My goal is to make everyone feel like they have walked in on the middle of the movie.
Tuesday, September 30, 2003
Either - Or 1. Krispy Kreme or Tim Horton's
2. John Adams or John Q. Adams
3. Oriental or Occidental
4. NHL or NBA
5. Star Wars or Star Trek
6. Your Money or Your Life
7. Cable or Dish
8. PC or Mac
9. Innie or Outie
10. Zoloft or Paxil
11. Give or Take
12. Fries or Onion Rings
13. Nice and Easy or Hard and Fast
14. Rock or Paper or Scissors
15. Walmart or Kmart or Target
16. Fried or Scrambled or Poached
17. Good or Bad or Indifferent
18. True of False
19. Glasses or Contacts
20. Over or Under
21. Top or Bottom
22. Gas or Lethal Injection
23. DC or Marvel
24. Nude or Clothed
25. Hard Core or Soft Core
Feeding my foot fetish with a little Catherine Keener.
You call that a foot fetish.
Now, this is a foot fetish.
Catherine Keener's feet were not harmed in anyway in the making of this post.
That should keep FETA off my back, and did you notice my very subtle dig at PETA, I am too cool for the nations sagging economy.
I'm going back to bed, does anyone want to tuck me in, or smother me with my own pillow till drool runs out the side of my mouth and my heart explodes in my chest, and then you can stuff my lifeless corpse in the crawl space where I'll become food for the creatures that live under the house, thus ensuring that the evolutionary food chain will continue for a least a few more days, proving that my life was not a total waste of DNA, RNA, and numerous buckets of KFC.
On second thought, I think cartoons are on.
A Mr. Richard Fader from Ft. Lee New Jersey writes,
Dear Roseanne Roseannadanna boz,
What happened to all the girls.
Well, Mr Richard Fader from Ft. Lee New Jersey
I just haven't been able to find any that yank my chain, or it could be that ...
I just don't care anymore, I mean, think about it, no really think about and then get back to me.
If you were out last night you missed the premier of the new
Cable Access Channel 97 production of
Bitter and a Movie.
Hosted by ATL ... * and
Last nights feature was the 80's cult classic
Footloose Among the bitterness spewed force by our hosts were these gems:
ATL: Lori Singer is such a slut
boz: No, she's just sexually frustrated.
ATL: She could get someone killed pulling a stunt like that.
boz: Shhh, I'm trying to look up her skirt.
ATL: Baptists are hitters.
boz: Baptists are smiters.
boz: They had to get the whitest white boy in America and try to teach him to dance.
ATL: Emilio Estevez is in the movie?
ATL: The 80's kids were the wildest.
boz: It was the MTV that did it.
boz:Roger and Eleanor need to go home and fornicate.
ATL: AT least.
Join us next week when our bitterness will be directed towards
The Breakfast Club and hear comments like ...
ATL: Molly Ringwald is such a slut.
boz: Shhh, I'm trying to look up her dress.
I like movies, but I'm not a huge movie fan. I can't watch a movie over and over again. All that being said, here is a list of movies that had an effect on me when I saw them either at the theater or on television. Blame this on Paul.
1. The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance
2. To Kill a Mockingbird
3. Swiss Family Robinson
4. The Bad Seed
5. Bonnie and Clyde
6. The Wild Angels
7. Brewster McCloud
8. Raising Arizona
9. Adventures in Babysitting
10. The Anderson Tapes
11. Dr. Strangelove
12. Bye Bye Birdie
13. Blackboard Jungle
14. Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo
15. Arsenic and Old Lace
16. M (1931)
17. Go Tell the Spartans
18. The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner
19. Three Days of the Condor
20. King Kong
That's enough for now.
I don't know why they effected me, go check out
IMDB or Rotten Tomatoes, and you tell me why they effected me.
Why should I do all the work, I'm a freakin' artist not a messenger boy.
Umm, sorry, don't know where that came from.
I said I wasn't going to do this, because I hate to play favorites, but I'm not playing favorites, I'm just picking five bloggers who I would invite to dinner, so don't take it personal if you aren't on the list, unless you are on the list, then you can take it personal.
So here it goes, and in no particular order ..
The Five Bloggers I Would Invite To Dinner
An alphabet full of names of women who if they had that name I could never have sex with …
A – Agatha, but I’d do an Aggie.
B – Bertha, I was going to pick Beryl, but Soupy Sales had a hit song called “Hey
Beryl, Won’t Ya Be My Girl” back in the 60’s and who can argue with that.
C – Cissy, just way to Prep School, old money for my taste, Cissy VanButtmuncher, see what I mean.
D – Dora – It was between DiDi and Dora, but girls named Didi give oral and take anal, so there you go.
E – Eunice, just because of Carol Burnett.
F – Flo, sorry, it just sounds so menstrual.
G – Gertrude, but Gertie rocks.
H – Hester, hey the bitch was an adulteress !!!
I – Iris, sounds like the name of one of my mother’s friends from when I was a kid, and that would just be wrong, so very wrong.
J - Jacqueline, in deference to our former president.
K – Kukla, the puppeteer from the old TV show Kukla, Fran, and Ollie, wait, Fran was the puppeteer, Kukla was one of the puppets, never mind.
L – LaVerne, see Shirley.
M - Mathilda, but Mattie and Tilly could be my dream double team.
N – Naomi, because she’s Winona’s mother, or is that Wynona?
O – Opal, sounds too much like Opal Cadet, and I don’t think they make that car anymore anyways.
P – Prunella, pretty much self-explanatory.
Q – Queenie, the only Q name I could think of.
R – Rhiannon, but I still love that song.
S – Shirley, see LaVerne.
T – Tsetseko, the Japanese girl who broke my heart, of course a different Japanese girl broke my heart every week, so don't cry for me Argentina.
U – Ultra-Violet, don’t smirk, she was part of Andy Warhol’s Factory, so she might be transsexual, NTTAWWI.
V – Virginia, it’s a fucking state, not a name.
W – Wanda, too many fish called Wanda.
