In Memoriam

This is the day set aside to remember those valiant men and women, who have paid the highest price to protect our freedom. I am thankful for the liberties that these brave warriors fought for so bravely. Happy Memorial Day.

Crazee Tastee Chicken

I am somewhat of an addict when it comes to barbecuing. Every weekend, you can find me out in my backyard with either my smoker or my grill fired up and a cold one in my hand. I haven't done a cooking post in awhile so I thought that I would share a method of cooking chicken that can't be beat.

I use my smoker but if you don't have a smoker any indirect cooking method on a grill will work. Here in West Texas, mesquite wood is yours for the picking. Drive down any dirt road and mesquite wood is just lieing there in the bar ditch. But if you aren't so lucky then charcoal on a Weber style grill with a roasting pan in the middle works fairly well.

First take a whole chicken and pull out all the innards that come packed in wax paper and shoved up the chickens ass and set them aside. Take a dry rub and sprinkle it on and pat it in. I use Stubb's because I am basically lazy and I love Stubb's barbecue but if I am out of Stubb's, I mix up black and red pepper, seasoning salt, garlic powder, paprika, cumin, and anything else that I can find in the spice rack that looks appealing.

Next drink about a quarter of a can of beer, then insert the can up the chickens wazoo. Perch the beer can chicken on your grill. And sit back and relax. You don't have to worry about flare ups. Just keep the fire going and the beer steaming up into the chicken assures that the chicken will not dry out.

Next for a tasty snack while waiting for the chicken to get done. Take a cast iron skillet and pour in about half a can of beer, a big dab of butter, the chicken innards, and salt and pepper to taste. It will be done quicker than the chicken and is good slathered over a chunk of bread.

Happy Mother's Day '08

Happy Mother's Day To All.

Shots

AJ saw a friend yesterday at the grocery store. Her friend is usually one of those women that dress at the height of fashion, with make up on, and hair just so, even when out only going grocery shopping. On this occasion however AJ's friend looked like she had been run through a ringer. She wore no make up and her hair was disheveled even worse than Ryan Seacrest.

AJ asked her what was up. The friend stated that about a week ago, her two year old's puppy had been hit by a car. Although the pup had not died, it was in very bad shape and had to be euthanized. The friend had explained to her child that the puppy would have to go to the animal doctor. There the veterinarian would give the puppy a shot. After that the puppy would go to heaven and have bunny rabbits to chase and would be able to run and play again just like before the car accident.

AJ still wondered why her friend looked like hell on this particular day so she asked her friend what she had been doing today. Her friend then told her that today was the day that she took her two year old in for her vaccination shots.

It must have been hell trying to convince the child that she wouldn't be chasing bunnies in heaven after a vaccination. I don't know but her friend should have thought about that trip a little in advance.

Cleavage For Christ

AJ, the boy, and myself went to the city today to do a little shopping. We stopped and ate lunch at CiCi's Pizza. It isn't my favorite place in the world to eat but it has pretty good pizza, it's all you can eat, and it's cheap. All parents of pre-teen boys can understand the virtues of these three elements. We showed up around 1:00 pm and arrived after one round of After-Church eaters and before the next round.

We made our way through the buffet line and easily found a clean table, as the busboys were hastily cleaning the many recently vacated seats. Just as we started to eat, in walked the next round of After-Church eaters. It seemed that there was no end to the line of people walking in. One other thing caught my attention. The group was mostly women. And the great majority of them were very well endowed and wearing low cut dresses that showed off cleavage for days. Now I have never given thought of joining any cult but this group of large breasted women could very well make a believer out of me.

As they came off the line, they started pushing the small tables together. In short order they had surrounded us. Cleavage to the left of me, cleavage to the right, cleavage in front, and cleavage behind. We finished up our lunch and headed out on our merry way before being totally engulfed in breasts. (AJ seemed to be in a bit of a hurry.)

I can't help but keep thinking on a religion based on 'Cleavage for Christ.' The way that they showed such togetherness by pushing their tables together and breaking bread with one another. They seemed so inseparable that even a Cross Your Heart Bra could not keep them apart. It's enough to melt even the heart of a hardened cynic. Yes amazing breasts how sweet the sight that saved a wretch like me.

