crazy thing is, most of this is verbatim

hottie23: My lazy Scandinavian ass just woke up.
luckiestmanalive: what time did your sweet ass go to sleep?
hottie23: I stayed up making out with a german guy who was like... 6'5.
hottie23: um. 8 this morning.
luckiestmanalive: nice
luckiestmanalive: was it fun?
hottie23: Have you ever had someone whipsper that you're their dirty fantasy in a German accent?
luckiestmanalive: nine
hottie23: it was fucking great
luckiestmanalive: did he have a big
luckiestmanalive: tounge?
hottie23: yes
luckiestmanalive: was it no nonesense and rigid?
hottie23: no, there was plenty of nonsense
luckiestmanalive: do you know i love you?
hottie23: yes I love you too
hottie23: I almost had sex with him.
hottie23: but
hottie23: I didn't.
luckiestmanalive: you dont have to save yourself for me any more. i�ll never get out there.
hottie23: I know I know. That guy would have hurt me, though.
hottie23: he was scary.
luckiestmanalive: ouch
luckiestmanalive: i thought you liked it rough
hottie23: I do like it rough.
hottie23: I love it.
hottie23: when he pushed me around I was losing it.
hottie23: but his dick was way too big for me to have slept with him.
luckiestmanalive: no wonder youve never been with a black guy
hottie23: haha
hottie23: I couldn't even get my hand around the damn thing.
hottie23: seriously.
hottie23: it was very fucked up.
luckiestmanalive: this girl i know was hot for a guy like that, and he said, just breathe right.
luckiestmanalive: and it worked.
hottie23: it would have been like fucking a mag light or something
luckiestmanalive: did he cry when you said no?
luckiestmanalive: i would have.
hottie23: I didn't say no.
hottie23: I just restrained myself
luckiestmanalive: did you help the poor guy out at all?
hottie23: I helped him out
hottie23: and then� oops
luckiestmanalive: can you blame him?
hottie23: nope
hottie23: !
luckiestmanalive: what were you wearing?
hottie23: a plaid skirt
hottie23: and red tights
hottie23: a red zip up hooded cotton sweater
hottie23: and boots
luckiestmanalive: ooops
hottie23: hey, nadia is here i'll be right back
hottie23: i have to go let her in
luckiestmanalive: hey if i change your name, can i put this on my blog?
hottie23: of course
hottie23: i love you tony pierce
hottie23: brb
luckiestmanalive: i love you super hot plaid skirt wearing sexy girl
luckiestmanalive: next time take pics of that outfit
luckiestmanalive: for your pal tone.
hottie23: i've got some
luckiestmanalive: um
hottie23: i'll upload them later
hottie23: ooooo
luckiestmanalive: i heart you so
hottie23: i heart you too so

jarvis's post & troubling comments re: Reagans + frankenstein + of course i will be on virginia's radio show

# | |

caption this, please

# | |

Dear Tony,

My name is Anna Kournikova. I am writing you from Thailand.

Sabai dee reu?

Tony, I read your web-log a LOT.

I see you writing about me. I think it's cute. Thank you for all the compliments that you say about me.

I am in Pattaya today. It's really beautiful here. It's warm, the people are so very friendly. The food is delicious, and it's quite inexpensive.

You seem to like pretty girls. There are many pretty girls here in this beautiful country.

Sometimes I discover something that you've written and I think wow, this guy is great.

I only have a few minutes here in this Internet Caffe, so let me say this to you Tony Pierce, kop koon for being my fan, I am your fan too.

My husband also reads your print-outs and he laughs at you. I see you writing him insults, but we know you only say that for sport.

You're very clever.

OK, would you like to hear my favorite Thai phrase? I'm slow at learning them. Ready?

Krai kai kai kai?

You'll never guess what that means.

It means, "who sells the chicken eggs?" That's what they tell me. They might be pulling my leg.