X – XuXu, sounds too much like what I called a bowel movement when I was little.
Y – Yolanda, because isn’t she a friend of Oprah.
Z – Zelda, because Dobie Gillis already had her.
Here's a good one that I got from Divine Trash, who got it from someone else, who might have gotten it from someone else, and who knows where it will end, or begin.
If you could invite Five Bloggers to Dinner who would you invite? I'm not going to take this quiz, I just want to know how many of you would invite me.
Hamlet: Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow
of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath
borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how
abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at
it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know
not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your
gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment,
that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one
now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen?
Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let
her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must
come; make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell
me one thing.
Spicoli: Whoa, awesome Yorick! I dug him, Horatio: a dude
of infinite chuckles, of most excellent, excellent, fancy: he hath
borne me on his board a thousand times; and now, how
bummed in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at
it. Way ... no way ... way. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know
not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your
gambols? your tunes? your flashes of merriment,
that were bogus to chow down on a roar? Not one
now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen?
Now get you to my babes's crib, and tell her, let
her chill an inch thick, to this favour she must
come; make her stoked at that. Totally, Horatio, Ch'yeah.
I am stepping out of my Jeff Spicoli character for a minute because I have something I'd like to say to all of you.
Jeebus Fooking Xmas!!! You people really know how to put a damper on things.
Here I thought I had a cute idea where everyone could comment and play along ala Jeff Spicoli the Sean Penn character from Fast Times at Ridgemont High. I mean I played along with your stupid
Talk Like A Pirate Day.
Excuse me if I sound petty, but I have feelings to you know, I mean if you cut me I bleed, if you punch me in the La Bonza I ralph, etc etc etc.
Thanks for hearing me out,
And now back to Jeff Spicoli
Here it is five in the morning and I'm partly wide awake and my favorite alternative lifestyle lesbianesque movie Better Than Chocolate is on the Sundance Channel, and Blogger is still at least partially down. Life is sweet, but not so you'd know.
I checked the back of my computer/desk area earlier today, and I've got cords and wires everywhere. So tonight I'm going to do something about it. I went out and bought some surge protectors and I'm going to get anal retentive on their ass.
I might even color code and cross reference everything, or at least group and separate all the stuff.
On a completely different topic, I am thinking about compiling a dictionary, or a boztionary of different words, terms and phrases that I commonly use in here, just to make it easier for you, my readers, to understand my sometimes muddled attempts at lucidityityity.
And now on to the cord detangling ...
I can't believe it. I pour my heart and soul into that Jefferson Airplane post and I get nothing from you rat bastards, and did you know that Ford Auditorium, where they played is, or was, because I don't know if it's still standing, is, or was located on Jefferson Avenue. Coincidence ... I think not.
But yeah, I'm a little bit hurt, and I did watch The Fellowship of the Rings last night, and that guy who played Frodo has to be about the worst actor of all times. His only emotion was opening his eyes even wider and letting his jaw drop another two inches, and I wonder if he's related to Fredo from the Godfather, and forget that part, I'm just padding now, not that you care, not that you're reading this, not that rain in Spain falls mainly in the plain, but I'm pretty sure it does.
So just screw you all.
Review of the July 1967 Jefferson Airplane concert at Ford Auditorium, Detroit Michigan
Let’s see if I can remember this right.
I had a date, yeah, really, I did, and the tickets cost like two and a half bucks each.
My date’s name was Jill, and I think I’ve talked about her before. She was way too cool for me, her long auburn hair, olive complexion, mostly pink mini-dress and sandals, and it’s kind of funny because I can barely remember what she looked like, but I’ll never forget that mini-dress and the legs coming out of it.
I was tall and skinny, and I mean way skinny, something like 150 lbs on a six foot two plus frame, and I was wearing a blue shirt, or wait it might have been a pinstriped shirt, well, I was wearing a shirt, that much I know for sure, and a tie, a wide tie, a wide paisley tie, and pants, and this was before bell bottoms, so I’m thinking they might have been some kind of khaki, because I was big on khaki back then.
Now this is the embarrassing part. Jill drove, because I didn’t have my driver’s license, well not too embarrassing because she was driving her dad’s 67 Pontiac Bonneville, which was a convertible, but not a regular convertible, sort of a hard top convertible, and yeah they really used to have them back then.
Holy shit, that plane that just flew overhead made the house shake.
So, where was I, oh yeah the review of the Jefferson Airplane concert.
Besides the Airplane there were four other local groups as opening acts.
The first two I had never heard of, one was called The Ourselves and the other were The Apostles.
They did covers of popular songs of the day, and I remember one of them did a song by Eric Bourdon and the Animals, and the other did a song by The Young Rascals.
The next act was the MC5. Yeah the same MC5 that had such a big cult following in the early 70’s, the same but different. You have to remember that this was the psychedelic era and that’s what the MC5 tried to do. Too bad it really sucked. Their 15 minute set consisted of one song of nothing but noise, and about all I remember is the lead singer walking back and forth across the stage banging a tambourine.
The final opening act was the top local band of the time called The Rationals. They were bigger than either Bob Segar and his group or Ted Nugent and his group, and a year or so later the lead singer had a tryout to become the lead singer in Blood Sweat, and Tears.
They were very clean cut, sort of like The Association and put on a good set.
And geez, this whole review is really starting to suck, but I started it, and I’m going to finish it, and if I wasn’t so anal retentive I’d leave all my typos in, but I am, so I won’t.
Then the Airplane came on. This was their big summer and they had already had a couple of hits with Somebody To Love, which is still one of my favorites, and White Rabbit, which was ehhhhh, but I did have their album Surrealistic Pillow, and if you hold on a minute I’ll put it on, and even though you can’t hear it, I can, and maybe it will inspire me to write a better class of drivel.
Ok, I couldn’t find the Jefferson Airplane, but I did find the Lovin’ Spoonful, who I actually liked better, and I probably would have paid as much as three dollars a ticket to see them play, but they weren't, so I didn't, such is the stuff dreams are made of, or something equally pithy.
