a list of memorable songs from the weekend:
Green and Grey
Lighthouse Tale
Promise
Out of the Woods
Narcolepsy
Amanda's Dream

any and all comments or responses are welcome at boofydb@yahoo.com

ok....so there are some things that piss me off right now.

First of all. Stop calling LaDainian Tomlinson "LT". Seriously. There will only be one LT and that is Lawrence Taylor, one of the NFL's best defensive players of all time. One of the most intimidating players, to say the least. I am not as passionate about this as some, but it doesnt sound right or sit right with me. Lawrence Taylor will always be in my mind, and should be in anyone else's mind that knows anything about football, the one, true LT. THE LT. Tomlinson just happens to have those initials. So ESPN, suck it up. Say his full name. Don't abbreviate and disrespect one of the NFL's greatest linebackers.

Moving on.

I am sick of these stupid Bud Light beer commercials. Ugh. The main problem with them is that they are trying to get people to think smarter about what they do with their beer. how they drink it, how they store it, how they pour it. IT IS BUD LIGHT!!!! for the love. i swear. there is no taste or aroma to release by "pouring down the middle." It is Bud Light! And that in itself is bad advice that can be misapplied very easily. Sure. Pour your Bud Light down the middle. See if i care. It is CRAP BEER. but you do not pour my Guinness, Bodingtons, Stella, Kilkenny, Heineken, or even Yuengling down the middle! You will create a huge foamy head that will take ten minutes to settle, keeping me from the delicious beer that i want to consume. You will also interfere with the mixing and layering of the flavor of the full-bodied beer (this is the key, Bud Light is nowhere close to full-bodied....or even good). Why do you think it is so amazing to watch the Guinness and Bodingtons settle and mix as the creamy richness mixes perfectly? There is a perfect pour, and if you want to know how to do it, dont listen to freaking Bud Light marketing executives. If any pub owner in Ireland (or anywhere else in Europe for that matter) knew that this horrible advice was being distributed to the masses in America, they would revolt and stop sending their much-superior beer to our country until we can show it more respect. "THE POUR" is something that is learned through much training, and when perfected, it is something to be proud of. This comes from the makers and servers of Guinness. Yeah. Hear of it before? Real beer...since 1759. Yeah I think they know what they are talking about. And bartenders that know about THE POUR and do it well, have yet to disappoint me.

A summary of the perfect pour, from an admittedly novice admirer:
Maintain a serving temperature of 55 degrees F (or for extra cold Guinness, some prefer 40 degrees F), hold the glass at a 45 degree angle, allow the draught to pour down the side of the glass. Fill to 3/4 full and let it settle. Finish by pushing the handle away, not pulling towards, and topping off the pint. A thick, creamy head should be left on top, which will remain until the pint is finished.

That is how beer is to be pour. Not freaking Bud Light, poured out of a can, into a Solo cup for beer pong. Dont make a fool of yourself and make a spectacle of your own ignorance by telling me to pour any beer down the center. The fake Confucian monk means nothing and knows nothing about beer. Ugh, and for God's sake, it is Bud Light, for the last time.

Similarly, but much more briefly, thank you for telling me how to store my beer. Apparently, Americans are such idiots that they thought they could store beer (once again this is Bud Light, but I am not even going there again) in heat and sunlight and suffer no effect on the taste? What must the rest of the world be thinking? They are just sitting there shaking their heads and saying, how are they the most powerful nation in the world? A nation of idiots. Don't know how to make beer or store it or pour it or consume it properly. Sickening.

And finally. Rain. Rain pisses me off. It sucks. Totally necessary at times and all that, yes i know. But after an absolutely beautiful weekend in Colorado, to come back to the burg and have it rain all day.....ugh. not what i wanted. very sad and depressing.

ok. enough tirades for right now.

any and all comments or responses are welcome at boofydb@yahoo.com

Welcome to The College, Sandra Day O'Connor. We are honored to have you.

any and all comments or responses are welcome at boofydb@yahoo.com

I like monkeys.

The pet store was selling them for 5¢ a piece.

I thought that odd since they were normally a couple thousand each.

I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I bought 200.

I like monkeys.


I took my 200 monkeys home.

I have a big car.

I let one drive. His name was Sigmund. He was retarded.

In fact, none of them were really bright.

They kept punching themselves in their genitals. I laughed. Then they punched my genitals.

I stopped laughing.


I herded them into my room.

They didn't adapt very well to their new environment.

They would screech, hurl themselves off of the couch at high speeds and slam into the wall.

Although humorous at first, the spectacle lost its novelty halfway into its third hour.

Two hours later I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive: they all died.

No apparent reason. They all just sorta' dropped dead. Kinda' like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later.

Damn cheap monkeys.


I didn't know what to do. There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my room, on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase.

It looked like I had 200 throw rugs.


I tried to flush one down the toilet.

It didn't work. It got stuck.

Then I had one dead, wet monkey and 199 dead, dry monkeys.


I tried pretending that they were just stuffed animals.

That worked for a while, that is until they began to decompose.

It started to smell real bad.


I had to pee but there was a dead monkey in the toilet and I didn't want to call the plumber.

I was embarrassed.


I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them.

Unfortunately there was only enough room for two monkeys at a time so I had to change them every 30 seconds.

I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so it didn't all go bad.


I tried burning them. Little did I know my bed was flammable.

I had to extinguish the fire.


Then I had one dead, wet monkey in my toilet, two dead, frozen monkeys in my freezer, and 197 dead, charred monkeys in a pile on my bed. The odor wasn't improving.

I became agitated at my inability to dispose of my monkeys and to use the bathroom.

I severely beat one of my monkeys.

I felt better.


I tried throwing them way but the garbage man said that the city wasn't allowed to dispose of charred primates.

I told him that I had a wet one. He couldn't take that one either.

I didn't bother asking about the frozen ones.


I finally arrived at a solution.

I gave them out as Christmas gifts.

My friends didn't know quite what to say.

They pretended that they like them but I could tell they were lying.

Ingrates.


So I punched them in the genitals.

I like monkeys

any and all comments or responses are welcome at boofydb@yahoo.com

i would like to point out that these days it takes a lot to make me laugh out loud. especially stuff on the internet because it all kinda sounds the same. but this slays me. i was at work and i had to think about multiple kittens dying and bleeding all over a perfectly good steak in order to focus on something sad enough to keep myself from laughing. i knew that would be trouble if i did. so here it is. the whole site is funny....but this one, the commentary is hilarious.

and yes, it is about the infamous Camel-Toe


Par Four Toe
Toe Factor: 8 (with a 2 handicap for the far right one)
Seen: Pebble, Nantucket Golf, Winged Foot, Pinehurst

We were told that this photo was taken at a charity golf tournament. Where does one find courses with trashy women such as these? Portland, Oregon? The one on the left is sassy, and exudes confidence that she could make you beg for mercy. The 2nd from the left has a nice toe. But something tells me she has used her company's mental health plan more than they had hoped. The guy has that " I am going to regret this picture" look. The red bikini woman is a poor man's Phoebe Cates. But that is OK. The woman on the far right is a broomstick short of being burned in Salem, Mass. She looks like she just finished her first pack of Newport Lights, and is ready to reload. These women should enjoy what little remains of their misspent youths. Cause ten years from now, the only lasting vestige of those years will be the tattoos and the nicotine addiction. Wow. That sounded harsh, even for me.




any and all comments or responses are welcome at boofydb@yahoo.com