tony + mary!
busblog at gmail dot com

nothing in here is true


   Saturday, September 21, 2002  
hi. im about to fly away to a sandy oasis.

i finally put up a new interview. this is one of a canadian girl. she was pretty cool. maybe we will chat again.

im watching the angels make a spectacular comeback.

chris is coming to pick me up and take me away.

my mom is now saying that i cannot use any computers on the road.

lefty tony seems to think that he can update this while im gone, but im not so sure. so if this is all you see then so be it.

the skinny girl might want your attention. shes doing better. so that makes me happy.

thanks to all the people who stoked me by flowing the bus blog last month. thanks to my brother in law for the first class upgrades.

no thanks to best buy who didnt fix my camera on time.

i guess i'll just have to write long hand and read trashy novels and relax and drink and sleep and eat.

i will come back, but dont call it a comeback.


hollywood is a town just like yours.

im sure theres a kid in your town who likes to try to be weird, and might be in a pretty great band and is doesnt suck at art and has some hot girlfriends. thats not all that suprising.

our freaky boy is marilyn manson who lives on the same block as karisa in hollywood. his band is pretty damn great, his girlfriend is a nude model, and his new art show titled "The Golden Age of Grotesque" went on display yesterday at the Los Angeles Contemporary Exhibitions, 6522 Hollywood Boulevard, admission is free.

they recommend a donation of three dollars, but i recommend they up it to $6.66. call it art!

marilyn manson is one of my favorite people in the world.

some people say that he's just a poseur, that it's all a big act. when i saw him he elevated from below the stage tied to a flaming upside down crucifix and he later ripped pages out of the bible and threw them to the crowd.

kidding or not, the boy's going to hell and he's not doing it quietly.

if i make it to heaven, i would like to be on the st. peter's advisory committe, the board that helps influence the grace of God.

i would argue in favor of marilyn manson's ascension to heaven. i would argue that of that crowd of 18,000 at the forum that night, he would be in the small minority who had even held a bible that month. and by challenging the symbols of Christianity, he is helping to validate it as something, indeed, powerful and interesting. worthy of attention.

marilyn manson sleeps with some of the hottest women in the wold and he's singing about jesus? doesnt the bible teach against the distractions of the flesh?

isnt that what he's symbolizing when he slashes at his stomach and chest, all iggy-like?

perhaps marilyn manson was simply the embodiement of the devil's advocate.

or you know what, angels, maybe he was just a goth kid who had a little style. he was given some money to really go for it, and a band who could seriously rock.

even when he twisted his ankle that night at the forum due to his high heels, and the show was prematurely canceled, and a riot nearly broke out, marilyn manson has never disappointed me.

the 25 minutes he did onstage was theatric, heavy, agressive, and slick. he kicked monster magnet's ass, which was tough because monster magnet totally kicked ass. and he beat hole's ass, which also was tough because courtney turned it up a notch since it was LA and she wanted to show off for her friends.

but manson lives in LA too and rocked the house. and when the plug was pulled to quick the kids were pumped up for they had been waiting for something like that for a while. and to be honest it was one of the first times where i ever felt why they say, "keep the audience wanting more." cuz it was pretty nice wanting more. the imagination went wild. i put on those records again and i saw more in them. it was great.

next time manson plays where you live, i hope he twists his ankle for you too.

Los Angeles Contemporary Exhibitions is located at 6522 Hollywood Boulevard, east of Highland and west of Cahuenga. The cross street is Wilcox. Parking is available for $4.50 in the lot behind the building, accessible from Wilcox. There is also ample metered street parking available. They are near the 101 freeway and the Metro Red Line�s Hollywood/Vine station. The galleries are wheelchair accessible. Admission to the gallery is free with a recommended donation of $3.00 ($2.00 students, members free). Gallery hours are Wednesdays through Saturdays 12:00-6:00 p.m. (323) 957-1777

   Friday, September 20, 2002  
the survivor premiere was on last night. tony loves "survivor". i dont think he's missed one episode. ashley was sitting on his lap being cool. the phone was ringing off the hook and i was rocking in the lazy boy as we all watched the first episode like a little family.

if you didnt see it, the people got to pick two teams. a lady who said she was 53 and a man who was 55 picked teams out of the other 14 or 16 "tribespeople". i dont remember how many there were.

the lady picked what seemed to be nice people. the man picked what ended up being pretty, fratboy and sorority girl "athletic" people. so you had the beautiful people against the regular people.

i wont tell you who got kicked off because they're gonna show a special "encore presentation" tomorrow night.

but i think it was a brilliant move for cbs to have them pick themselves because at first i thought i was gonna root for the hot babes, but it turned out that i ended up rooting for the regular, non-fratboy team.

ashley watched them try to scale a cliff in search for water and she said, "at this point they would have voted to kick me off."

shes not the survivor-type, in fact at 1:30am they woke me up as i slept in the guest wing, and asked me if i wanted to make a mcdonalds run.

i like survivor. ive learned a lot about life through survivor. sometimes when i come home and look through my cupboards and think, "shit, i dont have anything to eat," i think about survivor and think, "hell, those people could live off of what i have in here for a week," and then i put something good together.

of the new survivors, ashley thought the used-car salesman was a cheeseball. she thought the tommy lee skateboarding bartender was an idiot, and thought the preacher was a dumbass.

i liked the big black guy the most.i hope he wins.

well i hope i have entertained you today. and tomorrow we'll see what happens.

happy friday, america,

Lefty Tony
in honor of America's #1 movie tony went to a real life black barbershop last night in the hood.

everyone was black except the half black guy who was trying to be super black who had a huge tattoo on his chest a real black guy in chains raising his hands to the sky (not pictured).

tony sat down, the guy picked out his 'fro and said, "so what are we doing, brotha?"

tony said cut half of it off.

dont ever tell a barber at a barbershop to do anything other than "trim" a 'fro or they'll shave it all off.

the remains of tony's 'fro is about a quarter inch high, all the way around. he looks like sammy davis jr. during his non-afro days.

i think he looks good. ashley thinks he looks good. she came over last night. i got lost for a while.

funny thing happened at the babershop.

the barbers were playing some neojazz funk stuff. you could tap your feet to it, but i didnt know the lyrics. neither did tony.

then the cd stopped and one of the barbers put in a mix tape of old school jams. these are all young barbers in their 20s. me and tony fit right in.

they start talking about the songs as theyre singing along.

tony's barber asked him, "whoo... you like DeBarge?"

tony said, "not particuliarilly."

barber says, "who do you like then?"

he said, "rock."

barber said, "you mean like Poison."

tony just laughed.

i went to get a slice from across the street.

when i came back they were all singing "shook me all night long" acapella.

someone had their dog at the barber shop. the dog tried to sing with the guys. all he did was howl till someone slapped him in the back.

it didnt hurt. he was a big dog.

he looked at the guy. licked his chops. then layed down on the floor like a good dog.