Anyway, well, actually they pretty much sucked too, but they looked pretty good doing it. The instruments drowned out the vocals, and except for Somebody To Love and White Rabbit, I had no idea what song they were playing, but as I said, they looked good, and Grace Slick looked exceptionally good, and remember it only cost five bucks for the both of us, and Jill was part of the both of us, and even though nothing ever happened between the two of us, well we did have sex back in my bedroom a lot, except Jill wasn’t there when we had it, but I was good, damned good, and I found out later from the very same Jill, that her best friend who’s name was either Mindy or Pam, but I’m kind of leaning towards Mindy, had a huge crush on me, and she probably would have had sex with me in my bedroom and she might have actually showed up and been part of it. except Jill didn’t tell me about this until Mindy or Pam, but I’m still leaning towards Mindy, had moved about 200 miles away.
So, if you ever get the chance to time travel back to 1967 and see The Jefferson Airplane in concert with either Jill or me as a date, go for it, I mean shit, gas was 20 cents a gallon, a pack of cigarettes cost about 30 cents, and people didn’t laugh at you if you said stuff like groovy, far out, or what’s happening man, and that’s all a plus in my book … baby.
Should I watch the first part of the Ring Trilogy tonight on Encore. I've never seen it before, but I have read both the Hobbit and the Ring Trilogy, and I even read the Harvard Lampoon parody Bored of the Rings.
Well, should I watch it, should I huh, huh, huh.
Let me know. It comes on in an hour and I'm going to take a shower right now, and how about a little Kettle Corn to go with it, the movie not the shower.
Has anything good ever happened on a Sunday.
Ignore that, it was just my rap against organized religion, or organized anything for that matter.
Never mind, just never mind, go read somebody else's stuff.
No, I mean it, just leave me alone, I'm serious.
Oh no, he has a gun !!! No, I don't.
Look out, look out, he's got a gun. No I don't, I don't have a fucking gun.
Look out, he's going to shoot. Yeah, yeah, whatever ... bang, bang, bang.
There, are you happy.
Um, I guess so, but I expected more blood.
It's a little slow today, isn't it. So I thought I'd liven it up with a little Halloween
merriment, from me to you, by way of the $ Store.
Hey, Halloween is only six weeks away, shop early and shop often, and if you're nice I might tell you about the time when I was twelve years old and ...
but that's a story for another time, which means I'll probably forget about as soon as I hit post and publish.
See what I mean, I've forgotten already.
Highlights of My First Year 1. People sent me stuff, sometimes good stuff.
2. A lot of nice pics from a lot of nice women.
3. The sweater Malone sent me for Xmas, and don't roll your eyes, it was a nice sweater and it doesn't mean we're gay, well it doesn't mean I'm gay, NTTAWWI.
4. The CD exchanges with HD, Shanti, Rosa Posa, and the Malone Xmas Crap CD exchange.
5. Having the status of icon bestowed upon me, so what if I had to bestow it myself.
6. The many derivatives of boz, running the gamut from Bozzie to the Grand Bozoo, ok I made the Grand Bozoo up, but wtf, 90% of the stuff I blog I've made up.
7. Being able to type ATLSuper
8. Chatting with rosa posa, and you wouldn't believe the mouth on her.
9. Getting to know the East Coast crowd, even the ones from Jersey.
10. Sniff, sniff, sniff, feeling like a father to all of you.
11. Don't forget the Brits, and hopefully they know who they are, because for the life of me I can't remember.
12. Oh yeah, and the Atlanta crowd, even though 2 of them have moved away, and the other one has a kidney infection.
13. And the California crowd of Malone and all his lackies, and also the rest of the California crowd who aren't Malone's lackies, Pam from San Diego, the Hard Artist out of OC, Shanti from the north, and sighhhhh ...
dvl from LA by way of Beverly Hills.
14. And for the rest of you who I have neglected to mention, here is a little something ...
[Your Name] I couldn't have done it without you.
Here's something cool and a little bit scary.
Go to Google, and type your phone number into the search box, if your phone is listed it will give your name and address and the option to map the location to your house.
Of course most of you already knew this and were just keeping it from me and laughing about it behind my back.
You rat bastards.
Originally posted September 19, 2002
This is my first entry in my new journal. The website has been fairly easy to create, once I got the hang of things. The html is pretty easy, and I have been able to find all the tools that I need. From here on out I think I will just be adding and tweaking as I go along. I love a good tweak
Just 10 Things 1. I had sex on an airplane.
2. The library at the university I attended used to cut all the naked pictures out of the magazines, I checked, over and over and over again.
3. 1965 was a pivotal year in my life.
4. I had my first really kinky sex when I was in Japan.
5. The summer of 2003 has been very sweet.
6. Ok, maybe 10 things was stretching it a bit.
7. Can you tell that I never wanted to be a writer.
8. I've never gotten caught, ever.
9. I spent two weeks in New Jersey.
10. The first time I ever made out with a girl we were listening to Beatle records in my best friends basement.
1. Has there ever been anyone worse than Hitler?
Yes, his twin brother Brian was ten times worse. Luckily for the world he was murdered by the Hells Angels at a Stones concert in Munich in 1921.
2. Did Pete Best, the Beatles drummer before Ringo Starr, get a raw deal?
Yes, Pete Best got a raw deal. John Lennon was jealous of Pete’s popularity with the ladies, so he had manager Brian Epstein kick him out of the group just before they signed their first record deal. However, Pete got his revenge with the little known but very potent Pete Best Curse. Item, Brian Epstein died four years later. Item, John Lennon murdered outside his apartment. Item, George Harrison dies in the prime of life. Item, Paul McCartney’s wife Linda dies in the prime of life. Item, John F. Kennedy, a major Beatle’s fan assassinated in Dallas by Pete Best look alike Lee Harvey Oswald. Item, and this is the most chilling, Yoko Ono is still alive. Coincidence, I think not.
3. What is the hardest spot to shave?
On me it’s my right palm, go figure.
