Boski's Blogopoluza!

Sorry everyone that I have even less to say these days. I am working hard on a very dangerous assignment, data entry. I am being held. . . er working in a basement at a hospital. I think they have me down here so if the hospital is destroyed I can work on data entry till help arrives.

Oh hold on, the canary just fell off the perch. Hmmm, I think that may be a bad sign. I should not complain, they are very nice, it's $15 an hour, and I have not been asked to a lecture on 16th century Flemish farming, yet. But being down in the missile silo sucks because being that time of the year when the days are the shortest. It sucks a lot of ass to see a little bit of sun when you get in and a little at lunch, but seeing none when you leave is just plain wrong. But it keeps me off the streets.

Congrats to my man Eric on his playoff run. Please tell me what its like to win at roto.

Also it looks like the Sox and Frank will be parting ways. Sad, but it is business. I do hope Frank hangs them up and does not try to play for anyone else. I do not want another Jerry Rice/Seahawks, M.J./Wizards, Broadway Joe/Rams and the Say Hey Kid/Mets.

Holiday Pet Peeve Alert- Mr. President don't you have more pressing matters than hamming it up for a moronic Holiday Video. That F'ing Christmas Video that the White House releases is just so morbidly retarded. Those stupid Scotties running around. Hell, it looks like they are trying to do something. Could we at least get them to look Bin Laden? Another reason why I miss Clinton. His dog, Buddy, a lab. Now there is a dog. Come on Mrs. Beazley, seriously, you had to spell it with a Z. This alone should get the "No Child Left Behind" overturned. But the only thing positive to say about it is when they show W, talking to the dogs you can the sense that he feels comfortable talking to the dogs, since they are both on the same wave length, even though one still drinks from the toilet. My guess its the one wearing the suit.

Well back to data entry. I putting data into a computer called WOPR. Oh it is asking me if I want to play a game. Well sure, that sounds fun. What could happen. . .