the charge was $20 to get a 'fro cut. tony gave the guy $30, then we hopped in the ride and flew home.
gamboa had it coming. i cant get into particulars here, but trust me when i tell you that it was no accident that of all the players on the field, the umpire, the fans, there was a reason that my brother and his cousin took off their shirts, hopped the fence, and tore down the right field line to the first base coaches box at him, obviously risking arrest, or at the least, ejection from the fine stadium on west thirty fifth.

no one is so innocent.

perhaps he was involved in some hijinks behind the scenes that led to last night's public thrashing.

maybe he was just a victim.

my partner lenny doesnt believe that any of us are victims. that we are totally responsible for the things in our lives that cross our paths. i think lennys been smoking too much of the wacky tobbacky. what about train wrecks, i ask him.

the creator put all the people whose times were up and loaded them on a train, he says.

what about the young ones, i ask.

sometimes young ones have to go, he says.

what about the babies, i ask. i hate lenny.

sometimes the babies are just undercover angels, he says. and i dont hate him so much, any more.

so i dont know why gamboa got his last night. but he did. i dont think he got it all that bad, cuz the whole royal team came out to help him, and the team doctor looked him over right afterwards. nomal people dont ever have anyone help them, then they gotta wait two hours in the emergency room waiting room to see some kid doctor who doesnt know shit anyhow, and then you gotta pay a $50 copay.

gamboa didnt have to pay any copay.

he got off easy.

Lefty Tony says gamboa got off easy. and i'd say it again.
hi, my name is Lefty Tony.

they call me Lefty Tony because my family left me when i was a child. the entire truth is that the doctors the nurses, everyone, not just my family left me when i was born. the doctor pulled me out, horrified behind his mask, showed me to a nurse who fainted, showed me to another nurse who peed herself and showed me to my parents who cried. and then ditched me.

burgalars who robbed the abandonded hospital found me and adopted me into a life of crime. eventually i went to jail, and after my ten year rehabilitation i was recruited into the xbi by someone very dear to your hearts.

as he prepares to depart, on his much deserved vacation, he has entrusted me with his blog today, and the keys to his bachelor pad, flying car, and home computer.

in return, i will housesit for him, occasionally update his blog with classic posts from the past, and attempt to entertain you with, in some cases, new pictures and tighter editing.

speaking of pictures, today's posts will include photos of my little brother freddy, who got himself nationwide press with our cousin manny as they beat the shit out of kansas city royal first base coach Tom Gamboa last night in the ninth inning at comisky.

south side!

i love that kid, i swear. even though he's my brother he calls me uncle lefty because he doesnt want to believe that hes related to me. knucklehead.

strangers think that i'm called Lefty due to my prostetic arm.

i must admit, i would probably think that too.

but i love my half arm. it's what makes me different. in many ways it's my personality. and if it wasnt for a great idea by tony, and his insight, i would have never thought that i stood a chance to get in the xbi.

but when he asked me if i was willing to put a gigantic screw at the end of my elbow, and attach deadly weapons or useful tools to the end of it, i saw what he saw, unlimited potential.

so needless to say, i'd do anything for him.

remind me to tell you about the time he made this two foot vibrator, screwed it on me, took me to a strip club.

the ladies were speechless.

today's entries are in honor of my little brother freddy and our cousin manny.

you two did good.

   Thursday, September 19, 2002  
am i the only one thinking that naomi campbell looks amazing?

theres a church next door that has a huge sign that says "come in now," and i think if they had naomi cambell in the clergy, maybe we'd all sign up.

has she aged a day?

incredible tummy, beautiful legs, attitude in her strut: why isnt naomi campbell on the cover of every health and fitness magazine in production?

im thinking she's an alien.

i heard rumors that she has a pretty bad attitude, and has often times been called a bitch.

you know what? fine.

i want my supermodels to be spoiled bitches.

jenny mccarthy might have had the hottest and cutest playboy layout of all time. but as soon as she started putting her finger up her nose and trying to act like one of the boys, it lost everything for me.

if naomi was my girl, i'd let her pout. why not? any time she just wanted to walk around the house complaining about this one or that one, throwing dishes, taking a golf club to televisions, spitting, i would just go into the game room and play my xbox on the 42" plasma screen.

let it out, naomi.

and if, for whatever reason, she wanted to start drifting her anger in my direction, i'd say, whatever baby, cuz as hot as you are, my mother is still the most beautiful woman in the world.

which is true.

and today is her birthday.

happy birthday, mom.
Welch wants to know what "gank" means. Since he grew up a few miles from Compton, it surprises me that he isn't familiar with the term, but it's cool.

It's slang for "to steal".

The best use of the word "gank", in my memory is on Ice Cube's second solo album. After leaving N.W.A, there was a ton of animosity between Cube and his former rap-mates.

Rumors had it that even though Ice Cube wrote all the lyrics and the band sold millions of copies of "Straight Outta Compton," Cube only ended up with $30,000. so he left. pissed off.

On the only full-length N.W.A record that came out after Ice Cube left, Niggaz4life, the remaining members said this of their old lyricist in the track "Real Niggaz":

"We started out wit too much cargo
So I'm glad we got rid of Benedict Arnold"

Ice Cube was more than happy to give his rebuttal, which included a classic line which references Eazy-E's infamous 1990 lunch with President George H. Bush at a $2,500 a plate GOP fundraiser. Eazy-E later said that the $2,500 got him a million dollars worth of publicity.

And it gave Ice Cube a haunting refrain in one of his angriest and best tracks.

Ice Cube
Death Certificate
Priority Records

"No Vaseline"

Got damn, I'm glad ya'll set it off.
Used to be hard, now you're just wet and soft.
First you was down with the AK,
and now I see you on a video with Michel'le?
Lookin' like straight bozos.
I saw it comin', that's why I went solo.
And kept on stompin',
when ya'll mothafuckers moved straight outta Compton.
Livin' with the whites, one big house,
and not another nigga in site.
I started off with too much cargo,
dropped four niggas now I'm makin' all the dough.
White man just rulin'.
The Niggas With Attitudes -- who ya foolin'?
Ya'll niggas just phony,
I put that on my mama and my dead homeys.
Yella Boy's on your team, so you're losin';
Ay yo Dre, stick to producin'.
Callin' me Arnold, but you Been-a-dick;
Eazy E saw your ass and went in it quick.
You got jealous when I got my own company,
but I'm a man, and ain't nobody helpin' me.
Tryin' to sound like Amerikkka's Most,
you could yell all day but you don't come close.
Cuz you know I'm the one that flowed,
ya done run 100 miles, but you still got one to go.
With the L-E-N-C-H M-O-B, and ya'll disgrace the C-P-T.
Cuz you're gettin' fucked out your green by a white boy,
with no vaseline...

