tony + mary!
busblog at gmail dot com

nothing in here is true


   Saturday, May 03, 2003  
today may be a good day

to wish karisa a happy birthday
its raining here in southern california. its midnight. its friday. its wonderful.

rode the bus in the rain after work to karisas favorite bar, not because karisa was going to be there, but because it was a block away from where this hot chick works.

she and i spent a lot of time together about a year ago, and then things ended with a slam of my back door.

just like all the women in my life this one was smart pretty funny incredible and successful.

xxx body xxx eyes. she resisted me, then fell for it, then we fought, then it ended.

the other day she told me that she had started reading my blog again, so after a few emails i asked her if she was still with her dude, and she said as a matter of fact she wasn't, so i asked her if we could share a little drink together, she said she would like that.

all of this surprised me because my memory of her was that she didn't like me, my lifestyle, the way i kissed, the way i was intimate, my hollywood mansion, my malibu beach house, my flying car, my taste in music, or, shall we say, my shoe size.

nothing in here is true.

still i was excited riding the bus to The Rendevous on las palmas, so much so that i cell phoned her ass to tell her i would be nine minutes late.

arrived, she was waiting, we embraced. she sat on one end of the booth, i wanted to sit on the other end but the springs on that end were so worn in the cozy dive bar that i was forced to sit closer to the young lady.

after a few rounds she began telling me that she had changed completely since we last met.

she told me that i was the reason that she had broken out of her shell, why she had finally allowed herself to live her own life, that i had inspired her to truly be herself and do the things that she wanted.

it was a really great story.

then she told me that she started a blog and began writing the day after we stopped hanging out, and that now that it has been updated regularly for a while you can see how she has grown.

all the flattery she dished my way while weaving this tale was making me grow.

i waited for her to tell me something bad, but she never did. infact she said that she loved coming to my homes. she loved being with me. she would come home buzzing and her friends would accuse her of being on drugs.

i was so happy and relieved to hear these things i couldn't stop smiling.

she told me some really personal things that i wish i could reveal here, but, lets just say those things made me smile that much more.

then she told me that i always write how i cant believe why all these great things happen to me, and she said that i should stop being surprised, that the key to my success is that i don't judge people, and girls feel liberated by that, and therefore let their hair down.

she said im girls gone wild in slippers.

and even though i hadn't planned on doing it, i leaned in to kiss her

like old times

like we did last summer

but this girl wasn't about going backwards anymore, and smilingly turned her head away giving me full access to the jugular

which i kissed


like id never been there before.

sahalie + sharkbitten + instant gator

   Friday, May 02, 2003  
caption this, please

lets talk about people who leave anonymous negative comments on blogs for a minute or two, since thats all the time they're worth.

what fucking rock do these people crawl out from under?

it's a comment box on a blog, folks. if you have something negative to say, why is it that you're too fearful to leave your real name and a homepage and/or email address?

are you afraid i will track you down and email you a virus? are you afraid that im going to track you down and email you and call you a fucking dipshit?

im calling you a dipshit now! and not even for your opinions, but for your cowardace.

i barely write back the penthouse models who write me weekly and tell me that im the fucking shit. what an ego you must have to think i'd waste my time arguing with you about a comment that you left on my stupid blog.

its a blog!

the reason that i sign my name and homepage and email address on the comments that i leave on other people's blogs and websites is because im not ashamed of my beliefs. i am strong enough to back my words with my name. i am courageous enough to have some imbecile email me back, if he so chooses, if he disagrees with my objection.

and if bro wants to start a little flame war with me, guess what, i'll just hit delete. i got no time for flame wars. im no longer in junior high. this aint no bulletin board.

plus the email addresses i usually use go to my spam account

fill that box up as much as you want, dungeon masters.

the comments section of this blog, for all of you who dont know, is set up primarilly for people to tell me how fucking killer i am.