That's What Friends Are For

Not being a big C&W fan for the most part, I generally don't watch CMT but as not a damn thing is on television Friday nights, I found myself watching, 'Can You Duet'. Tonight was the audition stage and since it is basically a reformatted country duo version of American Idol it used the same formula. Every once in a while a decent act followed by a dozen no talent bums. One duo got my attention though.

A couple of the contestants stated to the host before they went on that they were a group and there was no way that they would split up if the judges picked one but not the other. Sure enough it happened. The judges liked one of the girls but not the other. When asked if she would like to go on without her partner, the girl needed a few moments to think it over. They walked out into the hallway and the chosen girl cried and said she wouldn't do it. The passed over girl gave her a hug and said nothing.

What kind of friend is that? Friends don't hold friends back. She should have offered her congratulations, wished her friend luck, and told her that she would take care of her friends pets, plants, etc. and then if she needed to get even she could always bang her friends boyfriend. After all that's what friends are for.

On a side note, the chosen girl eventually told the judges that she would go on, the friends hugged and all was well.

Fat Chicks Can't Jump

There is an ignorant redneck fuck driving around town in a jacked up pickup truck. All across his rear glass is a mural that reads, 'Lift It - Fat Chicks Can't Jump.'

I hate to tell this dumbass but while it might be true that Fat Chicks Can't Jump, it is equally true that a mob of large pissed off women can jerk him out of his truck and beat the living hell out of him.

A Lounge Around Post

For a long time, I resisted lounge pants. In the summer, I wear shorts around the house and during winter, I wore my Wranglers both at the house and out and about. AJ had tried to get me to buy some lounge pants seemingly forever, but I refused. I never saw lounge pants as the manliest of garbs. I am not saying that I thought that a wearer of lounge pants was gay or anything, it just didn't seem right. Soft cotton on men seemed suited for t-shirts and drawers but I was always about some tough ass denim to protect me from the hazards of the world.

But a couple of years ago, AJ got tricksy. She bought me a pair of lounge pants for Christmas, but she didn't give them to me as a gift. No she was much tricksier than that. She had my young son give them to me as a Christmas gift. That way when I opened the gift in front of his bright smiling hopeful face, I was forced to say thank you and beam with dumb-eyed gratitude when he asked if I liked them. I was even forced to wear them.

And you know what, Damn them things were comfortable. And AJ had even bought a manlier pair than most that I had seen. They had tribal designs and skulls all over them. For the past two years, I have worn the everlovin' shit out of my lounge pants. I have never bought another pair but by god I wear these sumbitches all the time around the house. (I still would never be seen in public in the damn things.)

I leave em crumbled up beside my side of the bed when I'm not wearing them until AJ finally gets sick of it and hauls it to the laundry room. Hell, I just wear them around the house. How could they get dirty after one to two dozen wearings? But now my lounge pants have seen better days. And I know that no matter how many times that I tell AJ that they are fine and they are just now getting to their optimal comfort level, soon I will come home and find them missing. Like a favorite pair of holey underwear, or a well in broke barbecue-stained tee-shirt.

Yes soon I must shop for some more lounge pants. Maybe this time I won't get a pair with skulls but I do need a pair that is manly as lounge pants can get. Perhaps with large breasted naked women. Hell I'm just wearing them around the house. It could get me two fold entertainment value, in the first place it will make AJ even angrier and two if the Jehovah's Witness Man shows up at my door, I will give him something to pray about.

I'm Back

I suppose it is strange but I couldn't stop hanging around this place and with every comment that I read, I felt like sticking up a post. I found in the short time that I was gone (compared to the long time that I was gone), that there are some things that I just can't say anywhere else. This was my first home in blogging. It is where I first found my voice to spew my nonsense at the world, and I can't post the pin-ups that I love so much at my other joint. So Fuzz is back. I have missed him.

Damn, I sound blogpolar. I really need to work on this multiple blog personality thing.

Buh-Bye

I am killing off Fuzz. I have been blogging as :P Fuzzbox since July 17, 2005. It has been a blast and I truly appreciate every single reader who has ever came here. I have seen bloggers come and I have seen bloggers go and it always saddens me when a good blogfriend leaves. For a long time, I have had a multiple blogger personality. For these, I have had different blogs. At one time, I wrote for five different blogs on a regular basis. Maybe that is why I burned out and took a hiatus for three months.