[Refrain] (L.L. sample: "Now you're gettin' done without vaseline...") 3x
(Biz Markie sample: "Damn, it feels good to see people...on it")

The bigger the cap, the bigger the peelin',
who gives a fuck about a punk-ass villain?
You're gettin' fucked real quick,
and Eazy's dick, is smellin' like MC Ren's shit.
Tried to tell you a year ago,
but Willie D told me to let a hoe be a hoe, so
I couldn't stop you from gettin' ganked,
now let's play big-bank-take-little-bank.
Tried to dis Ice Cube, it wasn't worth it
cuz the broomstick fit your ass so perfect.
Cut my hair and I'll cut them balls,
cuz I heard you're, like, givin' up the drawers.
Gang-banged by your manager, fella,
gettin' money out your ass, like a mothafuckin' Ready Teller.

Givin' up the dollar bills,
now they got the Villain with a purse and high-heels.
So don't believe what Ren say,
cuz he's goin' out like Kunte Kinte,
but I got a whip for ya Toby;
used to be my homey, now you act like you don't know me.
It's a case of divide-and-conquer,
cuz you let a Jew break up my crew.
House nigga gotta run and hide,
yellin' Compton, but you moved to Riverside.
So don't front, MC Ren, cuz I remember when you drove a B-210.
Broke as a mothafuckin' joke.
Let you on the scene to back up the FirstTeam.
It ain't my fault, one nigga got smart,
and they rippin' your asshole apart.
By takin' your green, oh yeah,
the Villain does get fucked with no vaseline.

[Refrain scratched]

I never have dinner with the President.
I never have dinner with the President.
I never have dinner with the President.
And when I see your ass again, I'll be hesitant.
Now I think you a snitch,
throw a house nigga in a ditch.
Half-pint bitch, fuckin' your homeboys.
You little maggot; Eazy E turned faggot.
With your manager, fella,
fuckin' MC Ren, Dr. Dre, and Yella.
But if they were smart as me,
Eazy E would be hangin' from a tree.
With no vaseline, just a match and a little bit of gasoline.
Light 'em up, burn 'em up, flame on...
till that Jheri curl is gone.
On a permanent vacation, off the Massa plantation.
Heard you both got the same bank account,
dumb nigga, what you thinkin' bout?
Get rid of that Devil real simple, put a bullet in his temple.
Cuz you can't be the Nigga 4 Life crew
with a white Jew tellin' you what to do.
Pullin' wools with your scams, now I gotta play the Silence of the Lambs.
With a midget who's a punk too,
tryin' to fuck me, but I'd rather fuck you.
Eric Wright, punk, always into somethin',
gettin' fucked at night.
By Mista Shitpacker,
bend over for the gotdamn cracker,
no vaseline...

Where are they now?

Dr. Dre is currently reaping the benefits of co-writing, producing and directing the music and videos of multi-platinum artists Eminem and Snoop Doggy Dogg. He has a hugely successful solo recording career, and he is president of Aftermath Records.

Ice Cube is currently starring in America's #1 box office movie, "Barbershop," and recently told late night talk show host Craig Kilborn that he hopes to join Aftermath shortly and have his next solo record to be produced by Dre.

Eazy-E died several years ago from the AIDS virus.
ashley gets jealous. have i ever told you that? it's true.

i tell her that she has no reason to be that way, that none of the girls in LA really want me and she says, "that's not what Lenny Kravitz says."

i tell her that Lenny wears women's clothes and is bald as a bat and wears a wig.

she says "BLIND as a bat, poopyhead."

i say, lenny isn't blind.

then she sighs. she sighs a lot. when she sighs i say, "what was that?" and she gives me a second sigh. it's cute.

almost every night before i go to sleep ashley calls me. lately she has been trying to start fights with me. i hate fights. last night she caught me after our xbi softball game. i was watering the grass out by the duck pond. the automatic sprinklers aren't working. i think our gardener is an alcoholic. anyhow, ashley was saying how she feels unloved by me and i said, i put a huge picture of you on my blog. she said, so, you didn't write about me. i said i did! i said you were perfect. she said, you didn't say that i inspire you. i said, aaaaah of course you inspire me.

it was hard to explain. so i stuck to the fact that i put her picture up. it was really all that i had going for me.

how many blogs put your picture up yesterday? i asked her.

nobody i know has a blog other than you. she said. when she enunciated "blog" she made it sound like a stupid thing. like, "you'd never guess what Juanita got for her sweet 16th birthday gift: a frog!"

i undressed, turned off the christmas lights and climbed into bed. we were still on the phone

i told her that i found a pair of her red panties.

"i don't have any red panties," she said.

i could have sworn they were red. but you know my memory.

she became very angry at the idea that some other panties might be left behind that weren't hers.

she said, "describe them."

i said, "im in bed."

she said, "DESCRIBE THEM!"

i said, they smell like you.

she said, don't be gross.

i said, they're a thong, they seem new.

she said, "get out of bed right now and tell me what the label says."

i got out of bed right then and found the panties and said, "victoria secret."

she said, "those aren't red those are pink!"

my christmas lights had tricked me yet again.

she said, "i love those! that sucks that i left them behind."

i said, "don't worry, they're safe in this ziplock baggy."

she said, "i told you not to be gross."

i said, "i could make $100 off these panties. you're famous."

she said, "you're more famous than me."

i said, "a famous girl's teen panties found on the famous guy's floor. that could get us $100."

she said, "im hanging up if you don't stop being so sick."

i said, "im not that famous. probably only $75."

she said, "please don't sell my panties."

i said, "i wont sell them for less than $125. don't worry.

and she said, if you sell those i will never talk to you again.

i said, promises promises daisy princess. and i schemed myself to sleep.
hi, tony pierce

hi lenny kravitz, nice wig.

yeah. yeah. hey tony, mind if i take over your blog when you go on vacation?

only if you only talk about what happens backstage at your concerts.

oh, man, all i do is drink juice, talk to the entertainment reporters, and do yoga.

it's who youre doing the yoga with, lenny, that im sure readers of my blog would be interested in learning about.

ive been housesitting in your neighborhood, tony pierce. every day i see a different girl show up.

those are my cousins. they like to cook. if they make a big meal, they'll put some in tupperware and bring it over.

those are some mighty close hugs youre giving your cousins.

im very grateful for their food.

most of these girls are white, tony.

nah, just light skinned. you know how it is.

one of the girls was chinese.

that was saki, she's japanese.

you have a japanese cousin?

no, that was a chick i met at the Nacional.

so you are dating her!

actually she brought over some tempura.

but you kissed her, i saw it!

no no. she just had a little spinach in her teeth that i was helping her remove. and my hands were full. of tupperware.

anyway, what about the blog? can i do it? please?

only if you talk about lisa bonet.

you're a gentleman, like me. we dont kiss and tell.

good point, lenny. whats up with you selling all the stuff in your new orleans house?

ironically, me and lisa used to live there right before the "let love rule" album was recorded. i never felt right back there after we split. i didnt do my taxes so well last year, so i figured i'd just sell everything in the place.

even the suit of armor?!

it's not as kinky as i was hoping it would be.

im gonna steal from the obvious blog right now.


lenny, in five words, describe what its like to be a handsome lead guitar singer songwriter frontman

redhead mondays, brunettes tuesdays; twins

im not sure i understand, lenny, im not sure im worthy to understand.

its not a wig, by the way.

then screw you, you cant borrow my blog.


cuz only i can lie here.
my boss's boss slapped the Lying Hat off my head. the propeller stopped spinning. the monkey got stuck on his way back in.

i thought you said you wanted me to keep the hat on.

i knew she could read my mind, so i added,

fucking bitch.

she clenched her fist. i knew she didn't like me.