52. Michael C.

if you choose to disagree with me on my dumbass opinion, have the nads to leave your name and/or webpage and/or email address. i promise you i wont email you back. but if you have a website, i might look at it to see whatever opinions you have.

you can disagree with me about the commander and thief, that doesnt mean that everything you stand for isnt complete bullshit. you, for example, might have excellent taste in punk rock music. you might have design elements on your site that make me keep on coming back for more.

the least you can do is have the decency of the least of all of us for even drudge, as much of a republican houseboy as he is, dirty kneepads and all, has the decency to put his name behind his links and statements and lies and exaggerations.

i am seriously considering making the comments open only to those who have legit email addresses, or webpages, or even names.

but what i probably will start doing is just deleting the anonymous ones.

even though that goes against the freedom that i so love about this country. the freedom where even spineless idiots have a voice.

im just not so sure i want this sacred page to be their pissing floor.

matt + matt affleck + ken sings
caption this, please

   Thursday, May 01, 2003  
when i grow up i want to be president.

i'll cruise around the country a few times tasting the local beer. and i'll ring the church bells. cuz people like crazy presidents who like ringing church bells.

id duck into mtv all the time and tell the kids that they aren't rocking hard enough, and i would turn to whatever pretty boy is holding the mic and i'll say who's your generation's led zeppelin, boy? and he'll smile and listen to the people gasping in his earpiece.

and id get to blow shit up and dress like a faker and lie and bullshit the world and get paid doing it.

and if any of you motherfuckers even say shit to me even if i fuck up, i want you to remember how you've treated george walker bush who has suckered you into thinking that $1.89 a gallon for gas is a bargain.

you, who called the last one Slick.

i cant believe how many unemployed and underemployed smart people i know.

i want to not have to find bin laden, not have to kill saddam, not have to be smart, and not have to have anyone smart around me.

i don't want to have to be responsible for the stock market, or education, or crime, or terrorism, or anything.

but i do expect to take credit for winning a "war" from a country that we've been defanging for the last twelve years, after we blew em up good the first time.

infact i only want to fight wars against countries where the armies wave white flags and hug my troops in their dusty sandals.

i don't want any of you saying shit about my drunken daughters or read my lips father who traded arms for hostages and also fucked the economy.

first thing im going to do when i become president is legalize some drugs and abolish the designated hitter.

if the fcc is still around i'll abolish that waste of tax dollars before the champagne at my inaugural gets flat.

i would not hide behind children like a coward on big issues that concern adults, titties on tv being a lessor one but definitely on the list if for any reason, symbolism.

misidentified email would be ridiculously illegal, with outrageous prison terms if the first 50 lines of the email didn't scream SPAM in 36 pt times roman bold. yes you have the right to get your message to people, but you don't have the right to fill the internet with penis enlargement scamolas and pictures of Barnyard Fun for our children to accidentally see.

id put pete rose in the hall of fame, and id put ticketmaster out of business, if not jail.

every child would be issued an electric guitar.

and i fucking swear to you, if any of you even say a word im going to remind you that on may first two thousand and three when the washington post and abc news asked 1,105 americans if they thought the country was going in the right direction, the majority of them said yes.

im expecting you to give me that sort of support.

especially when the assassination attempts begin once i start taxing the rich.

and i will tear down the lights in wrigley, and i will melt them down

and make public urinals from all of them.

alecia is now legal
fuck the pick n roll, fuck the bounce pass, fuck the set shot, fuck the underhand free throw, fuck greg ostertag and jeff hornasek, and fuck utah for keeping the name the Jazz after they got up and moved out of new orleans for salt lake.

the utah jazz is the example for mediocraty in sports, and even though jerry sloan was a chicago bull when i grew up there and i went to his basketball camp, and he took a picture with me, and autographed it, fuck jerry sloan for not doing what it took to adjust to magic's showtime lakers, mj's triangle offense, the twin towers in san antone, or the new look lakers with kobe and that other guy.

bloggers all over slc should be raising their fists in unison while drinking coca cola and denouncing the stockton and malone era with a hearty fuck you.

my (legitamate) children will never pretend to be the mailman rolling off a high screen in the driveway of our home awaiting a pass as they head for the hoop, and i will be glad. what they will do is walk backwards from the charity stripe in measured steps so that they can attempt a slam like mj.

what they will do is practice their baseline 360s like kobe.

what they will do is pretend to win back to back titles like the admiral Dream.

the only time they will even mention stockton or malone is while taunting their younger siblings who theyve just defeated, mercilessly.

i dont have anything against the good people of utah, dont get me wrong.

some of my best friends are losers.

i do have a problem with owners who see their future hall of famers aging and do very little to help them get the ring that they sorta deserve.