Laew phob gan mai, Tony,

Love,

Anna

anna in china + espn.com linked this one last year + anna at thanksgiving

# | |

regis makes me happy. kelly makes me happy. bono makes me happy. karisas truck makes me happy. miss montreal who not only made beautiful lust to me yesterday and today and folded all my clothes as her pool threw the most amazing lights all over her barely clothed canadian curves.

and its friday. and the mta is going to vote today to hopefully end the strike. and the cubs havent lost in weeks.

and yet im in the most foul of moods.

how can that be?

let me tell you a little about what happened last night.

got home and wrote. then watched the lakers win in double OT. then this incredibly dirty girl called me and told me that she wanted me and i told her i wanted her too. then i drove over to the yuppie part of town where miss montreal lives and she greeted me at the door with a look that made me forget all my troubles.

marvin gaye playing on the jukebox.

candles burning, incense wafting, hot fudge slowly making its way down the banana splits.

how can the luckiest man alive be so unsatisfied with pretty much everything?

its been nice driving karisas truck, but that got old pretty fast.

its been nice not having my boss at work all week, but still the job blows.

its been nice having the lakers win every game this season, but theyre supposed to win every game this season.

i dont want to do shit this weekend, and the good thing is i dont think i have to do shit this weekend.

all i have to do is watch my damn tivo.

did i tell you my buddy eric cold busted with hooking me up with hacking my tivo? i bought two 120 gig hard drives and he installed them and did his thing on them and now i have a two-tuner directv 230 hour tivo.

it's lovely.

it makes me so happy.

that added with the new computer i have makes my life pretty much complete.

if only i had my old gas station job back. the one where i pumped gas for the stars and got hit on by young rich girls driving the cars their daddys bought them. who tipped me with their phone numbers.

once i dated these girls who were sisters...

mindy + katie + mental spigot

# | |

one of the nice things about living in hollywood is that theres people from all over the world here. which means theres food from all over the world.

the food that im most fascinated by currently is philippine food. specifically hollywood philippine food.

usually i get tricked into one of these magical places because from the outside they look like $1 per item Chinese places in that they have the buffet style pans of crap with the heat lamps drying everything out, a crazy woman sitting on a stool waiting to serve you, and a mexican chap in the back with an apron listening to the clipper game on the radio.

i like philippine places like this because its almost like an adult lemonade stand: people just can believe that youre buying something from them, and when you do they always smile and smile and sometimes they'll even shake your hand.

today they told me that i was parked in a red zone.

i was all, its karisas car, if she doesnt get a ticket a week the dmv will worry that shes dead.

one thing you can count on in philippine restaurants like this is you wont be able to recognize a damn thing other than the fried rice. call me nuts, but i like that. and youre bound to see a tray with an entire fish or two laying there with a slice of onion on it or a wedge of lemon or something unbelievably random like a hunk of sweet potato or some shit.

your best bet is not to ask what things are, it'll just terrify you.

is that deep fried?

yes, its turtle.

oops.

today i got little squares of beef with swirls of onions, fried rice, and little cubes of pork with sweet sauce on it.

i think.

they were all very nice and it cost me less than four dollars.

tonight last nights girl wants me to come back over to spend the night again. apparently whatever it was that i did deserves an encore.

am i gay if i just want to stay home tonight, watch the lakers, and work on this novel?

if you saw this babe youd say yes tony, youre gay. and then youd step on my toe.

i went over there yesterday primarily to see her, of course, but also to do my laundry. besides being beautiful shes also very rich and has a washer and a dryer back by her poolhouse. but i only got one load done, and that one barely, so this morning i had to leave my stuff at her place and go to work.

have you noticed that my job really gets in the way of my life?

smart as this girl is, i dont think she understands that im not the kickass writer that she thinks i am. i just cant sit in her den and knock out pages for the novel with a snap of the fingers.

i need all my stuff around me.

i need the stereo on with the right music. i need the tv on. i need a few virgins fumbling with their restraints wondering if they will be sacrificed that night. i need my diet dr pepper because i probably am gay.

i need my thinking cap. i need my special rum. i need my munchies. and i need to be focused.

and there is nothing about this hot young woman that allows me to be focused on anything other than her.

i have to shower now and head on over there.

heres some kickass flash movies that i found thanks to aaron, eric, and viral planet

the end of the world + themeatrix + boohbah

# | |

dear bill gates,

let me write your blog.

richest man in the world and no one really knows anything about you.

i know you wrote a book, but who reads books any more? i sure as hell dont.

i read blogs. i think everyone reads blogs nowadays. everyone i know at least.

heres what we do. i move up to seattle. either i can live in that crazy huge house of yours or you hook me up with something downtown. then every day i get to shadow you and i write about it.

if shit goes over my head i'll say so.

11:45am, im sitting in the east campus and im in a meeting with bill and mohammed and opal and jerry, shits really going over my head but bill just cracked this super funny joke that i think he stole off futurama.

maybe you dont remember me, but i used to work for you very briefly. i was an outsourced employee for webtv and then when you guys bought webtv, i was an outsourced employee for msft. maybe you saw me at comdex. i was the guy right next to the porsche telling all the cameras about the new webtv plus.