4. Would you like to meet me in real life, or at least talk to me on the phone?
Due to the overwhelming positive response to this question I am going to give everyone a chance to meet me. I will be appearing at the East Tawas Michigan Holiday Inn, Conference Room B, on October 28, 2003 from Noon till 6PM. Admission will be five dollars, there will be lectures, symposiums, and workshops. I will also be available to sign autograph books, pictures, posters, breasts, buttocks, and female genitalia. Think Star Trek convention without the Klingon geeks.
5. If you could go back in time, like Mr Sherman and Peabody, and change one event, what would it be?
The birth of Jean Claude Van Damme.
6. Name your favorite band or group whose name begins with the letter S?
The Stolling Rones.
7. Would you have sex with a young Bette Davis?
Only if it was the pre-WWII Bette Davis. The war changed her, like it did so many others, and not for the good.
8. If money can't buy love what is the best thing it can buy?
A shitload of stuff on Ebay.
9. Who is, or was, the worst cast member ever on Saturday Night Live?
The unholy trilogy of Gilbert Gottfried, David Spade, and Adam Sandler.
10. Have you ever been sexually aroused by Jodie Foster?
Does at the present moment count?
Originally Posted November 19, 1863
Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this
continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the
proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in
a great civil war, testing whether that nation or any nation so
conceived and so dedicated can long endure. We are met on a great
battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of
that field as a final resting-place for those who here gave their
lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and
proper that we should do this. But in a larger sense, we cannot
dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground.
The brave men, living and dead who struggled here have consecrated
it far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will
little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never
forget what they did here. It is for us the living rather to be
dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here
have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here
dedicated to the great task remaining before us--that from these
honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which
they gave the last full measure of devotion--that we here highly
resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this
nation under God shall have a new birth of freedom, and that
government of the people, by the people, for the people shall
not perish from the earth.
1. Has there ever been anyone worse than Hitler.
2. Did Pete Best, the Beatles drummer before Ringo Starr, get a raw deal.
3. What is the hardest spot to shave.
4. Would you like to meet me in real life, or at least talk to me on the phone.
5. If you could go back in time, like Mr Sherman and Peabody, and change one event, what would it be.
6. Name your favorite band or group whose name begins with the letter S.
7. Would you have sex with a young Bette Davis.
8. If money can't buy love what is the best thing it can buy.
9. Who is, or was, the worst cast member ever on Saturday Night Live.
10. Have you ever been sexually aroused by Jodie Foster.
Originally Posted February 20, 2003
Damn, is it Thursday already? I am just Thursdaying my life away, one Thursday at a time. Has there ever been a song written about Thursday? I think the rest of the days of the week have their song. I should check on that, and I should trim my toenails too, but I'm not going to do either tonight. Monday, Monday, Ruby Tuesday, I'll have to think about Wednesday for a bit, Friday On My Mind, Another Saturday Night, Sunday Will Never Be the Same, ok, Wednesday Morning 3 AM, see I was right, there are no Thursday songs, and don't argue with me, ok, just let me be right this one time, ok, and don't raise your voice, ok, and throw another shrimp on the barbie, ok, and call me, don't be afraid you can call me, maybe it's late, but just call me, call me and I'll be around, ok.
Ok, It's like this. It's 2:15PM and I just got out of bed for about the third time today. There's nothing wrong with me, I'm not sick, or depressed, or apathetic, well I am a little stiff from the long drive yesterday, but that's about it.
The birds are bitching because I haven't fed them yet, I'm unwashed, uncombed, with breath like the remnants of yesterdays oral sex.
Should I just chuck it in and put it on crusie control for the rest of the day, or should I try to salvage what is left of the day by paying bills, running errands, and/or going grocery shopping.
Should I make a post now, or should I just go back to bed.
Except for the being closer to death thing, I'm kind of glad that I'm not young anymore, but to be brutally honest ...
Nah, that would never work.
Never mind, it's not important.
The Beast of Boz Favorite Post #7, but who's counting.
Originally posted December 16, 2002
Someone emailed me this yesterday. It was, I guess, written by the person who banned me from their site.
The Boz Clause
Once upon a time, there was a XXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXX member who went by the name Boz. On Thanksgiving Day of all days, Boz decided it would be fun to initiate an arguement with the administrator. The admin wasted no time telling Boz where to stick it. Boz couldn't handle a taste of his own medicine. Rather than handle the situation in an adult manner, he stormed into the message board and deleted every single post he ever submitted. Because there was nothing written in the rules stating that he couldn't do it, he thought that he would get away with it.
The meaning of the Boz Clause is quite simple. Just because an activity or behaviour hasn't been forbidden in the rules, doesn't mean your membership won't be terminated. It only means that nobody has been dumb enough to do it, yet. Rest assured if you intentionally set out to disrupt the flow of our forums in any way, you will be banned from every, single website owned by the admin, both currently and in the future.
Like most things that start out "once upon a time" the story that followed was a complete fairy tale.
However, my name was spelled correctly, and I did get a clause named after me. What more could I ask for? I can feel my ego inflating as I speak. Life is sweet. I AM BOZ!!!!!!
Cunty Fresh Me said she might be my daughter if the price is right, and doesn't that just about prove it, and in bizarro world isn't Cunty Fresh Me a feminine hygiene product, or maybe a new adult ice cream flavor.
Ok, there are some real weenies out there.
You know who you are so I won't embarrass you by naming names, but I could, and I might, but just not now.
I guess my point is this ...
Stop being weenies.
Stop being weenies in my blog.
Stop being weenies in the blogs I read.
Stop being weenies when you're walking down the street.
I don't even want you to be weenies when you are in bed at night
and you're trying to dream your weenie dreams.
And if you don't stop being weenies ...
You don't even want to know.
Originally posted February 28, 2003
I was going to rent some movies for the weekend but the karma or something just wasn't right.
When I walked into the video store they had some loud rock music blaring from the speakers, I like rock music, but this was some kind of neo pre-packaged 80's hair band type rock, and we all know what happens to people who listen to hair band music don't we.
