In training for the Bozzer Games

We are in serious training for the party games to commence upon your return. Bring whiskey. Possibly tequila.

Betcha no one in Toronto plays bite-the-bag or saw-a-log. Psssh. Party-time amateurs.

All I want for Christmas is my Bozzer back!

"Dismal."

That's a direct quote from JP regarding this years Christmas parade. (She misses you.)

"This town has no Christmas spirit!"

Well now. I have spirit - I can be creative. Karen is my new roommate and, in the face of the fact that she thinks Christmas trees are cheesy, I decided to improvise. Sassy is still undecided.

Generally, every year when asked what I want for Christmas I reply, "a pony!" But this year I just want my Bozzer back. Karen wants her Bozzer back. Sassy wants her Bozzer back.

On that note, I ran into S the other day - hadn't seen her since the Elks - she misses you too. In fact she said she would love for you to come back and stuff her stocking.

Randomness

So I hear you Bozzer, holed up with an old school chum of mine in the big, wild city of TDot.

Tell her I said hi, and to SEND YOU BACK NORTH PROMPTLY.

A very special message from Marv Albert

It's a little known fact that Marv Albert and I are close friends, dating back to my stormy and short-lived stint as a sideline reporter for YES, which broadcasts New Jersey Nets basketball games. (I'll tell that story in detail someday, but suffice to say Richard Jefferson cannot take a joke.)

Marv and I still keep in touch, and when he got wind of Draft Mike Bozzer, he gave me a call. During office hours. I've told him before I don't keep pro sports broadcast hours anymore, but hey, that's Marv. What a card!

*Beeeeeep*

Hi Bob, legendary sports broadcaster Marv Albert here. Heard your friend Mike is leaving town, and thought I'd call to cheer you up. I've got a funny story about an incident at the Cheesecake Factory in Newark last week. Basically Fratello was chatting up a waitress and....actually, I'd better not tell this story on an answering machine. Call me!

*Beeeeeep*

Well, there's not much there for you Mike. Marv's always had a short attention span, and yes, he always refers to himself as "legendary sports broadcaster Marv Albert" on the telephone. But I'll put you guys in touch next time the Knicks or Nets are in Toronto. You're welcome!

Final stage of grief

Fundraiser ideas for the Welcome Back Mike Party

---INTERNAL MEMO---

Nov. 15, 2008

Re: Welcome Back Mike party/fundraising

Alright team, good job sending me fundraising ideas for Mike's Welcome Back party. This is very important work we're doing, and the more money we raise, the better the party, and the quicker Bozzer returns.

So, here we go, in no particular order, three from each contributing member:

The bigger the sausage - not always the better. The spicier the better. What about a sausage party for Mike?

A basketball tournament for smokers.

All the bootlegging busts in town have likely left a vacuum. I say we strike now, carve out a niche for ourselves in the underground industry, and funnel those funds into important social programs like the Mike Bozzer Welcome Back Fund. We can call it Bootlegging for Bozzer.

Gold chains are not worn by Italian men as a fashion statement or as a token of solid gold dancers, but as a shave line. What about a back waxing fundraiser?

Auctioning off five minutes in the coat check room with Bozzer.

Not all Italians sport wife-beaters. That is apparently a myth spawned by the Godfather movies. However, they are incredibly practical. Let's buy a bunch and screen print “draft Mike Bozzer” on them and sell them to all of the basketball teams.

Drug dealing.

Let's import some strippers and rent the Franco for a night. Proceeds from the show/bar will go to the Mike Bozzer Return fund.

Sell Chris Windeyer to the strippers as a sex slave/housekeeper.

So team, lots of stuff to mull over in the coming months. I'll update you with an implementation plan in the near future. And keep your noggins chuggin'!

Bozzer's grandma knew the truth!!!

Bozzer once told me a story.

Well, I think he told a handful of us a story once.

Bozzer once loved a cat.

'Can't remember the name of the cat right now, but I know it was his and as a possessive implied that this love upholds....

He grew to know this cat, its nuances, its subtleties, the things that made it so.

He grew to love its black fur and red pupils. He loved how it would spoon against him at night and rumble it's pleasure.

Alas, as all loves. This soon too would perish.

At the thought of this, I am sure Mike's eyes grow red.

An acute reaction.

That's what the doctor said.

You can't have her anymore.

Mike was numb in disbelief.

But the doctor had spoken.

No Pussy for Mike

Severely allergic he was.

Impotently, aesmateticly alergic.

Desperate, he asked his grandmother to give her sanctuary.

So she did, and 'Awaits perdition!

Mike!

"You love the booze" she cries.

"You love the parties!" she cries.

"Why don't you love the pussy?" she states, flatly, eyes looking directly, challengingly.

"Grandma" he replies. "Don't you understand my particular itch?"

Tell us Mike...

What is your particular itch?

Why are you afraid of the pussy? - to quote your grandma....

All men itch.

All men scratch.

Here is as good as the next scratchin' post.

Scardy Cat!

Pussy!!!