Corner Booth

Baby, we had some good times. We were together for two years and I can't remember a single day when we didn't have fun together. You were a sight to see and couldn't have been more beautiful than when you were topless. That's why it hurts me so much to tell you that it's over. I think you may have gotten the idea today when I drove off with my new baby, leaving you there alone...if it helps, I watched you in the rear-view until you were out of sight. I'm gonna miss the long drives we would take together. You would keep me warm when it was cold, and cool when it was hot. As it turns out though, I guess I just needed more room in the back to stick my junk in. I think you'll understand, there wasn't even enough room for my friends inside you. You were good to me, baby...better than I been to myself, but, alas, it wasn't enough. Fare thee well, my ebony princess, I'll dream of your curves.
Much Love,
Bo

Much Love,
Bo

This is a picture of John Tunstall. You history buffs out there may already know that his death was what sparked the Lincoln County War in 1878 which led to Billy the Kid's notoriety. I always thought that I liked the story of Billy the Kid due to "Young Guns" and "Young Guns 2" (with help from Bon Jovi) which are greatly entertaining movies. Tonight I realized, after seeing a picture of John Tunstall for the first time, that I like the story because I WAS JOHN TUNSTALL in another life. I feel like this is a bad 80's sitcom and I'm looking at a picture of my grandfather when he was my age...freakin' erie.
Much love,
Bo (I think)

So I walk into a UDF on the West Side at midnight tonight (not recommended) wearing my scrubs and a hospital badge. I proceed to buy a 12 pack of Miller light, a frozen "Pizza for One," (sad), and a pack of smokes. The people in the "convenience" store look at me like I have three friggin' heads. As I drive away I realize, in general, if people on the West Side take the time to put down their crack pipes and point out to their friends that YOU are doing something fucked up...then there's a problem. I may need to reevaluate my life.
Much Love,
Bo

Ummm...how do I put this so that you don't leave me before we've met...ummm, hmmm, okay, how 'bout this...where the FUCK ARE YOU??? Okay, sorry 'bout that...Sunday Bo got ahold of the keyboard again. Anyway, I'm starting to get concerned. Per John Cusack, there are some people of a certain disposition that are afraid of dying alone at a very young age...John and I are of that disposition. Alright, alright...that may have been a little over the top, but all the same it would be nice if you showed up sometime soon. My first girlfriend was in the fourth grade (I was an early bloomer) and since then I've been waiting for you to show, what I'm sure is, your breath-taking face...but to no avail. You should be flattered to know that I have transposed all the traits that you possess on every girl I've ever dated (intelligence, beauty, wit, and culture), and later realized that they possess few to none of them. It's kinda sucked, and at times, has forced me to contemplate moving to Europe, becoming a priest, castrating myself while simultaneously having a lobotomy (so I don't remember the castration), and drinking myself to death on the best wine in the world (again you should feel flattered...or a little scared, I'm not sure). Poetically, I've been waiting for you my whole life...literally...I've been waiting for you for roughly a year and a half. After the last disaster of a relationship I was in I've stayed away from the female species like they're the fucking plague. That being said, I'm sure we've met or at least seen each other at a crowded bar through a fog of inebriation. If we haven't, you're hiding better than I thought. All in all I'm not a bad guy. I mean I have my downfalls, but I play guitar, write my own songs, and work every day with children who have mental and/or behavioral problems. How more precious could I be??? Alright I'm not that great, I smoke, drink (a lot), and am a Republican (which, as a nurse, all kinda make me a hypocrite...but nobody's perfect). All I'm asking is that you show up soon and blatantly announce yourself with a choir of angels, a heavenly light, and confetti streaming from the skies. That seems reasonable.
See you soon,
Much Love,
Bo

It's finally happened. After spending the better part of 6 years learning insanely stupid information that I will never EVER use in the real world I have passed a test that will now allow me to learn everything I really need to know while holding the lives of America's youth in my hands. That's right, I passed my nursing boards. Gaylord Focker in the flesh people. When I was walking out of the exam I was SURE that I had failed it and suddenly taking them in secret seemed like the most brilliant idea I had ever stolen from a friend of mine. Yesterday, though, I awoke to the message alert on my cell phone and listened as my boss congratulated me on passing. Almost...friggin'...lost it. I rushed to the computer to see for myself and sure enough the Ohio State Board of Nursing had granted me a license...fools. I must admit that I've checked the site quite a few times since then to see if they have realized their mistake and revoked it, but it seems that I really did pass. After getting kicked in the academic nuts for the past two years I guess I just expected to take another one to the coin purse, not this time though. Unfortunately, there are some set backs. For instance, if I'm out somewhere and someone gets hurt I'm obligated to try to help them until the EMS gets there. Can't just turn to the bar and get another beer while snickering about how hilarious "that guy's" fall was...se la vie.
Much Love,
Bo, BSN, RN

I've always thought it would be cool to have my very own sound track. Not like in "Family Guy" when Peter got his own from a Genie and the music was totally symphonic. I'm talking popular music, or at least music with lyrics. Driving in my car the other day I discovered what my "Crowd Stopping" song would be. You know the scene: A crowded bar full of suburbanite alcoholics completely enthralled in themselves and/or whatever other socialite they are respectively trying to "land." Suddenly the lights dim a little. Everyone's attention is inexplicably directed towards the base of the bar door, and the intro of Dave Matthews' "Louisiana Bayou," comes over intangible speakers. As the door opens, the acoustic guitar gives way to the beat of the drum and the sloppy bass line riff. My right foot enters just as the entire room goes into slow motion. Collective eyes move stealthily from my suede mud boots, up my pants, past my gasoline jacket and to the shades that hide the wisdom and pure sexiness that lies beneath them. I take a hit of my cigarette and slowly exhale the smoke without regard. Behind me is the full force of the "Nickel Package," in complete posse mode. We walk with purpose but without reason. In short, we're freakin' bad ass. Women want us and men want to be us.
THAT would be sweet. My advice is to listen to "Louisiana Bayou" while re-reading this blog...it'll really help you to visualize how sweet I would be if this all worked out.
Much Love,
Bo

So I've always considered myself as somewhat of a loner. Don't get me wrong, I love being a social butterfly as it were, but I deeply value my personal time. That being said, I've just moved into an apartment by myself and have found myself BORED as Hell every night. I had this vision in which living alone was all Poetry and Aeroplanes...but such is not the case. It's more like me watching countless hours of television and waiting for a call from my imaginary girlfriend. Alas, even she seems to have lost my phone number (isn't that just like Swedish Supermodel singer/songwriters?) I asked a friend of mine who has lived alone for a couple of years now how he coped with the solitude and after a while we discovered that living by yourself and being in a coma have uncanny similarities. You're alone with your thoughts a lot and the things that run through your head can be scarier than any given scene in the movie "Saw." Be afraid...be very afraid.
Much Love,
Bo