maybe it was Tiger Stadium for a month of Sundays, or quite possibly it could have been Hell for Eternity, but you see, it was 1965, and that was their time.

The phone call - part 1.

"Hello Al? This is OJ pick up, pick up, pick up. C'mon Al, I know you're there, pick up, goddamnit!"

My stomach growls at the mere thought of you.

A couple of pictures I took as the sun was going down this evening, and I took them totally by accident. I mean, it was like 7:30 at night, and I was done doing all the stuff that I had to do which would take me outside, and I was just goofing around on the computer, and like I said, it was 7:30, and I figured I should close the blinds in the living room, and when I got in the living room and looked out, I was like
JESUS FUCK!!!
HOW AWESOME IS THIS???
So I got my camera, and I put my shoes on, and I think I had to put my pants on too, but I'm not sure, and then I ran over to the lake across street, and took a shit load of pics, and here are two of them, and just tell me how awesome they are, but it's not because I am a great photographer, or have a great eye, or even a great camera, but I am fairly good photographer, with a fairly good eye, and a fairly good camera, and no, I didn't retouch the photos at all, what you see is what you get, but you know what is weird, or strange, or pathetic???
The sunset lasted maybe ten minutes, and I probably missed the first five minutes of it, and the last five minutes I spent taking photographs, and I really didn't get the chance to actually ENJOY the fucking sunset!





And yeah, I guess you can click on them and go over to buzznet and see the full size print, but only of you want to, no pressure or anything.

Actually it's 40.5 pounds

I've lost forty pounds, and you haven't!!!
Not that I'm bragging or anything, but even if I was bragging or anything, I think I have a right too, and still ...
I've lost forty pounds, and if you'd like you can vicariously pretend that you've lost forty pounds through me, if that's possible, or makes sense.
Hey, why don't we take our skinny asses over to the handball courts and play a few, unless you'd rather play miniature golf, or lawn darts, and yeah, I know lawn darts are "technically" illegal, but you know us white folks and our lawn darts, you can always find a game if you know where to look, and you aren't adverse to greasing a few palms, and of course the first rule of lawn darts is you never talk about lawn darts, and it might be a good idea if you didn't talk about femhyg products either, but that's just a common sense sort of thing, isn't it.

Five years minus a week, or ten days.

I'm really starting to get into this blogging thing again. I've just been going through the motions for a year, or two, or three, or ...
But yeah, I mean, but anyway ...

So, I was at the gym today. yep, I just signed up at the community center to use the gym for a year, and at only ten bucks for the year it's a real good deal, and they've got a real good track, and maybe I'll post a picture of the track, yeah, that's what I'll do ...
Damn, I love ...
So, yeah, I was at the gym today, and there was only one other person using the track, and while she was walking she was taking phone calls on her cell, and between calls she was reading a magazine, and when she wasn't taking calls, or reading her magazine she was working a crossword puzzle, seriously, I can't make stuff like that up, so she was doing all that, and walking too, and did I mention she was very nice looking MILF, and when I say MILF, I don't actually mean that I'd LF her, but yeah, she was very nice, and she knew how to work that ass in between phone calls.


The track at the gym.

Picture tune, I mean time.

This could be my new favorite picture of myself, but I'm not sure if it's the black and white or the color that might be my new favorite picture of myself.

My nephew is so fucking weird.

And I don't mean the Grand Dufus.
I mean the Grand Dufus's's's's's's uncle.
Anyway, the weirdness he did today was sending MB a birthday card that she received today, but hasn't opened yet because she is taking a nap, and yes, if you remembered correctly MB's birthday was two weeks ago, but the weird part isn't that the card was two weeks late, no the weird part is that he addressed the card ...
TO ME!!!
And this is not a new weirdness, because for the last I don't know how many years he has addressed all of MB's cards to me, and I don't know what it is.
Is he too cool to address the card to Grandmother Boz, or GB~
I mean, he could just use MB's real name, I'm sure he knows what it is, it's the same as his mother's first name, and since he addressed the card to me, and I have the same last name as MB, he obviously knows her last name too.

In other news I found the naked picture of that chick that's in the musical about high school, and I wasn't even looking for it, it just appeared as if out of nowhere, and she isn't bad, but she is very young, and she should clean her bedroom up a little too.
And if you want the pic just drop me a line, and whatever ...

Shalom and Milla walk into a bar and ...