how is it that the dallas mavericks were able to build the great young team that they have in only a matter of years? dumb luck? i dont think so.

couldnt the jazz have gotten some of the clippers that donald sterling was so happy to unload year after year? how come michael wasnt given the royal treatment to join the jazz the way he joined the wizards? why is elton brand playing at staples instead of the delta center?

when you have two superstars who have done nothing but bring class (except for the lame AIDS ignorance that malone spewed when magic announced that he had HIV) and style and grace and muscle to your hapless little team for nearly 20 years, there comes a time when you should feel like you owe them a little loyalty in return via free agents or trades, cuz lord knows the jazz hasnt been able to draft smart in a long time.

here's their first round picks over the last two decades: 2002 -- Ryan Humphrey, Notre Dame; 2001 -- Raul Lopez, Real Madrid (Spain); 2000 -- DeShawn Stevenson, Washington Union HS (CA); 1999 -- Quincy Lewis, Minnesota, Andrei Kirilenko, CSKA (Russia), Scott Padgett, Kentucky; 1998 -- Nazr Mohammed, Kentucky; 1997 -- Jacque Vaughn, Kansas; 1996 -- Martin Muursepp, Kalev Talinn (Estonia); 1995 -- Greg Ostertag, Kansas; 1994 -- None; 1993 -- Luther Wright, Seton Hall; 1992 -- None 1991 -- Eric Murdock, Providence; 1990 -- None; 1989 -- Blue Edwards, East Carolina; 1988 -- Eric Leckner, Wyoming; 1987 -- Jose Ortiz, Oregon State; 1986 -- Dell Curry, Virginia Tech; 1985 -- Karl Malone, Louisiana Tech; 1984 -- John Stockton, Gonzaga.

nice job losing, jazz, now that you have lost your anchors you wont have the misery of losing in the playoffs year after year after year, because you wont make it there any more.

beta blog + hot mass girls + wKen show
howard owens is a good man. anyone who keeps score at a ball game is definitely okay with me.

he also plays really good music in his car. last night we heard curtis mayfield's greatest hits. it was super great. last time it was the new johnny cash record.

howard's also got some secret plans he's working on that im terribly jealous of.

thanks to howard's generosity i got to formally meet steve smith from smythe's world, got to hang out with my buddy matt and my pal basart (who i think has a web site, but im not sure if it's open to the public).

we talked about a wide variety of important topics such as taxing Indian gambling, who the Dems need to nominate to beat Bush again next time, and the importance of laws that actually reflect the real beliefs of the taxpayers and not the made up morals of politicians who say certain things and pass certain laws not because they believe them but because they think they need to say those things to get re-elected.

i had a super dodger dog, nachos, and a diet coke.

we got to witness odalis perez pitch a complete game shut out.

i will forget the fact that dodger manager jim tracy took odalis out of the game with two outs in the ninth.

welch stood up and said, "hey, tracy, boooo."

basart drank a budweiser from a plastic bottle.

i had a great time.

afterwards we all drank at the rustic where we met up with the beautiful emannuelle, the lovely charlie hornberger, the always energetic oswald q. tyler, and the leader of the free world mr. steve coulter who told me some juicy tsar secrets that made me extremely happy.

when i got home a college girl caught me on the instant messenger and typed some really nice dirty stuff and showed me some nudes.

the only thing that would have made it a perfect evening was if the cubs had won.

maybe next year.

howard owens + steve smith + nothing special web hosting

   Wednesday, April 30, 2003  
the auction ended last night for the who will get to be linked on the busblog for a month.

i am happy to report that the winner is Allan Karl of the for the sake of clarity - The Digital Tavern. congratulations Allan, and please, everyone go to his site and reward him with your attention.

ah, ebay auctions. i love them. this auction went on for a week which i think is enough time to scientifically study the value of a link from my page. My man Ric from Bitchen took the bidding to a respectable $20, and for that i think you. thank you Ric.

a friend said that i should allow those who bid to get linked at thier highest bid, but since that goes against eBay's policies i wont abuse their auction.

even though their stock continues to soar.

even though they wont let people auction things like offensive tshirts, and individual playboy mags, or things like wisdom teeth.

i was fortunate enough to meet the winner of this auction as i slurped down my pre Live from the Blogosphere panel discussion that i was lucky enough to be part of.