"do you know my superpower, ma'am?"

"i know more about you than you know, la vista."

then you know i feel no pain

"then explain your carpal tunnel."


"you want your fingers and arms to ache?"

theres beer everywhere, drugs, tv. all we do is try to numb our senses. theres a bar at a shoe store on hollywood blvd. what's that all about?

"so you want to feel pain?"

i want to feel something.

the monkey's gears were whining. i picked up the hat and put it back on my 'fro. but before it could get comfortable, i put it on my boss's boss's head.

why do you hate me?

"i don't hate you. actually i admire you. it wasn't my idea to block you from being a superagent. i just think that sometimes you underperform."

strangely that stung. i wasnt expecting her to hit me there just like that. that early. i didnt even know she knew me that well.

everyone slacks off. i'm there when you need me arent i?

"i know, i know. but to be honest. to be a superagent, you've got to be on like all the time. its a different mindset than you have right now, agent. it's commitment, fearlessness, obedience, passion, and trust. only then can there be room for magic."

the propeller made a slow revolution on her cap.

"the air conditioner is on, la vista."

im not here not to be a superstar.

"then quit acting like a punk."

she took the goofy cap off and set it back on the shelf where it belonged and walked over to a locked cage.

please God please.

"please get your mind out of the gutter, agent"

"honestly, boss, i just want to see what's in that cage."

"oh. okay. theres something in here i want to give you. i have an assignment that i need you to complete at noon."

it was 11am.

"a bank is going to be robbed. a very crowded bank. we're afraid that the perps will flub it, panic, and take hostages or kill people."

scores of agents illegally listened in on bad guys all over the city as they talked on cell phones or held meetings in apartments. the truly stupid called each other on cordless phones, easilly monitored by police radio. meaning, even the police knew. some of those calls were from us. decoys. it wasnt nice. but it had to be that way. we had to establish ourselves with each sunrise. and reinforce the underground myth that the fbi knows a bunch, but the xbi knows everything.

"this is a pair of form-fitting earplugs. you and six other agents will be wearing them. you will all be in the bank before it gets robbed. each of you will also have one of these," she handed me a canister that looked like what people with asthma use to clear their lungs.

"this canister emits a tone so high-pitched that it makes it terribly painful for humans to tolerate. unless you're wearing those earplugs, you will try to cover your ears, your stomach will turn, there will be vomiting and screams of pain.

"your job, la vista, is to activate the tone, kick open the teller door, and spray paint the lenses of the two center cameras behind the tables.

"your cue will be a gunshot."

so each agent will spray paint a pair of cameras. and one of the agents will get either the money or the perps.

"the idea is to get the money and foil the heist. but if we have to shoot one of the perps on the way out, then so be it."

"i have to kick in a door, and spray paint two cameras." i asked her.

"and then get on the bus," she said.

i took the canister and thanked her for the gig.

"from the sound of the gunshot, to the activation of the disturbance, to the spraying of the cameras you have thirty seconds. then you have fifteen seconds to exit. even a slacker like you could do this."

i gave her a sarcastic smile. God this was great.

i hope it's a wells fargo i thought.

"it is a wells fargo," she said. reading my mind. smiling.

fucking hate wells fargo.

   Wednesday, September 18, 2002  
how to get yourself amazing karma

1. snag me something off my wishlist, which someone did today in honor of my upcoming 109th birthday. Thank you mysterious amazon-er! today's gift is the incredible Quick Chop! i'm learning to cook for myself but i am deathly afraid of slicing my fingers off over a handfull of carrots: now with the Quick Chop I can slice and dice with my eyes closed. GRACIAS!

2. turn the world on with your smile. and if that doesnt work, write about how to properly give yourself a brazilian bikini shave. people often ask me if i ever get lonely being a bachelor. usually i think to myself that there could be no better time to be a young-ish man, what with girls with tounge-piercings, waxings, thongs, lowrider jeans, belly shirts, trendy bi-sexuality experimentations, ecstasy parties and the sorority house down the street. and now with the internet, if you cant get enough of those things on your block, you can just click a few times on the web and find those babes online.

3. be a public servant like Santa Cruz , CA, Mayor Christopher Krohn, who handed out medical marijuana yesterday on the city hall steps in defiance to the feds who bumrushed a co-op that was growing the natty weed in order to sell it to locals who were suffering through little things like cancer, AIDS, and other terminal illnesses. why he's not higher than #3 on this list is because he wore a suit yesterday in this picture, probably to look more mayoral. nice try, but it didnt work. better luck next time, amigo. but you are definately in the running for man of the year, which was awarded last year to pop singer phil collins.

4. thank me on your sweet page next to a perky blonde and call me the inspiration for your art? wow.

5. or you can just thank me for putting up a nice picture of francis bean, a young girl who will either be the most fucked up child of all time, or the coolest most amazing person ever. my money is with the latter, which makes me an optimist. whichever, i would bet loads that she will definately not be boring.

now go fly into the night sky, little jelly beans, and do things that will metaphysically inspire our girl kate to update her bloggy blog blog, cuz its really hard to go many days without it.
Free Will Astrology for Libra
week of September 19, 2002
by Rob Brezney
"The Universe is Made of Stories"

The poet Muriel Rukeyser said the universe is not composed of atoms, but of stories. The physicist Werner Heisenberg declared that the universe is made of music, not matter. And I believe that if you habitually expose yourself to inferior music and stories -- even unwittingly -- you could wind up living in the wrong universe. I bring this up now because it's never been more important for you to nourish yourself with righteous tales and tunes.

i read the above, my astrology, in the LA Weekly, which serves its purpose in this town: Lynda Barry comic, Matt Groening comic, coupons for cheap lap dances, rock listings, etc. and i ordered my food at koo koo roo and went into the bathroom to wash my hands and i heard the following song and i, once again, was shocked at the accuracy of Mr. Brezney's creepy ass insight.