5:09 pm, i challenge bill to three shots of 151, he talks me down to two cuz he claims he has to drive home. i remind him that one of the interns can drive us both home. so he says yes to two shots of 151 and a half a beer. we end up talking about the portland trailblazers and laugh and laugh and laugh. hes got a funny laugh.

sure i want to know about how smart you are, cuz i dont really really believe that youre as smart as you were lucky. but you did hold on to your head start so maybe you are smart, or maybe you got the smart people to work for you. and if you are that smart, i want people to know that the smart people can end up successful, cuz thats not how it always is.

and if youre lucky i want to go to vegas with you and find out how lucky you really are.

7:20pm, still drinking. we've sent out for cough medicine. bill says hes never had a flaming moe. i called him a liar and he took off his glasses and said right here! and dared me to a brawl. i think he meant it. i made a fist and three robots shot me with paralyzing darts and i froze for three seconds. he stepped aside and three totally different robots shot me with unparalyzing darts and i was able to complete my punch, missing, and fell on my face to a chorus of hoots and hollers. gotta admit, it was pretty awesome.

bill gets me a screwdriver and reminds me that hes the fucking man, tosses a peanut into the air and it nearly chips a tooth.

one thing i dont want to write about is money. money is the red herring in your life. its the fakeout. and im not interested. im far more intrigued by you as a person. someone who has great pressures, and a strange little monopoly that everyone likes to bitch about but no one is courageous enough to defect from.

i want to tell people about some of the cool projects coming down the pipeline. i want to tell people and show people that youre a real man with real issues and real concerns and real headaches.

being famous and powerful and smart and still pretty young and at the forefront of the biggest thing in this new millenium has Got to be trippy as all hell.

it needs to be blogged.

and that job would be worth it for me to leave the comfort of southern cal to go do.

but only for a year.

and if it turns into a book, i would want all the money to go to charity.

your pal,

tony

makeout city + flagrant + vodka pundit

# | |

best laid plans, my friends. let me give you a little tip about life, boys. dont tell a girl who likes having sex with you -- a lot -- that youre going to sleep over at her house and not have sex with her.

dont believe her when she says shes on the rag.

dont bring over your laundry, dont drink her wine, dont let her turn up the heat, dont dare her to wear something sexy, dont tell her that her lips look good shining in the candlelight, dont think that her roommate not being around doenst mean anything

and dont think that youre not going to get any even though youre trying to stay pent up for the dumbest novel ever.

and after she pulls out every secret weapon, dont hit the control > C buttons on her G4 so as to copy your sex book chapter post into your novel before you hit post+publish

because macintosh sux and control > C apparently means "take this chapter and dispose of it motherfucker... forever."

and here i used to like apple.

and here i thought it would be ok to write anywhere else other than in chopper one or the friendly confines of my walk-in closet at my bachelor pad. but oh i was wrong.

so wrong.

im wrong about everything.

thats the main reason i put the disclaimer up there a long time ago, and why i dont preach on sundays, and why i dont manage the cubs.

id be doubling stealing all the time, telling people the bible says you can smoke weed, and thinking i can blog from just any old damn where.

i dont know shit.

thats why the big wigs dont hire my black ass. they know.

showed the novel to the temptress last night.

she said it was poetry.

maybe thats why its taking so f'ing long.

i havent written a poem in forever.

the cub reporter lost his house in the fire + the southpaw + drop stones

# | |

tonight im not going to have sex with a super cool, very fun, super smart, big titted hot chick. but i am going to sleep with her. and i havent mastur-you know- in almost a week. and i have porn playing on my tv right now. and she is incredibly soft. and her roommate is gone. and she has a great bed. and i have like 100 condoms.

its an experiment in stupidity. the idea is to rile myself up so much while i write this dirty novel, that hopefully, as it gets written, it will get hotter and more crazed with each turn of the page.

heres how i got the date, since the kids always ask me how i do it:

Superhotbabe: did you leave yet?

dumbme: no
dumbme: im about to go in the shower

Superhotbabe: ok, are you sleeping over

dumbme: ok do you want me to?