i believe we both enjoyed the house favorite Slippery Shrimp at Yang Chow in Chinatown, a restaurant i need to re-vist, and a dish that i highly recommend.

so many good things came out of that Blogosphere event. thank you Xeni and Reverse Cowgirl for inviting me.

and thank you all you nice people who i met there.

especially the young ladies who flooded me with little notes with their phone numbers scribbled on.

the bat signal just was illuminated.

back to work.

for the sake of clarity
god damn you half japanese girls you do it to me every time.

carlisa from pink cookies came over last night to watch the laker game with me, and eat pizza and drink beer and talk about, shit what did we talk about?

why am i bombarded with the coolest people to hang out with?

why do i get the best readers on the web?

why did the good people of Google slash Blogger send me a care package of love which i appreciate so much you dont even know?

why do barely legal girls continue to call me and chat with me and stalk me even though they have boyfriends and lives and new cars and development deals?

i dont understand any of this, america.

is it a test? are the angels and saints of heaven testing me to see if i will change if im surrounded by the incredibly cool, if it will get to my head, if i will start to think that i actually had anything to do with any of this.

its a little scary because in the dreamworld of college that i was blessed to attend, one of the lessons of good storytelling is to create a character, bestow unto this person all these great things, and then pull the carpet out from underneath him and ruin his life. tragedy. Job. mike tyson. oj simpson. etoys stock holders.

carlisa is the shit. shes sharp as a tack, has always had the best style. im dying to play her one on one cuz she had a hoops scholarship for college and im dying to see how my skillz match up with her.

i was the starting point gaurd on the jv team in highschool. oh yeah.

we were supposed to talk about tshirt ideas but instead we watched howard stern reruns and the laker game. how much better does that get?

carlisa is like many native los angelinos that i have had the pleasure of knowing: super mellow, super smart, totally well balanced and chill.

its almost as if theyve seen it all and instead of becoming negative and jaded about it, theyve bottled it all and turned it into some crazy wisdom and a wild independence.

welch and the whalens have this. i think it's awesome.

anyways, thanks great pumpkin for surrounding me with these badass souls. it blows me away just about every day.

long live blogger.

pink cookies + ev + jason + shellen

   Tuesday, April 29, 2003  
dear gay, bi, lesbian, and transgendered readers of the busblog, hello, my name is tony, i write little jokes.

i have no hatred for any of you, infact i love you all. not because im enlightened or open-minded, but because im lazy, and its easier for me to accept foreign behavoirs than it is for me to hate them.

i lived in san francisco for many years. now i live in hollywood. hard to throw a rotten egg out a window without hitting a gay in either of those towns.

i also wrote for a college newspaper where the boys liked to kiss one another to freak everyone out. only defense for such an action was to kiss them back with more tounge. strangely, the womenfolk were amused by this behavoir, and maybe a little turned on. also amused (but not turned on) was the California Intercollegiate Press Association who hosted the college journalism awards that we won annually, in dresses.

with that said, it's safe to say that im not a homophobe.

additionally, it is my belief that people should find love wherever possible.

me, i love to write. i love to experiment with language. i love to play around with ideas and concepts and slang, and hot buttons.

in 2003 you wont see an LA Times columnist say that something is "gay." Even if something is blatantly gay, you wont read a writer write it.

i think thats fucked up.

similarilly you wont see a writer say that somethings fucked up.

theres a problem there. we have a problem with language and communication. we are so politically correct these days we've painted ourselves into a corner where everyone is a victim to anything that comes out of anyone else's mouth.

when i see things that are fucked up or gay and i dont write it down and present it to you, im not doing my job as a popular blogger.

now, for all the racist, sexist, homophobe motherfuckers out there: hi, my name is tony. please stop being ignorant.

please stop being violent to people different than you.

please stop acting in such a way that people wont let me say that something is gay when i want to say something is gay.

cuz its all gay.

weisblogg + totally awesome
all this politically correct bullshit, is so gay. and it's so nineties.

tonight the lakers are playing. a super hot chick is coming over to eat thai food with me and watch it with me.

this morning an electrician came over to "test" the new electric box they installed the other day.

who the fuck checks shit like that at 8am?

so gay.

what if i was sleeping? what if i was writing? what if i was taking care of business in some way?

what if i was making coffee for the second hottest chick i ever met and i dont even know how to make coffee but im trying to impress her scandinavian bruised ass?