Kelly Clarkson

"A Moment Like This"

What if i told you it was all meant to be?
Would you believe me? Would you agree?
Its almost that feeling that we've met before
so tell me that you dont think im crazy
when i tell you love has come here and now
a moment like this
some people wait a lifetime for a moment like this
some people search forever for that one special kiss
oh i cant believe its happeneing to me
some people wait a lifetime for a moment like this
Everything changes but beauty remains
something so tender i cant explain
i may be dreaming but until i awake cant we make this dream last forever?
and ill cherish all the love we share
a moment like this
some people wait a lifetime for a moment like this
some people search forever for that one special kiss
oh i cant believe its happeneing to me
some people wait a lifetime for a moment like this
could this be the greatest love of all?
i wanna know that you will catch me when i fall
so let me tell you this...
some people wait a lifetime for a moment like this..
a moment like this
some people wait a lifetime for a moment like this
some people search forever for that one special kiss
oh i cant believe its happeneing to me
some people wait a lifetime for a moment, a moment like this...
oh i cant believe its happening to me..
some people wait a lifetime for a moment like this...
ways to get me to link to you in a blog entry

call me a genius.

call me the Absolute King Of Bloggers.

keep me linked on the snoop doggy blog.

link me at the top of your link list.

call me your hero.

take a cool picture of the lake behind your house and then write me a sweet email.

write a long long long piece about several young people talking about sex.

or you can just tell the world that im amazing in the sack.

p.s. or be my canadian girlfriend
karisa came over last night to help me pick up my laundry. shes a good friend.

the korean laundry man speaks very little english and left me a telephone message that i swear to you only said, "you washie, uhhh mmmm, you pickie up."

how cant you smile when you get three such messages like that?

but karisa says that i need a break, a much deserved vacation, that you, faithful readers, have flowed my way. next week i will be in the tropical dutch island of aruba. my original plan was to write this blog from the sandy beaches but karisa sez that my art needs to rest. that too much has gone on since my last vacation, and i should just chill till the next episode. and after my last post slamming a site that i don't even know, i am starting to believe her.

ashley is a great quasi-girlfriend. she would make a perfect regular girlfriend if i was only 100 years younger, but for the most part we are really spectacular together in all things lovey-doveyish.

chris is a perfect ex-girlfriend. we still hold hands and call each other several times a week, and email each other and confide in one another, and are best friends forever.

but karisa is my motivator and best advice giver. i dont know how this happened, but it did happen and its good. rarely does she tell me what to do, but when she does i think about it and disagree and then usually warm up to the idea and when i follow through with it, alls good.

so last night when i told her my plan of updating from the beach she scowled and said rest your sweet hands. enjoy the beach. pick up on the bikini girls. if you must write, write long hand. she said, "you have blogger pro, figure out how it can update your site automatically using the best stuff from your archives. i'll even help you if you want."

karisa is secretly a computer genius, though she'll be the first to deny it.

so i do apologize to all of the kids on metafilter, and technoerotica, my future employer the la times, and whoever else i have flamed in one way or another or given a dirty look to.

monday was the jewish day of atonement and next week will be mine.

i will plunge into the healing waters of the carribian and enjoy the company of my family and hope that my old college pals don't wreck my hollywood mansion.

i am so grateful to all of you who flowed the busblog the $700 that got me in the friendly skies, and im super grateful to my brother-in-law who got me first class upgrades. im not grateful to best buy who has not returned my digital camera yet, but maybe that means i should take a complete break from that too.

for some people like me, its hard to fully let go and fully relax and fully just zone out for a few days. maybe its cuz i think that i relax and zone out daily.

but fighting crime on the mean streets of LA will twist your perception, and im open to believing that things might not be as they seem.

similarly, karisa, a speed reader bookworm, has fully become a one-woman promotion machine for the well-reviewed novel "white oleander". she says don't let the Oprah Book Club seal get in your way, that its the best book shes read all year. she says i should take that on the plane with me and read it on the beach and drink tropical drinks and bond with my two month old niece.

hopefully i will listen to my good pals advice.
et tu, erotica?

although there are a handful of sparkling exceptions, typically the rule holds true that if you have a beautifully designed blog that's (c) copyrighted, theres usually nothing at all to steal. is gorgeous, but perhaps should stick to speculating about james brown's testicles, bitching about people who use cell phones while they drive, and providing handy links to coffee enemas, and leave serious issues like what the LA Times covers in their California Living section to me and my buddy welch.

insinuating that our gripes were largely narcissistic, technoerotica is conducting a cute little poll asking its readers if matt and i would have changed our tune if we had been mentioned in last week's times feature on blogs.

truth is, as anyone who had bothered to read our posts would have surmised, we would have been happier if ANY los angeles blogger would have been mentioned, or interviewed, or photographed, or consulted.

apologists to the embarrassing article claim that the times approached academics purposely, arguing that there would have been greater benefit to interviewing the professors and former journalists than the actual bloggers who are actually living the trend.

may i respectfully type: poppycock.

in the wake of 9/11, real journalists were interviewing Taliban spokespeople. would the times instead choose to talk to a poli-sci prof at usc than a taliban prisoner, if, God forbid, one of osama's buddies decided to do some more fucked up shit? maybe i shouldn't ask such questions. im scared what their answer might be.

perhaps a better rhetorical question would be: do the times interview college softball coaches when they want to do a story about the dodgers?

technoerotica's readers also make me scratch my head. ive gotten exactly three referals from yesterday's post, yet over 100 people have voted in the poll. so either technoerotica is talking about old news that all of its readers have already researched and formed opinions, or its poll takers couldn't care less about the long and detailed complaints that welch and i have.

finally, the poll should have been worded: "Would Pierce and Welch express a different view had any LA blogs been mentioned in Tawa's article?" for as it is currently worded, i was inclined to press Yes along with the majority of voters, because the glaring fault with the story is they completely ignored all LA Bloggers, not just me and welch.

has this dead horse been beaten enough?

maybe i should create a poll.

instead of such nonsense, i posted a new photo essay instead, created by a special guest star.

   Tuesday, September 17, 2002  
welch hailed my car chase channel idea which is scary because that's just the tip of the iceberg for that channel - i didn't even get into the split screen, and drinking games for each time the perp breaks a law or bumps a car.

but the best idea i have for television is actually something that i hope Eric Neel or Welch have discussed in the last week or so (accept my apologies, i was buying jewels for my mom). but i want baseball to return to letting its division archrivals end the season by playing head-to-head games against each other.

by end, i mean schedule the Giants and Dodgers, Angels and A's, Yankees and Red Sox, etc. to play the very last games of the season against themselves instead of this nonsense that's going on right now.

not too long ago, i think right before Interleague began, you could always count on the Dodgers and the Giants playing against each other and one team playing spoiler against the other. Don't you remember Joe Morgan hitting a homer for the Giants against the Dodgers to knock them out of playoff contention? That's the stuff rivalries are all about. Think how wonderful these killer series' that are going on right now would be if they were the last games of the year?

Don't you remember the 78 Yankees and Red Sox and how they played against each other during the final run and it ended in a tie, and Bucky Dent hit a homer in Fenway? Isn't that how it went?

