It's getting close to that time again, isn't it. Oh, you know what time I mean.
No?
Oh, I think you do.
It's almost time for the Bozmeister and the Kevynnator to switch roles,
Damn, I almost said switch genders,
But I never do that, well not since parole and community service I don't, and Kevynn only does it weekends down at the pier when the sailors give him drinks and tips.
So sue him, he's got the legs for it.
But that is a story for another time and another place because right now it is time for
Wait for it .....
The Great Grand Ennui/Fat Free Milk Archive Exchange
Part the French word for three:
Kevynn's blog post, thingie, archive post.

Papa Boner...
God, I can't wait to be old. Serious.
I need to start planning my retirement fund.
It'll be great. I plan on living til' a hundred and eleven.
That sounds good, doesn't it? 111 years?
I want senior citizens to mutter to themselves, " Damn look at that guy! He's friggin' old!
I want to make up stories about myself and to mess with my children's heads.
You know how when you were young, you had no concept of history
and would ask your parents what it was like to live during the great depression
even if they were in their later thirties?
Or to ask them where they were when Lincoln died? I want to tell my children and grandchildren that I helped write The Dead Sea Scrolls,
but the part with "written by Kevynn Malone" got lost. I want to tell them that I created "The Rave". That I smoked Crack before it was "hip".
That I knew the original Betty Crocker and that Aunt Jemima wasn't really that fat. It was a marketing ploy,
she was actually quite the looker and that we once engaged in some heavy-petting after the homecoming dance sophmore year in high school.
I will cackle things out loud in public. I will name all of my body parts and talk to Wal-Mart employees about them like they were real people.
I will have no problem wearing diapers. What was fine for me when I was an infant, should be fine for me as the senior-ist citizen.
Staring at the ceiling for hours on end and breast-feeding. What? Did you think I meant playing with Fisher Price toys and eating baby food?
As I get older, my wardrobe will get worse. If I wear anything even remotely fashionable, I will wear an enormous baseball hat ten sizes
too big for me on the following day as penance. I will pretend to fall everyday at various eateries and make people feel guilty
for not telling me to "watch my step!" I want to watch t.v. for twenty-eight hours straight. All local news coverage. I want to kick ass, though.
Whether it's through my cane or a gnarled, old fist meting out punishment-I wanna be able to kick yo' butt.
I am getting old.
Look what I'm writing about...only old folk do that.
Maybe this is getting old too.
Bah!