Superhotbabe: well, its up to you

dumbme: actually its up to you

Superhotbabe: well it could be fun
Superhotbabe: I am inviting you
Superhotbabe: but it is up to you to accept

dumbme: i accept

Superhotbabe: ok

dumbme: maybe you should wear something sexy

Superhotbabe: you think?

dumbme: i need to be riled up as i write

Superhotbabe: hmmmm

dumbme: i dont need to be
dumbme: but i think it would be good
dumbme: for the art

Superhotbabe: you got it, now get in the shower

dumbme: can i put this chat on my page?

Superhotbabe: sure

dumbme: i'll change your name... slightly

Superhotbabe: ok

dumbme: thanks!

Superhotbabe: see you soon

dumbme: probably 915

Superhotbabe: ok

dumbme: do you want a burger?

Superhotbabe: come in and get a parking pass
Superhotbabe: no, i already ate

dumbme: ok
dumbme: do you need anything?

Superhotbabe: no, i'm good thanks

dumbme: k bye!

Superhotbabe: bye

there you have it, all my secrets revealed

for your ass.

bastard family + twisted fans + pressure zone

# | |

dear cheetah's strip club,

hi. my name is tony. youre my local gentleman's club and i would like to write a blog for you.

whats a blog? its a web page where i would document the day to day activities of your club.

dont worry, i would leave out all the monkey business and top secret stuff. and i would make up good junk to keep the kids from being bored.

why do you need a blog? oh man, im so glad you asked that!

i think you need a blog because the few times ive been there it was empty. that was good news to me cuz i got paid so much attention it wasnt even really fair, but thats not the way you really want things to stay do you?

maybe you do.

maybe its all a big front.

maybe its all just a little front. regardless, i think i could do this and do it right for you.

strip clubs are all pretty much the same. i know people will disagree but fuck them. what are the top three strip clubs in america?

theres the mitchell brothers place in frisco. theres scores in nyc. and then what... one of the places in vegas?

call me crazy, but a kickass blog about a hollywood hole-in-the-wall strip joint on hollywood blvd could help raise said club to #4 in the nation: on recognition alone.

think about all the tourists who come to LA. half of them are men. and half of them are unattached. maybe half of them would be interested in seeing some california girls dance around and take off their pants.

do a blog right, cheetahs, and when those men come to LA they will be asking directions to hollywood blvd. and not to see mann's chinese theatre, i assure you.

ok i dont assure you, but i bet ya.

i'll bet ya thirty grand.

pay me thirty grand over a year, let me show up at the club around dinner time and stay till close 5 nights a week and after six months if i havent increased traffic in that place cuz of a dumbass blog, then i will give you thirty grand.

ok, twenty grand.

ok nothing.

i cant bet you anything, im broke, but you know it would help.

and if you cant get me thirty grand, how about twenty and free drinks?

your pal,

tony

p.s. the kids tell me im a really good righter

ultrablognetic + a dog named clipper + zak + alecia made a photo essay!

# | |

man did the fit hit the shan today. we broke something so wide open, and all by accident. it is nuts.

i dont know how much blogging im going to be able to do today cuz the can of worms is a big can and theres lots of worms.

and its just as gross.

yuck!

please someone hire me. soon. please.

pretty please.

you know youre in the wrong job when, after you do a good job, a great job even, that you dont want anything to do with any of it.

imagine being a great bank robber and not wanting any of the booty.

its sorta like that. except im a helicopter pilot who fights crime and keeps the city safe for the good people of los angeles.

im writing my novel again, fyi.

a super hot girl sent me four topless pictures of herself. same girl who sent me the one the other day. i told her that for each picture she sent i would write one page of my novel.

so i wrote. it only took 45 minutes, and i still took a few smoke breaks. and i knocked out 4 pages no problem, and it was good, i think. and its cuz of her. so thank you mysterious exhibitionist from whereever youre from.

you either helped inspire something that will go down as the sun also rises of a new generation, or the hustler of novels.

for the record, im not enjoying writing this novel.

its really hard. im sure i will fail. im sure it wont be fun to read. im sure your opinion of me will change, but i do want to finish what i have started because i have a bad habit of starting projects and not finishing them and karisa is one of my heroes because she almost always finishes what she starts.

in her only marathon appearance, the LA Marathon a few years back, she tore her quad muscle on mile 25 and still finished it, bloody toes, cramped muscles and ripped ones. she had to finish.

i want to feel that way about things, but i dont even finish my baja burrito half the time, and that girl will not only finish her meal, but she will eat the ice, every cube, from her dr. pepper.

karisa called me today from mass. she was at a bachelorette party last night and she fell off her barstool.

whats cuter than that?