Ok, I like cruising the aisles taking my time, it's a big store and a whole lot of movies, but there must have been a hundred and seventeen little ankle biting kids busting a move down each and every aisle and every one of them wanted to stand where I was already standing.
And the sun was shining too, that awkward kind of sun through the window at such an angle that you really couldn't see anything without getting a sun reflected brain burn off of the plastic video boxes.
Hey, I can deal with this. I'm a vet, I've stared Charlie down with nothing but the wrong end of a bayonet between us. Ok, I made that part about Charlie and the bayonet up, but I am a vet, just not a Vietnam vet, but yeah I can deal with it.
I can deal with it until I hear the gurgle in my bowels followed closely by the tap dancing in my intestines, yeah, I was starting to have an Immodium-D moment.
So to make a long story short,
and the crowd lets out a mighty cheer,
if their were a Movie Nazi he would be telling me
"No movies for you tonight
I ... am ... sick ... head ... aches ... throat ... raw ... stomach ... ache ... will ... not ... be ... leaving ... house ... today ... must ... rest ... and ... recuperate ... sleep ... precious ... sleep ... will ... probably ... not ... be ... posting ... today ... BUT ... since ... I ... am ... going ... to ... be ... home ... all ... day ... I ... may ... be ... posting ... all ... day ... or ... at ... least ... sitting ... in ... front ... of ... the ... computer ... and ... watching ... tv ... all day ... or ... something ... BABY !!!
It's almost 5 am and I am sick or I can't sleep or whatever.
Anyway, it's like this, I have another sort of maybe claim to my paternity, and did I say that right.
It seems that Cow Boris either thinks, wishes, or fears that I am his father.
As we all know I am the son of John Wayne and Bettie Page, and I am also the father of Cacoa Pulp and HotDamn Doyle, and don't you think they should stop letting me name my progeny.
So does anyone else want to jump on the
Boz is My Daddy bandwagon.
I'd be willing to take a paternity test as long as it doesn't involve needles and blood or Maury Povich.
I think I might feel better if I could ralph, and
Who put the benzedrine in Mrs. Murphy's Ovaltine, and Seymour an Introduction.
I love you ... goodnight.
Friday the 13th is on a Saturday this month.
Be that as it may ...
I'm lost here, so good night, and as Bob "The Bear" Hite used to say,
"Don't forget to Boogie ... boogie ... boogie.
And Pass me a cheeseburger, or two, or three, or man just keep 'em coming, and I'll tell you when to stop"
Originally posted January 23, 2003
If you could have dinner with five other people, past or present, fact or fiction, famous or not, who would they be, and for extra credit what would you have for dinner?
1. Mark Twain
2. Helen Keller
3. Abraham Lincoln
4. Charles Manson's mother
5. Donnie Most, Ralph Malph from Happy Days
Dinner would be the 15 Piece Meal from KFC, both original and extra crispy. Helen clams up if she doesn't get her extra crispy, the bitch. A side of slaw. A side of wedges. A side of baked beans, remind me not to sit next to Lincoln. 3 Pepsi's, One diet Mr Pibb, and one bourbon with branch water, Twain is such a lush.
Hmmm, looks like we have a love connection, Twain and Charlie's mother are really hitting it off, if you know what I mean.
Could be trouble here. Helen Keller just called Donnie Most an imbecile for leaving Happy Days, and she did it in sign, damn, that's harsh.
Who Should Replace Him Ok, and now on to the John Ritter dilemma.
What are we going to do about his sitcom Eight Rules for Screwing My Teenage Daughters, or Something Like That. The show should continue, we are all agreed on that, aren't we, yeah, I thought we were.
A single parent household headed up by Peg Bundy, no I don't think so.
How about an equally annoying male 70's sitcom star to replace him.
Bored Housewife suggested Henry Winkler, which is an excellent choice, actually almost any of the male cast members of Happy Days would be a good fit.
Or the patron saint of
Shark Jumpers ...
Come on, there must be other suitable replacements, hell they replaced Darrin, they do it all the time.
Who, who who.
How about Ted Wass, Blossom's wimpy dad.
And Richard Thomas would be a perfect fit, you know John-Boy Walton, and didn't they even replace him.
Erik Estrada, nah a little too ethnic, and I heard he's hard to work with too.
I'm tired, you come up with a few, and I'll send them in to ABC, I have their ear, no honest I do.
We've all heard of internet Superstar Josie Nutter, and we've all heard of BlogShares, but how many of you knew that I, the bozzer, own 1500 blogshares of Josie Nutter's Live Journal, which I bought at $23.56 per share, and is now worth $478.15 per share for a total holding of $717,223.37.
You can now add Mogul to the list of things that you call me.
And don't be afraid, you can call me, call me and I'll be around.
Ok, I know I said I was going to put it to rest, but ...
One more thing about Johnny Cash.
Nah, forget it. It was just about John and me both being in the air force, but almost thirty years apart, and we both had the same job, and the job was classified as top secret, and Johnny wrote a book and talked about his experiences in the air force, and one day while I was in the air force I got a memo saying that we were never to refer to the fact that John had written a book, and that this book that he didn't write, but actually did write, dealt with top secret information, that was similar to what I was dealing with at the present time, of course this was thirty years ago when I was dealing with the information, so now I am going to set the record straight once and for all.
Johnny Cash wrote a book.
Fuck you National Security Agency.
Ok, one more thing about Johnny Cash, and then I'll put it to rest, pun intended.
Back in the late 70's there was a book called The Book of Lists, and it consisted of nothing but various lists compiled by various people. Johnny Cash, the hero of our post, was asked to name the top country songs of all times. He came up with a list of eight songs, six of which were his, that alone puts him in the Boz Hall of Fame.
I'm not sure, but I think I may owe a shitload of back child support, either that or I used to be in a band called Dead Yeti, and isn't that a novel way to start your blogging day.
And wouldn't it be just like me to name my son Cow Boris. Either that or I was the shy, but serious bass player. (Think Stu Sutcliffe)
Excuse my disjointedness today, too much diet Pepsi, and also I'm still reeling over the deaths of Cash and Ritter, and fearing for the life of Carson.