I started one of my blogs after my brother, Big D, told me that Blugstuff had become fluff and that it had lost it's edge. After really looking at it through his perspective, I had to admit that he had a good point. I had become a blogwhore; worrying too much about what people would think rather than what I wanted to say. Although I could admit that I was a blogwhore, I was not prepared to stop being one here. At that time, I started another blog that was filled with venom, it was irreverent, dirty, and took no prisoners.

Since coming back from hiatus, it has become increasingly hard to find my voice here. But my voice on my other site, has grown exponentially. Therefore I am taking my act on the road, packing up my keyboard, and setting up shop at the other site. For those of you who do not know or haven't guessed my other site and want to keep on blogging with me, drop me an e-mail. I have to warn you that I am not so warm and fuzzy over there. Sure in the comment section, you will find that I am still the same old person that I always have been but the posts. Take my foulest most venom filled posts here and multiply it by ten and there you have at.

Until next time Blogosphere, Good Night, This is :P Fuzzbox signing out.

It's The Real Thing

Yesterday, I had my weekly indulgence of a real Coke. No I am not talking about Coca Cola Classic over Diet Coke, I am talking about a real honest to goodness Coke. I have always heard the rumor that the New Coke bullshit idea was just an attempt to pull the wool over peoples eyes thinking that the real Coca Cola was back. When the switch happened Coke was made with pure cane sugar. After the New Coke crap was shit canned, Coca Cola Classic came back sweetened with high fructose corn syrup. Like a lot of folks, I dropped my Pepsi can and came back to the close to real thing. But now I have found that Real Coke is still around. It's just a little harder to find and comes straight out of Mexico.

Pop the top on the 12 ounce glass bottle, and let the frost filter up the bottle and it is a trip back to the coke days of yesteryear. When a real Coke was the real thing. In all it's sugar rushed glory.

Pick Me The Winner

Like every sports nut, I do up my brackets every March for March Madness. And just like most sports nuts, every year my picks suck swamp water. This year, Phat's invited me to join his bracket contest. This time around something miraculous happened. No I sucked just as bad as most years, but luckily I sucked the least in the West bracket. So far I have only correctly picked 5 out of 8 but so far UCLA is still in it to win it.

So thanks Phat's for letting me play. In case anyone wants to know. My picks for the final four are still in it to win it. So I will predict out the final four. In the East, I don't see anyone knocking off North Carolina. In the Midwest, it's a toss up between Kansas and Georgetown. They both look damned good but I have to give Georgetown the edge. In the South, I have to go with Stanford although I will be rooting for Texas. In the West, UCLA just keeps on finding ways to win.

In the final four, I think North Carolina and UCLA will come out on top. And in a barn burner, UCLA will find a way to come out with a way to win the big dance.

For those not interested in basketball brackets I have stolen and listed a few reasons why basketball is possibly better than sex.

1. There is always a coach that can tell you the best time to take it to the hole.
2. You know you are done when the horn sounds
3. Being double teamed is common.
4. You always try to score in 24 seconds.
5. There's always someone with a towel to come up and wipe up the wet spots.

Jokes stolen here.

Mr. Clean

Here's a little tale of a man named John

A sexy motherscratcher with an apron on.

He dusted and polished and mopped up the floor

He washed the dishes did the wash and a whole lot more.

When asked why he did all these housekeeping chores,

His reply was simply, 'He shoots and he scores.

When the little woman sees what I've done all the day,

Then at night is when it's my turn to play.

When I give it all that I have

She even will dress as a schoolgirl gone bad.

For my inspiration, click here.

Now It's Really 'Ladies' Night

Leave it to the Russians. Now they have created a vodka just for the ladies. It comes in lime, vanilla, almond, and straight up for cocktails. If ever they decide to go for the American market, they will have a tough time choosing a spokeswoman. Who to pick? There are just too many choices. I am sure that Paris, Lindsey, Britney, Tara, or any number of young drunken celebrities would work wonders for the new vodka brand. I would just advise the company not to use their mug shots for advertising.

And while the 'Ladies' brand is upscale perhaps they can market a cheaper brand. I think that 'Drunken Slut' pure grain alcohol would be a top seller.