dude knocked on my door and asked me to turn on the porch light so he could see if he was switching off my lights, so he could mark it on the box.

i said fine and laughed.

chick told me that i laugh at everything. that everything is a joke to me. she said i reminded her of the black cosby-ish doctor on the simpsons.

i told her that my coworker said that i was not enough of a disgruntled employee at work.

i told her that he called me far too gruntled, as a matter of fact.

then my porch light when out and i yelled at the dude and he said thanks.

then the toast popped up and she drove me to work.

we got caught in traffic and some asshole started honking at the traffic.

totally gay.

i heart kate + true boy rocks + happy birthday katie's boyfriend
today is the last day of the i will link you on my blog auction.

the winner will have his or her blog or web site linked in the upper left where you see "no creativity"'s link for the entire month of may.

if the winner does not have a blog or web site, and would like me to link something else, i will be happy to do so.

i dont care what it is.

how bad could it be?

if it was really terrible would it be a bad reflection on me? of course not.

similarilly, if it was a super cool blog or website, then people shouldnt look at me in a more positive light. but if you must...

as i lay my head down to sleep tonight, i see the bidding has reached $36. let me say that im impressed.

thats a little more than a twelve pack of mgd, i dont care how bad your local liquor store is ripping you off.

$36 is mighty close, however to the cost of an LA Metro bus pass, which is funny, because i have kicked around the idea of scanning my bus pass at the begining of the month and if anyone wanted to flow the $42, that they'd be linked for a month underneath the picture of the bus pass.

am i making any sense?

its nearly one am. my phone has been ringing off the hook. ive been watching my new favorite show on tivo, mr. personality.

this guy got lewinskied in the mens room by a hula girl and the next day monica herself wanted to judge him for the sole act that she is infamous for.

but oh to only be judged on personality and the opportunity to make a move in a dark basement with a hot bikini girl.

how far would you go?

of course you kiss her, duh, but what do you whisper afterwards.

id whisper, squeeze my arm if you want more

dirty girl


best thing about these shows is its a bright light on the sad fact that there are very few good guys out there, which makes balding busriding ebayers like me a little more comfortable in our mediocraty.

i read a lot of good blogs today, and one spoke of the possibility of throwing a makeout party, and i say throw it.

if only to give some budding romeo the chance to introduce himself to three blushing girls next to the record player so he can say and i will before the night ends make out with you and you and you

so get ready.

your favorite sorority girl + best redesign + not a slut + full of nothing + nobody

   Monday, April 28, 2003  
even though im a born again, and even though im a Christian minister, and even though im from chicago, im not homophobic.

but i do know when people are acting gay, and im not ashamed to call someone on it.

men do not discuss the sexiness of another man when discussing sports.

if they do, they are acting gay.

that is different than being gay.

there is a lot to talk about when discussing professional sports. the shape of the pitchers leg, in an amorous way, is not acceptable. under any circumstance.

even though the Bible is against same-sex love, i am not against it. in fact it's one of the ver few lines in the Bible that i have questions about, and confusion.

but i am not confused about what should not be bandied about when bsing about baseball.

girls have it easier. girls can talk about girls. girls can say that girls have cute outfits, how they look good, how their asses look good in clothes, etc.

men may think these thoughts, but if we say them, we are acting gay. and even though there is something fundementally wrong about this, too bad, its the cross we have to bear. in return we get to piss standing up.

similarilly we dont talk about ball players' buttocks, hairstyles, moustashes, muscles, pearly white teeth, cold blue eyes, upper body, lower body, bellies, voices, or lips.

we can talk about batting stances.

we can say mo vaughn has a big fat ass. but youre best bet is just to allow the obvious stay that way.

when in doubt do what harry carey would do.

harry wouldnt talk about mark prior's legs, or mo vaughn's ass, he would see a pretty woman and say, "miss chicago is in attendence today i see."

thats not gay.

i say this, of course, on a blog, on the internet.

gayest fucking thing ever.

nina + que sera sera + sane libs + id go with her
lest anyone be confused im feeling on top of the world. maybe its due in part to the girl next door and my drunken exploits on friday.

maybe its due in part to the dustiny thats going on on the northside of chicago.

maybe its due in part to all the nice comments that people leave me here day after day after day rooting me on as if i was a marathoner which i am running one legged like a do cursing all the way like im apt to.