Holy shit, John Ritter and Johnny Cash both dead, oh the humanity.
Who will be the third of the John/Johnny trinity.
I dunno, but Johnny Carson better stay indoors today.
I will now put on my Johnny Cash 3 CD set, go back to bed and dream about why I hated 3's Company.
Ok, ATL* has officially gone crazy.
First this T-shirt trading idea, which by the way even though it is crazy it is still a great idea which I probably thought of in a past life ...
And I think she is on her 269th template in the past three days.
Stop her before she templates again!!!
Ok, maybe I over reacted when I called her crazy, but you'd better keep an eye on her, because you can never tell.
Ouch-hhhhhh, that was her bitchslapping me around my blog.
To celebrate the two pound weight loss I had three dishes of ice cream today.
I mean I deserved it, and it was good, and my body hurt and ached all day, and the only thing to help ease the pain was the ice cream, because the Tylenol didn't help, and I watched parts of a bunch of movies today, one was with Helena Bonham Carter, another was with a very young and very slim Minnie Driver, and doesn't that sound like what someone who has a tiny car is, and the other one didn't have any hot chicks in it because it took place in a German concentration camp, and have you noticed the revisionist WW2 history lately, the bad guys are either Nazi's or SS or Gestapo, they are never referred to as Germans, or is it just me.
Originally posted December 31, 2002
I am at the stage of my cold where every time I fall asleep I wake up, and it's a bitch. It's a bitch is a very sexist term isn't it. I imagine you could substitute, it's a bastard, if your genderosity is easily offended. Genderosity, what a hoot. Either way, it wrecks havoc on my already fragile sleep pattern. Stuffy nose, sniffles, sore throat, sneezing, coughing, these have become the norm for my night. If that isn't bad enough, I like to sleep in boxer shorts, but because of a slight chill that goes hand in glove with my cold, I have taken to wearing an old pair of pajama bottoms that I found stuffed in the back of one of my drawers. That is all well and good, but as I mentioned they are an old pair of pajama bottoms, old in the sense that the elastic in the waistband is a thing of the past, and whenever I get up to go to the bathroom, which is a very frequent occurrence due to the cold, the pajama bottoms usually end up around my ankles by the time I make it to the bathroom door, and this is not a good thing, because .... are you still with me? When I was a small child they had the last of the big polio scares and one morning I woke up to, you guessed it, go to the bathroom, and I couldn't walk. I was in extreme agony, dragging myself, bawling, and screaming across the floor. You have to realize that this was about five in the morning. so of course my parents were both sound asleep, sound asleep that is until they heard my anguished cries. I was able to babble out that I couldn't walk, and my mother totally freaked. She had POLIO in her eyes. My dad, being the more practical of the two, decided to give me a cursory physical. He pulled down my pajama bottoms and found that my underpants had slipped down around my knees, and yes in our family my father was at least as important as Dr. Jonas Salk in finding a cure for polio, he deftly pulled my underpants back up, and PRAISE THE LORD, I could walk again.
As a brief footnote to this story, I had the same problem a few weeks later, but neither of my parents bothered getting up to help their youngest child as he literally dragged his crippled body across the floor towards the bathroom. The heartless beasts, where was child welfare when I needed them?
This story goes nowhere, and proves nothing except that it is four o'clock in the morning, and my cold is at the stage where every time I fall asleep, I wake up.
My body aches like a MoFo today, feel my pain.
It must have had something to do with replacing one 27 inch television with another 27 inch television and vice versa.
Tylenol for everybody, and I'll meet you at the bank.
Okie Dokie, I finally got my new 6-1 Kodak memory card working thanks to a little online help from Kodak.
Stupid Kodak, they tell you one thing in the manual, and they tell you the complete opposite when you talk with a service rep.
So here is the first pic that I uploaded with the new card reader.
I'm naked, but you just can't see me.
And yeah, this is taken with my old digicam, now I've got to start trying to figure out how to take a decent picture with the new camera, and wouldn't you think a 2.1 megapixel camera would take a better picture than a 1.3 megapixel camera, well damn it, wouldn't you.
Man, and I mean that in the generic sense, I wish I could get back to sleep, but here I am not quite wide awake, but worlds away from sound asleep, and did I mention I wish I could get back to sleep, and did I mention the fact that I made a vow to almost never use question marks in here?
I'm trying to think if there are any 24 Hour joints in town, not that I would visit them, but it would just be comforting to know that they existed if the need arose, and yes, there is a gas station slash party store, and I suppose I could go chat up the female cashiers that have more tattoos than teeth, like I'm one to cast aspersions ...
Or, I could go to the hospital and bitch to the people in the emergency room and read year old copies of Redbook or Michigan Deer Hunter.
But once again ... I digress.
Now, that wasn't so painful, was it.
[Editor's note: No drugs were harmed in the writing of this post]
Talk amongst yourself, or among yourself, or to yourself.
I'm going out, but I'll be back by dark, don't worry it's a heredity thing, wish me luck in my quest for the Ultimate Bargain.
And the colored girls sing ...
di di dit di di dit di di di di dit
The Best of Boz, an Anniversary Special Favorite Post #10
Originally posted November 30, 2002
Ellen Barkin, Ellen Barkin, Ellen Barkin. What can you say about Ellen Barkin? She looks like she was just kicked out of a double wide, but Geez-O-Pete, there is something about Ellen Barkin, Ellen Barkin, Ellen Barkin.
Ellen Barkin, Ellen Barkin ......
Thanks for the autographed pic EB.
I need Topics.
And I don't mean Topics Shakur.
If I were to get a dog what should I name it.
I bought a new "extra gel" seat cover for my bicycle and I also bought a new bed in the bag ... cheap.
I think the defining moment of my life was when I dropped out of kindergarten, or maybe when I started taking zoloft.
I have two different air fresheners in this room, this room being my bedroom. One is baby powder and the other is vanilla, they are both really nice fragrances, but if I had to choose, I'd choose vanilla, no wait, I'd choose baby powder.