Wow, I just ran down my blog links over there on the right hand side of the page and ...
and ...
and ...
Nobody is blogging anymore, or at least not regularly, or at least not at the same place.
I mean, it was just a few years ago that everybody was blogging, and making seventeen posts a day, and stopping by, and leaving comments, and being funny, and rude, and poetic, and photogenic, and remember how I used to post a lot of pictures, and then I stopped that and started these really long posts, wait, before the really long post period I was doing something else but I don't remember what it was, and whatever happened to Shalom Harlow and Milla Jovovich, and all those other skinny chicks with hard nipples and hairy twats, and yes, I can say twats, because I think that's the new medical term for ... twats.
Anyway, I guess I can't quit, or move, or change, or dye my hair orange.
I mean, I guess I have to keep the faith baby, keep the fucking faith, yeah, me, the faith keeper.
So, be advised all you humanoids out there, I will be here forever, even if you aren't.
BABY!!!

Shalom and Milla for old time's sake





And aren't they just two of the greatest names you've ever heard?

Seriously, Coke makes a great douche.

I set a record today.
I had four refills on my diet Coke at the Bk.
It was the sixteen ounce cup, and they weren't completely empty when I refilled them, but still ... I'm pretty stoked about it.

A curious onlooker asks:
Boz, why do you get the sixteen ounce drink and not one of the mega sized drinks?
Boz: Because if you are 55 or over you get the sixteen ounce drink for fifty cents plus tax, and the tax is six cents on the dollar, so that would make it three cents on the half dollar, and fifty cents is a half dollar(more or less), so that would make the final cost ... fifty three cents, which with four refills is quite a deal, hold on a second, I have to take a whiz, and from now on I am always going to refer to IT as taking a whiz, and yeah, I lied about needing to take a whiz, I was just trying to be funny, but now that I think about it ...

Spellcheck loves me

So, there were these really two stupid people trying to get gas at the self serve pump today, and they couldn't figure it out, so the guy in the little booth came on over the speaker and told them what to do, and they still couldn't figure it out.
And that's my story for today.
Seriously, I am running on fumes right now.
I got about an hours sleep last night and I have been up all day saving the world from stupid people at self serve gas stations.
It took me ten minutes to sign into blogger, and you know, I'm not stupid, not stupid like those guys at the gas station today, I'm just dead tired, and I'd tell you that my eyes are bleeding but bleeding eyes are trademarkededed, but I guess I could say my eyes are oozing plasma, a blood by product, or something like a by product.
Stupid eyes.

As my fingers slowly ...

It's muggy, and windy, and the bird that mocks me is mocking me.
I just finished watching a movie that didn't make any sense, and there's that word again.
Sense, sense, sense.
The sun is starting to shine, but I think it's gonna rain.
I wonder if I sneezed ten times in a row real fast if I would reach nirvana, or something.

One time at the surgeon general's office me and wesley from across the street ...

It's 3:41 in the morning. My eyes won't focus, but I can't sleep.
Wait, that doesn't make sense.
I can't sleep.
Ok, yeah, I can't sleep, and it is 3:41 in the morning, and I'm having trouble reading what I am typing, but that doesn't make much sense either, but it's the truth.
I should write a poem.
I should write a poem about not being able to sleep.
Or maybe I should write a short story.
A short story about not being able to fall asleep.
I'll do the poem, it won't take as long.

A Poem About Not Being Able To Sleep
I can't sleep tonight
And it doesn't make sense
Because because because-e-e-e-e-e
It's way past my bed time ... no, that sucked.
Ok ...
And it doesn't make sense
In the present tense
And and and ...
Fuck it
I could use a smoke
Maybe a Marlboro, or a Lark
Or a Lucky Strike unfiltered
But at five dollars plus a pack
I'll just not sleep
Because it's cheaper
By the dozen
Or the gross
And now I'm tired
So, I won't be surfing porn like I planned
I'm just going to go to bed
And think about the woman at the bank who said she liked my shirt
And was that just a come on
Did she really just like the shirt
Or was there more to it
Questions questions questions
Answers answers answers
Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls ... The Beatles!!!

No misspellings found, maybe one.

I'm going to bed now because since I have gotten skinny I need more rest, and I wish you'd give it a rest, because you know how I like to keep a low profile and deflect attention away from myself, and if I were a Bruce Springsteen song I'd be the one where he got real skinny and everyone was jealous of him, but that's just me, and if I were a song by ABBA I'd be Fernando, or maybe that one about the girl who liked to dance and became a queen after she lost a lot of weight.