maybe its just over due.

hot babe came over the other day wearing some sweet shoes, so dazzling that i sorta wish i had a fetish.

like most people i have my fetishes. i have a hand holding fetish. i have a fetish for girls with really high voices and sorta sultry low ones. i like accents too. is that a fetish?

i dont think i have any damn fetishes.

i dated a girl in college who only wore catholic girl skirts when she'd come over to my house. i gave that girl anything she wanted. she wanted me to take her virginity though, and i wouldnt do that. i still think you should love the person you do that with and i barely knew her.

all i knew was she knew what i liked and she wanted to get rid of it and she thought that i was the best man for the job and once again someone was wrong about me.

but not by too much.

i have a fetish for smart girls. i knew this girl who would talk to me about how she was upgrading her computer and it got me crazy.

i think im just crazy.

i know im crazy.

i want to be crazy.

all these people are talking about how great coachella was, im crazy to have missed it.

sevenblock + mouche + mcblogger
sometimes i get the sweetest email. voici:

i read your blog and the desire to become utterly fearless in my own writing is magnified 1000x.

baby, im so not fearless. if i was i wouldn't have to cower behind the nothing in this is true malarkey.

everything in this is true, sadly, but what is left out is even truer.

utterly fearless is a phrase ive never known. even in my best secret blog i held back because i knew one day i would show it to the person i was writing it to and she'd see me for the phoney bologna that i am.

if i was smart i would just switch over to a different url like renee' did this weekend. but then again im not hot blonde and the most talented sixteen year old in america. shit, im nearly four times her age.

if i was fearless id tell you my age)

this having a blog on a site with your real name on it is for the birds when it comes to being fearless.

if i was fearless i would interview my dick more.

hi lil tone


whats up?

ha ha, funny, i get it. why don't you shut your pie hole and bring back ashley.

now you know why i don't interview my dick.

problem with believing in possibilities is that i have the faintest hope that somewhere someone in a powerful position might want to actually hire me one day to do something like this for their media conglomerate and if they saw busblog uncensored their mind would be blown and they wouldn't want to even consider sending me an email, let alone hiring me.

if i was fearless i would have about a thousand resumes out there in the world. i would actually send a formal request to the la times. i would actually try to write in a way that is printable for public consumption.

even though reality tv has been allowed to break the rules of prime time tv.

even though the white stripes has been allowed to break the rules of pop music.

even though Chicago has been allowed and rewarded in breaking the rules of making movies.

even though the president of the united states breaks so many rules every week that he's ten times more punk rock than any real punk rockers ever were.

if i was fearless, dear reader, i would write about politics in an incendiary way so venomous... if i was fearless, i would cover sports.

if i was fearless i would have a girlfriend by now.

if i was fearless i would have remained a poet.

if i was fearless i would be a preacher.

if i was fearless there would be a 21 year old blonde girl's name next to mine on the mailbox.

if i was fearless this shit would sizzle, daily.

chuck olsen has a white stripes / conan segment + beck's blog + amy's blog + mc brown's photo journal from coachella

   Sunday, April 27, 2003  
as much as i like the laker girls, is it really okay to let them rollerskate all over the playoff floor at the staples center?

i want to chat with two girls tonight, but neither know that i want to chat with them. so hows that supposed to work out?

got motivated and cleaned the pad pretty well today. sometimes that will happen to me on a sunday. good thing, too, because karisa has two friends in from out of town and they might stop by after eating at pf changs and drinking at the rainbow.

the xbi had an independent company come in on friday and talk to some of us.

one of the questions was what do you like most about your job.

i said lack of paperwork.

i dont have to do reports, i dont have to do research, i dont have to do any damn projects, as long as i dont think about my work i dont "take it home" with me.

i just show up, strap on the helmet, and aim at the criminal element.

the interviewer said that she found that suprising because she was told that i was a writer and she would have thought that i would like doing reports and projects but i told her it wasnt true. i had done projects and written things for work in the past, at other jobs, and most of the people who read them didnt understand or like them, which can be disappointing when you put your heart into something.

the survey asked about vacation days, and sick days, and personal days, and the food in the break room, and health benefits, and spending plans, and i told them that none of that shit interested me.

