Saturday, April 26, 2003

What is a blogger.
We are exhibitionists that like the view from the closet.
We can't understand why people read us.
We can't understand why people don't read us.
We need validation and break out in a cold sweat when our commenting system goes down.
We don't sleep, at least not in the usual manner.
We have phobias, bunches and bunches of phobias.
We go overboard, hit me, hit me, yeah baby hit me, link me too.
We freak over our first Google, hey I'm #47 for babies without noses Google rocks!
Your money or your blog.
I'm thinking, I'm thinking.
I *heart* you.
You *heart* me.
C'mon everybody ... group *heart*
You're the best.
No, you're the best.
Blog Free or Die.
I think I've derailed again, but I'm on a roll, so fuck it.
By the way, I'm not boz, it's just a nickname, and I wish when I picked it I would have picked a better one.
I AM BOZ, and many derivations thereof.
Love me people, you know you want to, better yet send me money.
Darling, you-uuuuuu send me, honest you do, honest you do, honest you do.
Sing it Sam.
I Put A Spell On You is classic, but Constipation Blues is priceless
And Nick Cave wishes he had the balls to carry Screamin' Jays balls.
And man I had such a crush on Linda Ronstadt, until she became mainstream and popular and stuff, and why is that.
I am Lenny be my Squiggy
I am Burns be my Allen
I am Nichols be my May
I am tired be my pillow
Good night everybody
Drive carefully and may gaw bless.