Tuesday, September 28, 2004

Who wants to make five bucks?

Is it still prostitution if all you’re paying the girl to do is make out with you?

Cause right now I’m lonely as hell and wishing this five-dollar bill in my pocket could change that.

Friday, September 24, 2004

Twenty three skidoo!

What’s with me and out-dated slang? I used the phrase “on the lam” in a conversation with a couple of friends yesterday and none of them had any idea what the hell I was talking about.

Do you?

Click here for a gander at the real definition.

Wednesday, September 22, 2004

Originally posted on ozzyboyonline.com.

I just got this in my inbox:

I know that some of you may not want to hear this, but I don’t think I’m going to renew. After much deliberation, I’ve made my final decision. I’m sorry to say it, but this is the end of ozzyboyonline.com.

The main reason for this decision is that ozzyboyonline.com just doesn’t do it for me anymore. I just don’t have time for it. I’ve moved on. Moved on to here.

I had you going there for awhile, didn’t I? A couple of months ago, I was bored and was checking some web registries when I noticed that the guy who used to own ozzyboy.com didn’t own it anymore. In fact, no one did.

So now I do.

If you didn’t already notice, not much has changed. With the exception of the exemption of “online” from the title and a nifty Titanium Powerbook on my lap, it’s all your standard ozzyboyonline stuff. I kind of liked vector me and was in the mood to keep him around for a bit longer.

I hope you enjoy the new place. And now it takes six less letters of typing to get here.

Saturday, September 18, 2004

Apparently, running is not a pleasant experience.

For quite some time I’ve known that whenever I go running, the repeated up and down motion tends to make my body burp up what I ate in the preceding hour. Given this knowledge, I have no idea why I thought it would be alright to eat a can of sardines yesterday right before my daily jog.

Belching up bits of fish into the back of your mouth is not a pleasant experience.

I started up running again earlier in the summer. Back then we were having freakishly cool weather, so I’d go running before noon, and things would be fine. Lately, though, the temperature has been a bit higher, which my stomach doesn’t seem to enjoy when I move my body in a continuous vigorous motion. It’s as if the intense heat turns whatever is in my stomach into ten-day old oysters. I have to stop a mile and a half down the road for fear of puking up my breakfast.

Vomiting up half-digested Crunch Berries onto 79th Street is not a pleasant experience.

To prevent any further heat-induced regurgitation, I decided to do sunset runs. I go out around seven-ish and enjoy a cool jog while I watch the sun disappear over I-55. With no big ball of light beating down on me, runs have been much cooler. Actually, a bit too cool. With the air blowing by me as I run and no sun to counteract the wind chill, my nipples get quite erect. Usually I have no problem with some nip action, but when I run, my shirt tends to rub up against them.

Letting your sensitively erect nipples repeatedly chafe up against thick cotton fabric is not a pleasant experience.

There really weren’t many options to counteract the nipple irritation. I could go shirtless, but I’m not sure many people would enjoy seeing a half-naked man running down their street. I could cut out nipple holes in my shirt, but that would be a bit too blatantly homosexual-looking. I couldn’t think of anything that would work until I remembered a picture from Maxim I saw a few years ago.

Let me tell you, nipple covers really do the trick. Now before a twilight jog, I slap on a pair of band-aids over the nips and head out for a run free of nipple soreness. Now the only problem is taking them off.

Ripping out your chest hair when pulling off band-aids is not a pleasant experience.

I’m just happy I dn’t have to band-aid my crotch before going for a run.

Wednesday, September 1, 2004

Pretend Girlfriends.

I love the first day of a new month when I get to flip the calendar to see Brooke Burke in a new scantily-clad pose. And this month she isn’t even clad at all.

It’s sad when the closest thing you have to a girl in your life only comes in a two-dimensional format.

I remember once when I had a crush on a girl online. It got so bad that I would put her picture up on my monitor and gently kiss the screen. I’d come back an hour or so later to find lip marks all over the glass and wipe it away with a towel hoping my roommate didn’t notice it before me.

Nowadays, I just make due with my full-length body pillow. I call it “Ally” and go to bed each night with it cuddled up in my arms. I don’t go as far as making out with it, though. But I have on occasion woken up to find myself gently humping it.

Anyways, I think I’m going to head off to bed. Ally’s getting lonely.

And apparently so am I.