i told them that i liked to work and when companies put the right people in the right jobs you dont have to spend so much time and money in all that bullshit, but the problem is companies put people who arent great in positions and then get stubborn about moving them into the right places once they get to know them.

you can have a perfectly good guy working in one cubicle for one department, but he's not so great at that job. and you can have another guy in a cubicle right next to the first guy, and that guy isnt doing so good at his job either.

and in any other galaxy they would just swap the two and see if it works, and odds are it would work, but on this planet there are reviews, and write ups, and people making stuff up, and feelings getting hurt, and talking behind peoples backs and all this crapola, and then there needs to be resumes printed, and interviews and meetings.

its exhausting just to think about.

me and my last girlfriend would work out our problems naked on a sunday night like tonight in our bed of love and still sometimes we couldnt work everything out.

and thats two people who truly love each other.

the interviewer asked me what my point was.

i told her that when you are doing things right, and you have the right person in the right place, they dont need a bunch of sick days, they just need a boss who is cool when the person tells them that hes sick.

she said life isnt like that.

i said i know.

she said, do you think youre right for the xbi?

i said, ask chopper one.

bunsen + steve + jennifer + litwack

views a convertible can give you

by my man souptree

brian: if you had a few more scantily clad women you'd be the howard of the blogs.
tony: difference is, i know these people.
brian: word

kitty bukkake just ran the boston marathon. whats kitty bukkake doing running the boston marathon.

she is from mass, and she is a marathon runner, i guess.

last year i knew four people who ran the la marathon. three were from mass and they were all girls.

sadly none of them allowed me to see closely the positive effects of marathoning on a young woman's physique.

the closest i got was the closest you got, which was last years picture of kitty with her nice medal.

you totally deserve a medal for running a damn marathon. especially if it does that to your body.

you know the problem with the tribune corp who owns the la times, is they forgot what they grew up with.

i grew up with mike royko. and if he was 109 years old and had hot friends, not only would he have a sweet blog on the chicago tribune, but he'd put up sweet pictures of his hot friends.

not only does the tribune corp not have a blog, but no way in hell would they 1) show sweet pics of their hot friends, 2) let some fool post at 3:21am on a saturday night after a second drunken night with the girl next door, or 3) let him type bukkake.

sad thing is, if i did have a blog on the la times, it would be so hard to write because i couldnt type bukkake even though thats what la times readers would probably like to know.

me, i want to know everything. i scour the web in all of my free time. imagine if there was something interesting and worthwhile every damn day from your hometown newspaper.

in all of los angeles, i pass the newsstand and the times looks up at me and i look down and i say in all of los angeles, this is the best that you can give me?

met this hot chick at the ivar last night. we stared at each other because we thought we recognized each other. turned out she lived next on the next block. next door, practically.

probably the hottest chick in the whole club and there she was talking to me and sitting back on the couch like she actually wanted to be there.

she was doing 151s and coke and la may be my lady but baccardi is my baby.

did three, no problem. had two beers. we laughed. i smiled so much it was like i had no other expression.

she went outside to smoke and we started making out

as an experiment, thank you.

i have this theory that if you think a girl is hot see if you still think that way after she kisses you with smokers breath.

sometimes they retain their hotness.

tradegy struck this morning, however, as i realized that i had no more memory about the evening than that smokers breath experiment.

and there being a secret balcony upstairs at the ivar, which leads to the roof

which leads to please let there be on in my wallet

which leads to thank you for being there

then no more memory. then quick flash of me tossing the used one by a swirly vent and her taking pictures.

then her friends limo then jack in the crack curly fries then thank you limoman

then my floor then my hallway then my bed but just places memory, thats all you have?

ah yes and the condoms.

all my brain seems to worry about when completely wasted is birth control.

i dont think any music was put on the boom box. i dont think any candles were lit.

you know how sometimes you might be dreaming and that person changes into another person.

did i call this girl by the wrong name, did i say anything lame

i wanted to ask her all of these questions today when she came back but she was with her friend and they both got me drunk again and all we did was laugh and tell ghost stories with the lights off like dorks.

while having a breath holding contest, her friend barfed which is usually a buzz kill, in the dark, at least at my place.

so the one chick took her limo back to the valley and the neighbor walked herself back around the block.

and heres something else you'll never see in the la times blog

and her momma deserved a medal for making that girls ass

kitty bukkake + no creativity