Bob Dylan's on the radio

So I've lost 40 lbs, and I'm skinny.
Deal with it.
Pilgrim!

The horn of plenty

If you're ever constipated have me eat some green grapes and that should take care of it.

Pictures

Schauenfreude, canine style.

A dog tried to bark at me today while I was out walking, but he threw-up instead.

Take ten and call me in the morning

I had a dream last night that I had a giant erection.
It was huge.
I got a ruler out to measure it.
It was over twelve inches long.
I tried to take a picture of it, but it was too difficult to hold the camera and the ruler and keep it up at the same time.
Then I woke up, and it was nowhere near twelve inches.
It was very frustrating to be so close and yet so far.

I'll without the ' is just ill.

So, I'll be spending most of today thinking that it's Monday, and by the time I figure out that it's Tuesday it will be Wednesday, or April in Paris.

The sound of one had clapping meets the Bride of Frankenstein, or is that Frankenstien, no I guess not.

Chirp, chirp, chirp.

If this had been an actual emergency

I got a haircut today.
It was pretty uneventful.
After the haircut I went to Kmart.
They had a 50% off the clearance price on all clothing, but they didn't call it clothing, they called it apparel, and I got a shirt for $3.50 and a pair of shorts
for $4.50.



While standing in the check-out line I noticed they had candy bars on sale for thirty cents.
I bought a Chocolate Mocha Kit Kat bar to go with my lunch.



It went very good with lunch.
There are all kinds of severe storm warning to the south of us.
There are no severe storm warnings here.
We could use the rain, seriously.
I walked for an hour this morning while listening to my Zune (mp3 player).
The first song I heard was Paperback Writer by the Beatles.
When Paperback Writer first came out in 1966 I thought it was called PaperBAG Writer.
I turned 16 in 1966.
On my 16th birthday my old man and I went to see the Detroit Tigers play the Minnesota Twins.
It was free bat day for anyone under 16.
I lied, and got a free bat.
It was a Dick MacAuliffe autograph bat.
Dick MacAuliffe played shortstop for the Tigers.
Then when the Tigers got Ray Oyler Dick MacAuliffe played second base for the Tigers.
Ray Oyler is dead.
He was an alcoholic.
So kids, let that be a lesson to you.
If you drink, don't play shortstop for the Tigers, and if you're not sure how to spell MacAuliffe just fake it, because who's gonna know?
Amen.

Phlegm at eleven.

I bought four new pair of socks on Tuesday.



You'll notice that they aren't black.
You'll notice that they aren't white.
These non black and these non white socks are a big step for me.
I will wear them with my new skinny pants that aren't really new.
They aren't really new, but they have never been worn.
I will wear them now because they fit.
They fit because I have lost thirty three lbs in three months just like the people on the radio who did it with diet pills.

It's stuffy tonight.
I have the fan on in front of the open window, and the blinds are raised, but they are raised crookedly, and no matter how hard I try I can't get them straight, but since it is almost two in the morning I don't think that it matters, because the only people who would actually notice that the blinds are crooked would be home invaders lurking outside my bedroom window, and I think they would be more concerned with home invading and probably not even notice the crooked blinds, unless the sight of the crooked blinds pushed them/him/her over the edge and the crooked blinds were the root cause of a home invasion killing spree, film at eleven.

The end

How many diet pepsi refills is too many diet pepsi refills?

MB's birthday is on Sunday.
She will be 86 years old.
She got her hair done today.
She also had her upper lip and her chin waxed.
It cost fifty dollars.
I gave the hair dresser a five dollar tip.
The hair dresser's grandson in in the army.
He is stationed in Iraq.
He said it is hot.
When MB was finished with the hair dresser we went out for pizza.
We had a large pepperoni and we both had a diet pepsi to drink.
There were free refills on the diet pepsi.
I had four refills.
MB had zero refills.
I also finished MB's diet pepsi.
I ate seven pieces of pizza.
MB ate three pieces of pizza.
The bill came to $10.36.
MB received a birthday card from my brother in law today.
He sent her a check for fifty dollars.
We paid for the pizza out of the fifty dollars.
MB still has forty dollars left.
That's because I paid the thirty six cents out of my pocket.
When we got home I took pictures.
They are posted on buzznet.
Buzznet isn't working very well right now, but you can try later.
I will update MB's birthday extravaganza as events occur.
Later