It will be my one year blogging anniversary in ten days. I think I'll do a count down of ten of my favorite posts from the last year. I can sense your excitement already.
Back to bed.
Nude Blogging Night was a complete success.
Only a few made it to chat, but I could sense rampant nudity throughout the blogging world, and that's what it's all about anyway, isn't it, or something.
Excuse my disjointed ramblings, but I am very sleepy and doc, and grumpy, and bashful and happy, and dopey, and that one that I can never remember the name of, but I am, pretty sure it wasn't manfred, or a derivative thereof.
Goodnight, or whatever.
See you in the morning or sometime.
Same bat time, same bat channel.
Monday Night Nude Blogging Update I will be nude blogging in the Grand Ennui chat room from appx. 10 PM EDT till Midnight EDT.
Feel free to join me in a
Nude Blogging Happening.
Nude blogging, it's so 2003.
Malone accidentally came up with a good idea the other night, naked blogging.
I Boz the Toz hereby proclaim Monday, or Tuesday for our friends on the other side of the international dateline ...
Naked Monday Night Blogging Night, or Something I think you get the drift.
If interested just leave a little comment in the comment thing(s).
Oh yeah, if you have a webcam, you might want to take a discreet naked blogging pic and let me post it here, or, sigh, you can post it on your own site, but it would probably look better on my site, but I'm not going to press it, do what you want, you do anyway.
Lame set-up for a good pic, but I do remember one time when I was just a kid, and my sister had just graduated from high school, and she had a graduation sleepover pajama party at our house, and there weren't many pajamas, but there were a lot of bras and panties, and you have to remember this was 1959, so the bras were bullet bras, and the panties, well the panties were mostly white or pastel, and I got a good peek or two until my father came up from behind and smote me blind, just before my mother came up from behind and smote him blind.
I am using the Google Toolbar because it blocks pop-ups, or so it claims, and it has so far, and a good pop-up blocker is essential when you are surfing porn, because when you surf porn, and you surf it right, you should be getting enough pop-ups of the anatomical variety to blah, blah, blah, blah ....
Ms Fancy Panties was bemoaning her belief that she would never be an Angel of the Month, but of course the trashy guhl was wrong.
Her chances are as good as any of the Angels, but that got me to thinking ...
No Chance of Becoming an Angel of the Month 1. Eva Braun
2. Angel Felipe
3. Barbara Bush
4. Janet Reno
5. Aretha Franklin
6. Lorena Bobbitt
7. Gloria Aldred
8. Anna Nicole Smith
9. Brandi Chastain
10. Marge Simpson
I once gave a girl dead flowers, I mean really really dead flowers, but it wasn't my fault, it was Thoreau's fault, no not the Thoreau who sat next to me in International Relations, that was Bud Thoreau, I'm talking about Henry David Thoreau, the Walden Pond guy. You see, we had been studying Thoreau, HD not Bud, just before Xmas break, and somebody came up with the idea that we should exchange Xmas gifts, not the store bought kind, but the kind that Thoreau, not Bud but HD, would deem appropriate, like something you made, or a poem you had written, you know, something from the heart, and of course ... flowers were always nice, but it was the dead of winter, and the only flowers I could find were in my mom's garden and of course they were all dead, so you see my dilemma.
Anyway, I think the name of the girl I drew was Janeane (sic) and she later had a nervous breakdown, not because of the flowers, but because she was worried about final exams, but I bet the flowers didn't help it any.
Dear sweet Janeane (sic) I'm truly sorry.
And don't you think that Thoreau idea of exchanging Xmas gifts is really boss.
Oh yeah, boss is just 60's slang for ummm, well, you tell me.
Ok, who has been screwing with my zonkboard, fess up now, and it will go easier on all of you, and tonight I will be wearing pajama bottoms because it is a bit on the nippley side, and speaking of nippley, I still intend on getting the right one pierced in a week or so, and despite what a certain wife of a certain nephew said, I am not defiling god's body, I am defiling my body, and when I'm done with it, I don't care who claims it, or what they do with it, how about a little boz tartar. And nobody, and I mean nobody, manhandles or chickhandles my body without my permission, unless they pay me.
None of this probably makes sense to you right now, but maybe one day when my book Hi, I'm Boz is published, it will clear things up.
By the way ...
Hi, I'm Boz.
Ok now. I think things are finally starting to get back to normal in my so called life.
Blogger still sucks, but c'est la vie, and pardon my attempt at French.
I've got my new 120 gig hard drive installed, but my memory card reader is fucked to the max, and the new digital camera takes the world worst pictures, at least indoors under artificial light, and I haven't taken any outdoors, by my educated guess would be that they'll suck too.
And I've been downloading a lot of Girls Gone Wild Videos, and they don't look .....
Wait a minute, I've got an idea.
It's, it's, it's, hold on a second because it's a good one.
Bozley's Angels Gone Wild!!! Ok, Ok, Ok.
Send me your pics, your videos, your underwear, and me, I'm boz, will send you a strand of really cheap beads, scouts honor.
And did you ever notice how many of those GGW girls need a shave, or at least a trim.
And what is your opinion of landing strips, in 25 words or less, or more, more or less.
Has blogger been acting screwy for ya'll too.
Notice the use of the vernacularly incorrect ya'll.
That's because I am chatting with everyone's favorite Super* formerly of ATL and now of OKLA, so should it be OklaSuper* or TulsaSuper* or SomeOtherCityinOklaSuper*
In other news, company is on it's last legs, and my last official duty is going to the campground tomorrow for a bbq, so that means my house is now my house, no more shutting the door when I go to the john, no more using knives and forks, or plates, or napkins, or stuff, and I can drink my pepsi or coke right out of the two liter bottle if I damn well please.
Viva La Independence, or something that might be a trifle more appropriate.
Mmmmm, trifles, I could use one of them suckers right about now.
But I digress, and goodnight.