terrible beauty + spit circle + perotheus

# | |

i dont want to write this novel. its gonna suck. i dont want to make anything that sucks. plus, it feels like work. fuck work. wanna know why this blog has gone on for over two years, cuz its never been work. its always been fun. yes ive felt an obligation to do this sometimes, but not often.

fuck this book. i dont want to run any marathon. i dont even want to put together blook II for christmas. im a lazy bastard sometimes. and you know who i blame. i blame the rum. but what else am i gonna do. when i worked at the dot com, when i got home i would work on writing newspaper ads for the company, or i would figure out how to do something smarter, or i would go through resumes. i loved that place and i loved working around those people and for them.

i want to feel that way again. i want to do something at night thats worthwhile, and writing a bunch of dirty ass porn might be hot for some of the ladies ive shared the first few chapters to but page after page after page of sex is a grind. how many ways can a man write about humping? and im too old for that shit anyway. ive seen it all. ive done it all. everything on the hetro side of the menu, i guess. writing about it... cleaning it up... making it more poetic and more sexy.. big whoop.

at night i dont know what i want to do, but its not go do my home work. shit. if i was gonna do work after work i would still belong to that fratboy gym and by now id have some rad body for the ladies to climb all over. but who wants to be lusted over cuz of their bod. theres always a bigger badder bod around the corner. why join that dumb wet tshirt contest.

i want to be passionate about something. im not passionate about this sex book of filth. this one guy said that i could always try to develop it into a movie and i was like did you hear what the hell i said, i said everyone is pretty much naked like all the time and it ends in a fuck contest at a howard johnsons during a nympho convention before during and after a blackout followed by an electrical storm caused by an approaching tornado. ron howard isnt gonna direct that shit.

a pretty girl today said if she was rich she would pay me so i wouldnt have to work and i would just write this book and make good love to her all day, and then she sent me a naked picture of herself. thats two, la times, fuckers. jim murray never got *two* chicks to send him pictures of their impossibly perfect bods just for being jim murray. but fuck the la times.

if i ran the la times you know what i would do.

id sprinkle some hi's through the paper and pretend i didnt.

imagine youre flipping through the business section, just doing your thing and whats hi this right in the middle of a sentence. or in the gutter in the obits. or replacing the page number in the sports section. d1, d2, d3, hi, d5.

best little free gift you could ever give someone is an unexpected laugh. a smile on their face when they couldnt remember what there was to smile about.

look at that cute smile mr david letterman is sharing with the people of the world as he introduces his son harry joseph letterman to america.

priceless.

im glad to see dave smile. he's made me smile lots of times.

i hope this helps him lighten up too.

its ok dave.

really.

but im still quitting this damn novel.

check out mindy's halloween photo essay (scroll down a bit) + the academy + earth-info

# | |

cbs, you ignorant slut. how do you look yourself in the eye and pretend that youre not the dirty whore of the right after you cancelled your plans to air the mini-series The Reagans on your network because the bluebloods came out of the woodwork like ants from a burning log.

if drudge was capable of an erection you just gave him one. congrats, but the schoolboys are now raising their fists at you.

youre a dirty ho because you didnt pull it completely off the air, you just moved it to Showtime, your sister network, the ghetto HBO.

so youre not saying that it is unwatchable, unairable, and possibly slanderous, you're saying you want to appease the whiners and offend less (rich) people by showing it on a channel that nobody watches.

dont your knees hurt after all of this?

Les Moonves the prez of cbs, who Howard Stern on several occasions called a snake in the grass, is the man who green-lighted the project and who yesterday removed it from the sweeps week lineup at cbs this month because he agreed it was "biased."

pardon me, but if cbs was ever concerned about being biased, 60 minutes would have never lasted 60 seconds on the network, let alone 35 award-winning years.

fuck Les Moonves and fuck CBS. if either of them truly thought that their miniseries was unfair to the dying president who helped orchestrate arms for hostages, why run it at all - be it on Showtime or CBS? seriously, what's the damn difference? since when is it ok to smear someone on Showtime?

