Baby Steps

Okay.

I have decided to attempt to refocus my energy on the Khronicles. Why the ill-fated comeback attempt you ask? It's because somebody took the time to come up with and call me by the pet name of "Krankelope." Which would be a close second to Krankiluphogus. I was also fond of Krankisaurus, and the endearing "Fuckknuckle." Although Krankisaures does sound like Kranki-sores, which makes me sound like I am an S.T.D.. Now while it is true that I am somewhat contagious and can certainly be irritating at times, I am not a sexually transmitted disease. I just wanted to go on record with that statement.

I have been in my top secret world of working as a _______ er, and it has been ruthlessly sucking the energy from my body and the funny marrow from my bones. It's been terribly difficult for me to switch between my PG job mindset and my NC-17 blogger mentality. You see, while some people are skilled at multi-tasking and can get many things done at the same time, I struggle with single-tasking. I occasionally find it difficult to drink soda and watch a movie at the same time. Yes, I am exaggerating, but not by much. I truly marvel at how my wife, Penny, and others can design a detailed blueprint, eat dinner, follow the plot to a complex movie and polish her toenails simultaneously. If I simply sip my Cherry Coke for too long I am likely to have no idea why that one guy in the movie just stabbed that other dude. It is a sad state of affairs, but it is my reality and I accept my handicap. Perhaps somebody wants to start a charity to raise money for the Multi-Task Impaired. I can picture Susan Sarandon doing some type of telethon and dragging me on to demonstrate how woefully inept I am at... (insert any ing verbs in the blank spaces) _________ and _________ at the same time.

Please send your suggestions for the verbs or verb phrases to me so that we can all titter at how funny you are... In a gay Mad-Libs sort of way.

A portion of all comedy proceeds will be donated to the M-T I foundation and to help my flacid and homeless ego.

Some suggestions just to help prime your pump*.

running, sleeping, belching, typing, humming, walking, chewing, swallowing, fucking, blinking, sunbathing, showering, thinking, talking, driving, urinating, sewing, butchering, insulting, governing, existing, throwing, cooking, monkey wrestling, berating, spelunking, vomiting, masturbating, uni-cycling, snorkeling etc...

* Yes, your suspicions are correct. The phrase "prime your pump" does strongly suggest that I am flirting with you.

I can't even think of a title for my blogs anymore

I find it as sweet and surprising as a hot fudge enema that there are still people coming to my blog to check for updates. I would have thought that my audience had completely dried up when my posts decreased in frequency from a few a day to a few this month. Also the comedy quality control person here at the Khronicles has obviously been fired as the humor level has actually flip-flopped into the negative so deeply that anything you read immediately following this blog will be made all the more entertaining and witty by comparison. I suppose that when I am once again financially destitute the comedy might return.

Why am I so spent. What the hell is happening to me? Where is the jaded, little mirth-maker who once inhabited my skin?

I feel like coming to this blog should qualify as an act of charity. What could be better than a blog that's both devoid of the funny and updated infrequently?

Blah , blah, blah, me, me, blah, blah...

My friend J is in Amsterdam at the moment. I wish I could claim that psychedelic mushrooms and a THC coma were impairing my ability to write anything remotely humorous but I don't even have that to fall back on. Without the drugs we aren't even human. Taking drugs in the only thing that separates man from the animals. Unless you're that person who likes to get their dog stoned. Loser.

I Pledge incompetence

I can't tell you too much about my new job without giving away vital secrets that could jeopardize our national security. But somebody told me "If you stop blogging then the terrorists have already won." I may not be the biggest chest-pounding flag waver, but I still love specific parts of The United States of America. We have good movies and good pie.

I had this dream last night where Penny and I had this friend with two strange and skinny dogs. Then (what seemed like) moments later, I was carrying a black frog down the street followed by "neighborhood kids" and the frog proceeded to pee all over me. Thankfully when I awoke I hadn't wet the bed. I wish Freud were still around to tell me what it all means. But at least I have you. You wanna spoon? It seems that whenever I have "the thing" before bed I have very bee-Czar dreams.

What is the last dream you remember. Extra points for random and clearly made-up celebrity sex scenarios tacked onto the end.

The Boud Has Left the Building

I just put the Boud Boy on a plane after a few fun-filled days of hosting him in sunny LA. I know that I did a fair job of it because he was rather reluctant to leave. I had to pull him kicking and screaming from the car. We saw a good number of freaks on Melrose and at Venice Beach. I have never posed for so many pictures in my life. I am a cartoon-character-lookin' rubber-faced, camera whore. Now that I've been spoiled by having my own personal photographer I fear that tongue-kissing my dog will be less exciting without the creepy exhibitionist appeal. I can still taste the memories.



Here we see Mr. Dan Boud bravely stepping into another world.



On Hollywood Boulevard at 1 AM it's quite normal to see a man wearing a head-to-toe, red, sequined outfit, complete with sparkly cape pushing a baby carriage.



I got Mad Skillz. I can kick it from the A to the R to the T-I-S-T

Word. Boud is now my stone-cold-solid Wigga on the Trigga.