Yeah, so, my pizzosts have been sparse, lately. I've been busy. You've been busy. Deal with it. To give you something to do when my delicious prose isn't lighting up your ho-hum days, I have conceived another list. Boston Magazine doesn't have one. Phantom Gourmet doesn't have one. Hell, even my good buddy, Naamua Delaney, doesn't have one. Some things may have been touched on before. Nonetheless, I give you:

hBoMb's "Friggin' Sucks" List:

Worst Friggin' Tv Show: American Juniors
Worst Friggin' Smell: human recombinant DNA soaking in 10% bleach
Worst Friggin' Bar in Boston: O'Malley's in Allston
Worst Friggin' Sneaker: McGregor
Worst Friggin' Juice: Cranberry
Worst Friggin' Hair: A Flock of Seagulls
Worst Friggin' Manure: Chicken
Worst Friggin' Club: The 3rd Rail in Central Square
Worst Friggin' Massachusetts's Town: Gill
Worst Friggin' pants: Zubaz
Worst Friggin' Grass: Crab
Worst Friggin' 'T' Line: The Orange Line
Worst Friggin' Singer: Celine Dion
Worst Friggin' Non-Toxic Plant to Whipe Your Ass With When Crapping in the Woods in New England: Fern
Worst Friggin' Name for a Restaurant in Boston: Pu Pu Hot Pot
Worst Sound: Screeching tires from behind
Worst Friggin' sunglasses: Oakley Blades

More Worst and a few Best to come....

STRESSSSSSssssssssss!!!!!

Might as well face it, Robert Palmer is dead. I guess when you're addicted love, you find heart attacks simply irresistable. Sorry. Long week. Hopefully I can return on Moday with my "A" game.

So, the Nashunul Bored of Ejukayshun relesed it's list of "Persistently Dangerous Schools" to the dismay of many parents and teachers. The list is not made public; however, I do know that Boston Public did not get considered. WHAT UP WIT DAT? There's like a stabbing, or a rape, or, like, some cheerleader getting her achilles cut, or that girl from American Idol is being threatened by her abusive boyfriend EV-ER-Y WEEK! Actually, every Monday night at 9 o'clock! I mean, c'mon, people! Jeri Ryan, Michael Rappaport and that angry, bald, black guy can't solve this problem alone!

The flu has finally released me from it's evil clutches. Bumpus promises to bring back Meggy-Tah's digital camera this week. I'm not getting my hopes up. The GREAT HAIR RACE is in full effect. It will be brought to you via my website. The question is not "if", it is "when." Now I must get to work. Talktoyalater.

Avast me mateys! It be Septembarrr 19th again and ye know what that means. YAR! It be Talk Like a Pirate Day! Walk the plank and shiver me timbers... The MPAA has given today an ARRRRRR rating.

I have officially had another Jon Bumpus internet sighting.... Further proving that his career in computers was defined at a young age. Also proving the Bumperpool's penchant for white hi-tops. Hopefully, at the end of the GREAT HAIR RACE, he will sport the stone-washed jeans and sneaks once again. I give to you the picture I like to call appleWYLDE!!! Front row, right, baby! Awwww Yeeeahhhh!!!

Things have been rather busy this week. That's why postings have been sparse. With the writing, and the working, and the scraping, and the priming, and the painting, and the glaven. Any free time that I have has been spent outside with a big fan. I am convinced that, if a butterfly's wings can alter the weather on the other side of the world, then a big fan should be able to alter it in, say, North Carolina. With this logic, I WILL knock Hurricane Isabel off course. Then all of you house-painting-nay-sayers will be eating crow. CROW, I TELL YOU!! CAW! CAW!

Have you gained a little weight lately? Is your beautiful hair starting to whiten? Is your beard beginning to decorate your life in a little salt-and-pepper? Do you know when to hold 'em/know when to fold 'em? Well, don't fret my white-haired, fat chum... You are not alone. Click on this and just drop in and find out what condition your condition is in...

The GREAT HAIR RACE website has been re-assigned. Friggin' Imagestation sucks ass. They won't allow people to view galleries without signing up for their website. I told them to peddle their crazy somewhere else. I chose Geocities to host my pictures. One, Geocities allows webdesign. Two, you can view it for free. Three, to show John Burt that I can hang with the "real webmasters". SUCK ON THIS LOO-TEN-TANT BURT!!

"Well, you wonder why I always dress in black,
Why you never see bright colors on my back,
And why does my appearance seem to have a somber tone.
Well, there's a reason for the things that I have on.