One more day. One more day. One more day. One more day. One more day. One more day. One more day. One more day. One more day. One more day. One more day. One more day. One more day. One more day. One more day. One more day. One more day. One more day. One more day. One more day.
Once again ...
I HATE COMPANY.
Originally scheduled to show up at 1PM, but there dog was sick last night so delayed till 2:30PM, it is now 2:40PM and still a no show.
This is why ...
I HATE COMPANY,
and I want my simple bozerrific life back, where I don't depend on nobody, and nobody depends on me, and I hope the next time I say depends is about 30 years from now when I walk into the drugstore to do my weekly shopping.
I also found out just this week that as late as my putting up the current picture of Smilin' Bozzer, that my sister, my brother in-law, and two of my nephews and their wives were readers of my blog. They kept asking me if I still had my website, and I kept going, nahhhh, I could never think of anything to say so I just dropped it, and I think they believed me. I mean I can never think of anything to say, but that never stopped me from posting, did it, huh, did it.
The company showed up, but they were an hour and a half late, but he fixed the wheels on my lawn mower so I didn't press it.
In other news, my nephew who used to have a mullet, but is now mulletless installed my new 120 gig hard drive, and that's a heck of a lot of porn, so in payment I had to let him surf his college alumni sports site for what seemed like forever ...
So, I guess that's it for now.
Oh yeah, when he installed the new hard drive I lost all my cookies so I have to log in to all my membership sites, which is really a pain in the ass when you don't remember your passwords because you had always been signed in automatically, but since I only have one password, it really isn't that hard, but I guess I was looking for a little peace, love, and understanding, and I also guess if anyone were to ever find out what my password was, or is, I would be swimming in Lake HolyShit with out my swimming trunks.
Let's see. The company that was supposed to show up on Saturday, but didn't, is due within the hour. Any bets on if they stand me up again?
If I wasn't directly involved, I would pay to see what happened if they didn't show.
Details at eleven.
I'm getting my new hard drive installed tomorrow, unless an impending family crisis rips us asunder.
I'm cool with it, I was going to say I'm jiggy with it, but thought better of it, because I have enough trouble hopping without throwing hipping into the mix.
I think I'll go watch True Grit, because John Wayne may be my father.
And I just wish all this company would go home.
Ok, here's the deal. The group that stood us up on Saturday called and left a message on my answering machine that they were coming up tomorrow, I'm not sure if I am ready to forgive and forget, or even be civil, of course my lawn mower does need fixing, so that might grease the wheels a little bit.
Now if I can only keep from strangling my other nephew's wife, everything will be copacetic.
So that would make John Wayne cacoa's grandfather.
I came here to praise boz, not to ... Oh yeah, aren't there a few nay sayers out there who are supposed to sing my praises in their respective blogs. You know who you are, don't make me have to look it up in my archives.
Because I will !!!
Ok, I admit it.
Dun, dun, dun ...
I am cacoa's father.
Her mother and I have kept it a secret all these years. Even the man that cacoa calls father doesn't know or suspect the truth.
In the mid 70's I was in the dun, dun, dun ...
stationed in either the Mid East or Great Britain, I'm not sure which because after that assignment I was involved in some drug related mindaltering experiments.
Anyway, I met and had a brief but passionate fling with cacoa's mother, who we shall refer to as, dun, dun, dun ...
We knew our love was never meant to be, it was a forbidden love, a love that crossed religious barriers.
We knew it could never be, cacoa's mother a Muslim, and me a tree worshiper.
So after I toppled the government of a small but oil rich middle eastern country, if I remember right it was North Dakota, but geography was never my strong suit, I returned to the states.
I will never forget our last night together, the night cacoa was conceived and
[censored by CIA Directive 89-672.9]
So you see dear sweet cacoa that is why OUR LOVE can never be the kind of LOVE that you desire of me.
Let's just leave it at that, and let the perv's fill in all the kinky parts.
Oh yeah, say hi to your mom, but I bet she'll deny everything.
New Angel of the Month TBA ... tonight.
Because I am leaving, again, in just a few minutes, and I don't have time to go through all the bikini pics that eager contestants have sent me in hope of currying my favor.
But, I must say it will take more than bikini pics to curry my favor, not a lot more, but more, and I'm starting to ramble just a little bit. again, but that happens when you get old older, but I like to look at it as aging like a fine wine, you know the kind of wine I mean, the kind the doesn't come in a six pack, but ...
Later all you gators and gatorettes.
Sullivan, the rat bastard, has gotten me addicted to BlogShares, of course with my attention span being equal to that of a gnat, I'll probably be unaddicted by the end of the week.
Did I mention I used to be addicted to BlogShares. That was so last week, as you young folk are apt to say.
I bought some seat covers for my car today because my pasty white ass has caused the seat material to fray.
Alas, the covers didn't fit, or workout, or something, so I will be taking them back.
I am not suggesting that pasty white ass has a pasty white ass, I am just acknowledging her use of the phrase pasty white ass, because that's the kind of guy I am.
I've made numerous comments in the last two days on blogs using enetation, but none of them are showing up. This is either due to the fact that I am going blind because of excessive self-gratification, or enetation still sucks, or both.
So, if you have enetation, I have made some really world class comments on your blog when I wasn't busy self-gratifying myself.
Life is just an endless circle, isn't it.
Oh yeah, the Angel of the Month thing. If anyone is interested leave a comment and I'll see if I can garner enough enthusiasm to do the right thing and select a deserving winner, and my eyes are glazing over, and I'm getting really tired, and when I get tired I get cranky, and when I get cranky I say things that I later regret, and let me see if I can think of something to say right now that I will later regret ...
I'd like to have sex with each and everyone of you regardless of race or gender.
Yeah, I'll for sure regret that in the morning.
Goodnight all my precious little ducklings.
A lot of people on IM, but no one wants to talk to me.
I'd be a good chat buddy.
I'm witty and urbane.
I'm obtuse and verbose.
I am rubber and you are glue.
Please-e-e-e-e, somebody adopt me.
I'm house broken, and I don't shed, but I do chew the furniture, but only when left alone for long periods of time.