Why would MLB want the Dodgers to end their season against the Padres? Sure they're physically close, but there has never been a Dodger/Padre rivalry. The Giants/Dodgers thing has been going on since before Vin Scully-- and that's a long time, kids. Similarly, who thinks that the Mariners and Angels have any sort of rivalry?

College football always has the USC/UCLA, Oklahoma/Nebraska, Army/Navy matchup to conclude the regular season, and baseball had that too, until my old pal, Uncle Bill decided to tinker with the national pasttime again.

Best idea you're going to read from this blog is the plea to the powers that be to bring back the final weeks of baseball to what they were: incredibly interesting.

In the meantime, feel free to use the comments section to tell me how smart i am and how much you've liked my blog the last few weeks.
was checking out last night's conan on comedy central while eating my chinese leftovers at my desk for lunch when my boss's boss, this super dooper hot black woman who looks like a young whitney crossed with a younger vanessa williams, tapped me on the shoulder.

sonny, come with me. she ordered.

trailed her as she made her way to the elevators. everyone knows her. looked like everyone had some business with her.

"we never got that approval from IT," someone shouted at her.

"tell em to call Phil." she'd yell back.

"the houston guy says that he doesnt want to do it for under a thousand," some complete babe smiled at her.

"tell him it's three hundred or we'll get it from mexico."

i loved this woman. and she did it in heels!

we got on the elevator, she put her key in, turned it and pressed a button that ive pressed before. B2. second basement. property room. otherwise known as the evidence room. at the xbi we dont really have "evidence," we dont really go to court as xbi agents. we just have stuff that we've collected over the years that we use to get either more stuff or people or use as bribes or blackmail, extortion, etc.

ding. door opened. she smiled at the two guys who opened the door for her. that led down a little hall with a thick door and a tiny window. we could hear a phone ring in there. then the door opened. two more guys opened the door and had us each sign a sheet that hadnt been signed in two days. names id never seen before. when i handed back the pen, i was given a pair of rubber gloves and i snickered.

"one joke, sonny, and these two gentlemen will hold you as i pummel you," she said. thats when they snickered.

i thought to myself, "you dont have to have them hold me down, baby."

"i heard that," she said. and tapped her esp earpiece.

creeped out, i started humming "hot in herrre." by nelly, bitch.

stepped into one of the many evidence rooms. was instructed not to touch anything, a beanie with a propellor on the top cuaght my eye and i put it on as i followed her down the aisle.

she turned around and i prentended everything was fine.

"take that off immediately, agent." she said.

"take what off?"

"thats a Lying Hat." she warned.

"then it's worthless cuz ive never told a lie in my life." i said.

and the propellor started to spin and a tiny toy monkey appeared from within the propellor's center, did a little jig, and just as quickly, retreated back into the cap.

"im here to ask you your advice on this new item," she said. i kept the cap on. i wanted her to love me.

"this," she said, "is 2-minute Acid."


"yes." she said. "it works for two minutes and wears off."

"i dont think theres any use for that." i said.

my propellor spun and the monkey appeared and began breakdancing, finished with a headspin and sunk back into the cap.

"you're going to wear out the batteries." she said.

i took off the cap and she said, "no, no, no. leave it on. you look cute in it."

so i left it on.
just in time for the new tv season "Seasame Street" in South Africa has finally introduced the much-speculated muppet with HIV.

Kami is 5 years old, likes nature, telling stories and collecting stuff, and if things weren't rough enough for her, SS South Africa has also found it important to make her an orphan.

"We are living in a society that is very stigmatizing and discriminatory," said Musa Njoko, an AIDS activist, to the Miami Herald. The introduction of Kami "is going to create a culture of acceptance."

and as cheesy as it sounds, if i had a little kid, i would give it a stuffed Kami. why not? i would hug Magic Johnson. hell, we should all be hugging Magic Johnson, that guy's HIV just seemed to make him healthier. ive never seen a more healthy sick person in my life.

4.7 million South Africans - one in nine - are HIV-positive, more people than in any other country in the world.

more from the Miami Herald story:

At the unveiling, Kami, who has a mop of brown hair and wears a vest, wanders onto Sesame Street and wonders nervously if residents will want to play with her.

She needn't have worried. The other Muppets enthusiastically welcome Kami.

Kami, whose name means acceptance in the Tswana language, will teach viewers about coping with illness and loss. The character will be introduced to South African audiences when the second season of "Takalani Sesame" begins Sept. 30.

let's hope one in nine americans dont have to come down with HIV before we start to teach our children about safe sex and other ways to avoid contracting this serious disease.


Mellow Gold
Geffen Records


Alcohol on my hands
I got plans
To ditch myself and get outside
Dancing women
Throwing plates
Decapitating their laughing dates
Swirling chickens caught in flight
Out of focus
Much too bright
Coming down
Shiny teeth
Game show suckers trying to breath
But I got a drug and I got the bug
And I got something better than love

How you like me now
Pretty good
Going on, feeling strong

I quit my job blowing leaves
Telephone bills up my sleeves
Choking like a one man dustbowl
Freedom rock slimeball
Talking in code
We went down
Lit up the shack
Grab me a beer out of the sack
Everybody bent over twice
Painting the walls throwing some dice
Leaping up into the air getting juiced up beyond belief
And they were singing like this

Winos throwing Frisbees at the sun
Put my soul between a bun
Now I'm hungry now I'm drunk
Now I'm running like a flaming pig

Oh yeah
Scraping off the attitude

Old man eating all my food
Don't be kind
Don't be rude
Just shake your boots and let it all get loose

Oh yeah
My goodness

Fluffy clouds
Jumping rainbows
Fluffy clouds
I'm sad
Jumping rainbows
Asoft and snuggly place

Fluffy clouds
I'm sad and unhappy

Winos throwing Frisbees at the sun
Put my soul between a bun
Now I'm horny now I'm drunk
Now I'm running like a flaming pig

Oh yeah, I like it like that
Oh that is cold
Somebody put a flame-thrower on that
Oh my goodness
Take me down to the depot
Buddy put me down on the bus
Oh yeah
I like it like that
Somebody bring me a plate of sassafrass

ive had Directv for about 6-7 years now. who counts these things. finally they sent me a thank you card and offered me a free pay-per-view if i filled out a survey online. it's about time, i have total choice, the local channels, the football, baseball, and basketball package, and hbo. plus for a few years i had my own company that specialized in hooking up directv satelite dishes.

one pay-per-view movie? youre too kind.

but its cool. im addicted. i dont ask my heroin dealer for a few free grams. i dont ask my arms dealer for a free machine gun. i dont ask my senators to put free condoms in the shopping malls of california. i consume, i pay, im satisfied.

this weekend courtney love is, reportedly, going to spend 24 hours on MTV-2, one of my favorite channels. if i know MTV-2, they'll let coutrney play anything she wants. just other day they had the Jay-Z unplugged concert on. i love that station. they had a Hives concert that was amazing. they let that fat tattooed punk rocker deliver the news, beautifully. it's almost like they took everything good that MTV isnt doing and stuck it on the sister station.