I wear the black for the poor and the beaten down,
Livin' in the hopeless, hungry side of town,
I wear it for the prisoner who has long paid for his crime,
But is there because he's a victim of the times.

I wear the black for those who never read,
Or listened to the words that Jesus said,
About the road to happiness through love and charity,
Why, you'd think He's talking straight to you and me.

Well, we're doin' mighty fine, I do suppose,
In our streak of lightnin' cars and fancy clothes,
But just so we're reminded of the ones who are held back,
Up front there ought 'a be a Man In Black.

I wear it for the sick and lonely old,
For the reckless ones whose bad trip left them cold,
I wear the black in mournin' for the lives that could have been,
Each week we lose a hundred fine young men.

And, I wear it for the thousands who have died,
Believen' that the Lord was on their side,
I wear it for another hundred thousand who have died,
Believen' that we all were on their side.

Well, there's things that never will be right I know,
And things need changin' everywhere you go,
But 'til we start to make a move to make a few things right,
You'll never see me wear a suit of white.

Ah, I'd love to wear a rainbow every day,
And tell the world that everything's OK,
But I'll try to carry off a little darkness on my back,
'Till things are brighter, I'm the Man In Black."

There will be no blogging today.

Don't worry, people. My father is well (as well as he can be). This must be a typo.


Here is where you will be able to find the photos for The GREAT HAIR RACE when I get around to posting them. It will take a few days before the site can be entered without a password. Give it time.

IT HAS BEGUN!!!! The GREAT HAIR RACE is underway... and it has claimed it's first victim... me. Last night was a friggin' mess. I waited patiently for Jonny Bumperpool to come home. 11:30 rolls around and I can hear the faint murmur of a TDi exhaust on a 1.8T. Knowing that he was only 24 miles away, i began my preparation. After a half-an-hour of coercion, Bump finally agreed to partake in that evening's scalping. The first snag was that he had left his digital camera at home. The second snag was my hair... in the razor... half-way done... no longer cutting. Bump exclaimed that I looked, "like a rabid animal" with my hair in tufts around my head. He was on the money with that analogy. I looked like someone dipped my head in tunafish and then threw a bobcat at me. It was 1:30am and I began my slow ascent upstairs to wake up bReal and beg her to help fix the mess that the boys made downstairs. Being so commited to the THE GREAT HAIR RACE, she came down and fixed my head. I then told Bump it was his turn and I don't think that he could find strong enough words for "no," because he just made this face of sheer terror. He later had a nightmare last night, which, I can only guess, involved my hair clippers. Needless to say, he is getting his head professionally shaved today, as well as picking up the digital camera. I am at work with 45 minutes of sleep and a bald head. So it goes. This is THE GREAT HAIR RACE!!

Crap. Another week of work. Things seem so downtrodden. There is no end in sight. Monday sucks. Wait a minute... What? What is that? A glimmer of light? A hint of hope? Oh my! It's...

THE GREAT HAIR RACE 2003

And it's in full eFfeKt! Starting this evening, Bumjo Wheeleo and I will be shaving the noggins down with the 'ole number 1. As of now, the Mullet Day is standing at March 12th, 2004. An image hosting server will be obtained to chronicle this Odyssey. More details to follow...

I was watching Aerosmith on the NFL Kickoff Extravaganza last night (don't ask) when something dawned on me. Lead guitarists love wind. I believe that they grow their hair long just so they can enjoy it more. They love standing in it with one leg up on something. Slash loves the wind. Joe Perry loves the wind. Keith Richards loves the wind. If I ever become a lead guitarist, I'm definitely going to constantly have someone walk in front of me with a fan. It think it helps you play better...

For your viewing pleasure... The 20 worst movie titles of all time. So what if I didn't write it. So what if I stole it off the FARK. I agree with it, dammit. And you do, too.

Apparently, I entered some sort of vortex because it only took me 35 minutes to get to work this morning. Either that or, in my absence for the past few days, all of the shitty Rt. 2 drivers finally killed each other off.

The Great Hair Race is postponed for a few days until Bump gets his act together. He just had a big move and he's very vulnerable right now. He's without the internet and "liking his hair the way it is." He has tried to convince me to shave my head to his length and we can start from there. To this is say, "HORSESHIT!!" The Great Hair Race needs commitment. The Great Hair Race doesn't comprimise. I shall layeth down the law. Fear not, true believers.