For the Yahoo News story, click here.

The Burning Question in Politics Today

With all the hullabaloo over sex and politics regarding the Crime busting governor of New York, I have only one question. Is she to be referred to as Spitzer's Spitter or Spitzer's swallower? Because if the taxpayers money was spent on a high class ho, I really hope she swallowed. It pisses me off when taxpayer money is wasted.

Oatmeal's Just Not Worth It

I caught a tip on The Food Network for oatmeal lovers on the go. Alton Brown showed how to make a good batch of oatmeal while staying in a hotel. He explained how the complimentary coffee pot in hotel rooms made for a perfect oatmeal cooking contraption. First dump your instant oatmeal packet in the coffee pot along with a packet of honey and a tub of jelly. then stick an herbal tea bag in the basket, add water, and crank it up.

First, I am thinking, 'You lazy fuck. Put on some damn pants and head downstairs for the complimentary Continental Breakfast. Eat some fucking doughnuts or if you have to be a health nut, eat a bowl of Cheerio's and shut the fuck up' Next, I am thinking that if you fucked up the coffeepot by making some damned oatmeal, you are going to piss the maid off in a bad way.

I can picture her going to clean up the room and spotting the crusted up oatmeal pot. 'Damn that sum beech, I have to clean up his spunked on Kleenex and now he leaves me thees shit. I will gut that pindaho like a feesh.'

The front manager would then have to go talk to Alton and inform him that he should leave the hotel immediately. They have let Consuela off for the rest of the day but if she returns things could get hairy.

I wouldn't blame them for kicking him out. Anyone who would rather screw up a coffeepot, than eat a free doughnut deserves to sleep in his car.

When The Past Bites You In The Ass

Sometimes I wonder if my life would make for a strange Cinemax soft core porn movie. Today I found out that a woman that I talk to on the telephone on a regular basis at work, I have known in the past. Actually we had what might be construed as a relationship, if only a mostly meaningless purely sexual relationship.

It's not that strange that I did not recognize her on the phone. After all it was some twenty years ago, she now goes by her married name and I knew her before she got married. I only had her voice to go by and there isn't much call for moaning on a business call unless the business is a phone sex line.

Leave Me In The Freakin' Dark

While flipping through the channels, I came across a movie that I will never watch. I don't know what it is about and I do not wish to know. The title is so good that the movie could never live up to the title. I made that mistake with the television program, 'Wife Swap.' Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. No, I will keep the movie, 'Hot Fuzz', just playing in my head, blissfully in the dark as to the actual movie.

The Moment Of Truth

I have been watching that freak show of a reality tv/game show, 'The Moment Of Truth.' Word to the wise to the contestants on this show, the moment of truth was when your dumb ass decided to appear on the show.

Anyone who would willingly subject themselves to a lie detector test and then sit in front of their boss, spouse, friends, family, a live studio audience, and the viewing public and answer questions about their fidelity, honesty, and work ethic is a blithering idiot. No matter how angelic a person thinks they are, I can guarenfuckintee that there is a question that could be asked that if answered truthfully will get your ass fired, divorced, kicked out of the will, or get your ass whupped.

If I ever decide that I need a good flogging I will either buy Angry Joyce a whip or buy a hooker specializing in bondage and discipline, I can without a single doubt state that you will never catch me on 'The Moment of Truth.'

Top Ten Things To Do On The Computer During Blog Hiatus

10. Spider Solitaire

9. Texas Hold 'Em Poker

8. Weather Forecasts

7. Post snide remarks on American Idol fan sites.

6. Voting for Maxim's Hometown Hotties.

5. Checking actual news sites.

4. Checking for new recipes.

3. Did I already say Spider Solitaire?

2. Classifying MP3's by amount of chest hair and breast size.

1. Porno Baby Hardcore Free Porno.

A Sleepy Little Post

I love the way tv ads quietly slip in side effect information. On the Ambian CR ad, they nonchalantly tell of the side effect of possible amnesia. I have heard of sleeping like a rock but this shit is ridiculous. I can just picture waking up after a good Ambian induced sleep, turning over to my wife, and saying, ' Excuse me ma'am, I really don't know where I am or who you are, but could you please answer a simple question? Where the fuck is the bathroom?'