there are some networks that i would like to see on my directv, if theres any billionaires out there looking to form a channel. i want a live car chase channel. in LA theres always car chases. they break into local programming and the cops always get their man, but its really entertaining.

i would want them to give us details about the neighborhoods that theyre speeding through, details about the car that theyre chasing. comedians could make jokes. the cross promotion and ad potentials are boundless. then when there arent any live chases, you could show us some classic ones. then when theres none of those, you could just feed in some survielence cam stuff. who doesnt like to people watch? thats all it is.

right now i would like to have a shot of venice beach. then in 5 minutes show me miami beach, then show me waikiki beach. then show me the mexican border. reality tv network. just make me vp in charge of programming and we'll call it even.

i was late to work today because they were spreading a red carpet on hollywood blvd in front of Mann's Chinese Theatre and all the busses freak out. youd think it would be simple enough to just cruise around the block, but no, they completely freak out and everyone was late.

i think today on reality carchase tv we could all watch the red carpet get laid out. i watch stupider stuff on tv.

   Monday, September 16, 2002  

The Rolling Stones
Voodoo Lounge
Rolling Stones Records/Virgin

"Blinded by Rainbows"
(M. Jagger/K. Richards, 1994)

Did you ever feel the pain
That he felt upon the cross
Did you ever feel the knife
Tearing flesh that's oh so soft

Did you ever touch the night
Did you ever count the cost
Do you hide away the fear
Put down paradise as lost

Yeah you're blinded by rainbows
Watching the wind blow
Blinded by rainbows
Do you dream at night
Do you sleep at night
I doubt it

Did you ever feel the blast
As the semtex bomb goes off
Do you ever hear the screams
As the limbs are all torn off
Did you ever kiss the child
Who just saw his father shot
Do you ever shed a tear
As the war drags on and on

Do you ever touch the night
Or is it just another job
Do you feel the final hours
Put down paradise as lost

Yeah you're blinded by rainbows
And faces in windows
Blinded by rainbows
Do you dream at night
Do you sleep at night
I doubt it

Do you ever fear the night
Could it be the war is lost
Do you fear the final hour
Do you kneel before the cross

You're blinded by rainbows
And watching the wind blow
Blinded by rainbows
Do you dream at night
Do you scream at night
Do you smell of fear
Is your conscience clear
Are you caked in sweat

Are your clothes all wet
Do you see the light
Is the end in sight
See the face of Christ
Enter paradise
I doubt it

things i learned thanks to my referall logs by tony pierce

the reverse cowgirl was at the la press club drinkfest and wanted to ask me why i felt shunned that the LA Times didnt interview any LA bloggers for their California Living section feature on blogging. she says that she was afraid that if we didnt get along i wouldnta asked her to have lattes with us later. somehow i thought 6'2" supervixens, who wrote very sexy things for a variety of publications wouldnt be intimidated by lil ole me and my friendly come-hither 'fro. i guess we were both wrong.

a peppy blog called "day old bread store," linked to me about something i wrote a few days ago. appropo.

fat nathan loved the fact that i linked him in a primo part of my blog. he said it was like the feeling he got hitting his first homer in little league. skinny guys like me never had that feeling, but im glad he was happy. im pretty big with fat guy readers, im starting to see.

a los angeles gay guy agreed with me about the l.a. times sucking. he has a cat called Big Puss and Little Puss which reminds me of Karisa's Bad Kitty and Good Kitty. Good Kitty, she tells me, is acting mighty gay, humping his brother and all. i told her, maybe he' s just pussy-whipped. and i laughed and laughed. but she didnt laugh. ashley tells me my jokes suck. i caught her covering her ears the other night.

laughing boy straight outta massachusettes, predicts that i will be dating Apple spokesperson ellen feiss by thanksgiving. although it's true that i do have an attraction to the pasty, stoney, blue eyed dreamy types, meesh and moxie can tell you that due to my terrible ego, i get very competitive to hot babes who not only have better websites than i, but who also have own fan sites! fall from grace a little, ellen and then maybe i'll change my mind. with that said, i am quite popular among the massholes. gratefully.

this superhot 23 yr old from austin has me in her links section and i have no idea why.

these superhot goth twins from san antonio still hate me, but keep my writings in their archives, and i really cant understand why either of those things are true. maybe texans are loco. hopefully sara will conclude something along those lines after she has settled down a spell.

her nickname is fat sarah but you can tell by her photo essay that she doesnt live up to her name. but sarah says hi to me vurtually, over at the dub side. right back at you, spartan girl. told you i do well with fat folks.

xfoo thinks im amazing. what i think is amazing are those blue periods.

and finally i learned that im this guy's number one referal. even when he's not putting up pictures of hot babes next to his posts, he still whips my ass. and i love how he has a real-time referall log that seems to publish (also in real-time) right to his page. magic!

p.s. anyone who wants to pick me up at my house tonight after work and drive me across the street from zancau chicken to pick up my laundry should email me. cuz then i'll be their best friend.
i grew up in chicago, my favorite paper was the Tribune, for most of my life i remember Bob Greene as the nostalgiac-infested milquetoasty columnist for the Trib, and not surprisingly i never liked him as a writer.

until saturday.

saturday squeaky-clean bob green, so much a goody-two-shoes that he makes the narrator of The Wonder Years sound like Marilyn Manson, handed in his resignation to the Tribune after an anonymous email (that did not mention Greene's name) led management to believe that the columnist had an "inappropriate" sexual relationship with a teen girl of legal consentable age several years ago.

bob greene, who makes bob costas look like ozzy osbourne, allegedly met the girl while doing a story, took her out to dinner, and engaged in sex, the Trib reports today. everything was cool until the woman tried to reach greene twice this year, according to the Trib, who in retaliation sicked the FBI on her!

that prompted the email, most would suggest, which prompted the investigation by Trib Corp's HR dept. and the Trib's managing editor, and very quickly Greene's resignation.

but my question is, what are they not telling us?

since when is a columnist having sex with a barely legal girl reason enough to step down from a artistically mediocre but wildly successful syndicated career that included reporting for "Nightline," "Oprah," and AP? didnt our last President have sex with a young woman of legal age and got to still be President? is writing for the Tempo section of the Trib a more honorable and refined profession applicable only to the highest echelon of chicago society-- or at least those without sin?

Greene was, ironically, hailed for several columns and a series that he wrote for the Trib denouncing child abuse which made him a great guest for Oprah whenever she wanted to talk about tortured and exploited children or child abuse. With a gigantic career based upon an aw-shucks tone of blue collar tales of midwestern values, couldn't one little fling many years ago get absolved after a teary apology and a heartfelt acceptance by his huge, loyal, forgiving following?

or was it more than just a little fling?

i smell something curious in chicago.

so we head over to the Tribune's arch-rivals, the Murdoch-owned Sun-Times, who today reports that Greene's 1984 book "Good Morning, Merry Sunshine," about his daughter's first year was released to the surprise of many of his colleagues who, the Sun-Times claims, didn't know he was married or a father. say what?

equally mysterious comes from the NYT which writes, "The dismissal of a journalist for personal conduct, as opposed to professional lapses, is uncommon," and they include a snippet from the Tribune spokesperson, who suddenly doesn't want to speak.

"Gary Weitman, a spokesman for the Tribune Company, which publishes the newspaper, said yesterday: 'We're not going to say anything more than what the statement is. He is no longer an employee,'" reports the paper of record.

some spokesman.

my favorite quote from this midwestern meltdown comes from my favorite shock jock, steve dahl, who paved the way for howard stern so smoothly that dahl is the only active dj who stern doesn't diss.

from the Sun-Time: "Popular radio host Steve Dahl, who, with Sun-Times columnist Neil Steinberg, made comic fodder of Greene's often-sentimental columns in a weekly 'Bob Greene Watch' segment on WCKG-FM (105.9), said he was surprised by Sunday's announcement.

" 'I always thought he'd get fired just for being a bad columnist,' Dahl said."

Exactly. But now Greene is suddenly interesting. His resignation has left those at Romenesko's letters section scratching their heads and me wondering why Murdoch hasn't scooped up this good-boy gone bad.

The main reason i disliked Greene was because he always seemed so sticky sweet and fake writing about the wonderfulness of this checker game in the park, with this story about a woman who has made americana bunting for 35 years. Greene is a guy who went on the road with Alice Cooper in '75, why would he bore us with middle of the road snooze fodder despite walking the same halls with the dean of chicago columnists Mike Royko? hadnt he learned anything?

well now i want Greene to come clean. i want him to show the world that he is a writer. writers cover both sides of the human experience, good and bad, and columnists are given the wonderful benefit of including their own personalities into their narrative. warts and all. Finally Opie has a wart, a huge one, apparently, and i want to see it.

Squeeze that mother and tell us all about it, bob greene, just like your forefathers would have done, just like you probably are dying to do, just like everyone wants you to.

finally you have found something worthwhile to write about.

you think a middle aged man getting all worked up over a 18 or 19 year old girl isnt something that happens from time to time in the midwest? you dont think that the guilt that must have followed this veteran writer wasnt unbelievable? you dont think theres any modern day drama that includes phone calls and emails from the young woman which culminates in the FBI and an anonymous email to the tribune's website tip line?

bob, if you dont write this down and submit it right now, then you really dont know much about what is newsworthy or interesting, or timely and my man steve dahl is right, you probably should have been fired a long time ago.

i know it might be embarrassing. but that never stopped you from writing all those bad columns and appearing on oprah.

{update: Instapundit, who is always on top of these things, has a link to Boomer-bashing column about this matter. Scalzi also agrees with me that Greene talents were minimal, and adds that the writer "telegraphed" his daliance in a novel he wrote about several men leaving their families to hit the road and find themselves... and hot babes.
ashley says i dont look 108 i say that will earn you another night's stay at the casa del vista.

the daisy princess brought both the bears and the raiders good luck this weekend and i told her that her reward would be a milk shake at johnny rockets on melrose and a sweet blog entry all about her.

ashley is a superhero of her own. all the cool kids love her. as you might know, we have a pretty special relationship. i let her date other dudes and i only get sorta jealous, she lets me date and when she gets in my house she goes straight to the caller ID and says "who's this? who's this! OMG get enough calls from this girl?" i think it's funny.

on saturday me and jeanine went down to the historic jewelry district of downtown LA and we picked up some jewels to make my mom a necklace for her 60th birthday, which is coming up. as a beverly hills jeweler, jeanine travels downtown once a week and knows her way through the maze of bizarre bazaars. everyone has codes on their merchandise. when we found something and asked the lady how much, she looked at the three letter code and came up with a number. it was fascinating.

i think we got a pretty decent deal, and great quality and then jeanine made it that night. and on the side she made ashley a necklace which we surprised her with on sunday afternoon. unfortunately my camera is still in the shop, but i will be happy to post a picture or two later this week when ashley uploads pics from her cam.

sunday morning we had breakfast and watched the bears eek out a win over the falcons. then we picked up her necklace and zoomed over to drew barrymore's favorite burrito place and made it back to my house to watch the new anna nicole episode (have i mentioned that i think her lawyer, howard k. stern is a massive dweeb? almost ruins the whole show.) and then we watched the incredible Sopranos season premiere. then we watched the chris rock "bigger and blacker" show from '99 which ashley had never seen somehow and she loved.

we adjourned to the boudoir as we both had to wake up early this morn. ashley is a perfect angel at dawn. such a natural beauty. she chirps good morning. she sings little melodies. she clears the tables of wine bottles and taco shells before i can even get out of the shower. its sorta like dreaming. she pulls a brush through her hair and the glitter is activated. we drove to my office this morning and first i wanted to fill her tank with some gas and i swear to you, this hooker is in the mini market at the gas station, and she says, "honey, would you mind driving me down just a few blocks?" and i said that i wouldn't mind, but the girl who checks my caller ID might.

she laughed. the armenian behind the cash register laughed. the two mexican girls purchasing frappuchinos in their plaid skirts laughed.

then the armenian said that my pay pal credit card was denied. then everyone laughed again. except for the hooker.

and me.

the armenian said, "for you, tony pierce, i give you $12 gas on the house because you make me laugh so much." the girls gave me one of their frappuchinos and the hooker showed me her g string.

aren't you happy nothing in here is true?

   Sunday, September 15, 2002  
kill me now, tony.

not unless you kill me first.

i thought you were a gentleman.

gentlemen dont get laid, anna.

au contraire, i've known gentlemen.

betcha theyre not any more.

shoot me in the face, baby.

it's just tennis, honeybunch.

you have no idea how it feels.

to be rich, gorgeous, blonde, twenty one, and famous? sure i do. ive had orgasms.

it's terrible. losing. its the opposite of your joke. it's like being impotent. the goal is right in front of you and you cannot acheive it. and you never acheive it.

have you been drinking anna?


you should, you sound terrible. monotone. insane. youre twenty one. capriatti got it together, and what is she 40?

i look at bridges in a much different way, recently.

thats a mighty pretty plate they gave ya.

yeah, but the winner got a real ming vase.

youre kidding me.



i was thinking about elbowing it.

i woulda married you.


if it makes you feel any better, i found a guy who does what i do better than i do.

nobody writes like you.

nobody loses like you.

does that make me the best at something, or something?

only in a dumb way.

oh well.

are you gonna come to la and play at staples?

maybe, but probably not.

if you dont, lets go up to isla vista and get high.


stay away from bridges, second place girl.

stay away from the girls, my favorite boy.