CBS didnt stand back as the Republicans gangbanged our last sitting president, so why would Ronnie and Nancy get special treatment?

because money talks, which is what makes you a whore.

you took money to get fucked

from a bitch.

fuck you cbs.

you protected ronald fucking reagan, a guy who said this when he was the actor-turned-california-governor, "A tree is a tree. How many more do you have to look at?" 1966, opposing expansion of Redwood National Park.

who called a peace loving hippie someone who "looks like Tarzan, walks like Jane and smells like Cheetah."

who flew to Santa Barbara in 1970 and went to Isla Vista and called the vietnam protesters "cowardly little bums."

and lets not forget these gems from the Gipper:

"I would have voted against the Civil Rights Act of 1964." Los Angeles Times, June 17, 1966

"Fascism was really the basis for the New Deal." Time, May 17, 1976

"...the moral equal of our Founding Fathers," describing the Nicaraguan contras, March 1, 1985

and then theres all that business about sending our country into that nasty recession that only Clinton could pull us out of (and which only Bush could send us right back into)

and the "just say no" war on drugs that led kids to turn their parents in to the cops

and the sleeping on the job

and the lying

and the lying

and the lying.

fuck you cbs, you had a chance to stand up to the immoral minority and you bent right over for the man.

and survivor sucks this year too.

george must go + moxie + sk smith

# | |

anna kournikova called me. she wanted to know if the entry i wrote about her was really about her or was it fiction. her accent is still pretty thick, or she was eating something, but i kept asking what?

she kept saying fiction, fiction, but it sounded like something else entirely.

we fought like crazy and she hung up on me.

then she called back and asked if i had hung up on her. i said no, that she had hung up on me. she didnt believe me. nobody ever believes me. people believe me when they shouldnt.

got a little call from the fbi the other day. wanting to know about the xbi.

i hung up on them.

fuck them.

they called back and asked me if i knew i had just hung up on the fbi.

i was all, rule number one of the xbi, if the fbi calls, hang up.

then i hung up again.

went to the tsar show last night. kristin convinced me to go. thanks kristin.

have i told you how much i heart kristin?

i do.

if i was a young frat boy at the university of oklahoma, i would wipe the crimson and cream from my face, i would stand outside kristins sorority house, i would hold my boom box high above my head and i would play the new tsar cd in the rain in a trench coat.

i have a new favorite tsar song cuz of last nights show (pictured), it's called Wrong.

how whalen doles out these anthems is beyond me.

he was all uptight about the monitors, about the lack of bass, about the mix, but everything sounded beautiful.

me marc brown and brendan stood in the front and rocked out cuz thats where it was the loudest.

i took pictures but they never turn out the way you want them to.

i learned some things about my flash in relation to smoke machines.

i met two very nice people who are on a three month road trip and asked if they could take a picture with me for their blog.

maybe they'll remind me what their url is and i will link it.

tsar are the gods of hollywood rock.

im glad i left the house.

splink is on the road + get well matt + inkgrrl

# | |

sometimes the devil will get me in a headlock and i forget its the devil, i think im fucking something up.

two hot chicks followed me home from the store tonight.

one was invited, a sweet little el salvadorian number from the ninety nine cents store.

i forget her name but there was an x in there somewhere near the middle.

shaved eyebrows with a tattoo eyebrow making the most unnatural curve.

unbelieveable spanglish, long fingernails, tight body, and a turbo saab that her last boyfriend gave her before he found out that she was a cashier at the ninety nine cent store.

i was feeling a little depressed after work today because it seemed like i had been in a fight with every damn one and i wasnt even honking at the grocery store strikers and raising my fist any more.

went up to the smelliest fucked up homeless woman tonight with four ones rolled up and out and asked her if she had eaten dinner and she said, no thanks im doing something here and turned back at the pigpen-dirty wheelchair that she had been sitting in and readjusted the blanket that i believe she was pissing on while standing up

and somehow satan had convinced me that i shouldnt go to the tsar show tonight, reminding me that i hadnt written my five pages to my novel yet, how i hadnt written five yesterday neither and how only i would refuse the company of a big titted hotchick who had been giving in every way to i could remain pent up so i could write said novel but then not write but four pages and then peter off

like a bitch.

say what you want about the president of the united states but he never let the devil talk him out of doing something, even if he shouldnt be doing it at all under any circumstance.

god i hate the president of the united states.

there always has to be an asshole in the mix. doesnt there.

my true love called me today.

thats how you fight the devil.

my true love called and told me the most wonderful things.

this other girl at work she told me the most romantic story. a tale about a young black woman and the man shes in love with, a pakistani man whose parents want him to marry a pakistani woman.

my work has me On like thirty percent more than before.

i have almost no free time.

the type of crime we fight is so widespread right now that its like an infestation.

of course i need to go see tsar.

if only just for an hour.

then back to you.

then back to the book about hot sex between kick ass people.

one who works at a ninety nine cent store in hollywood california

and one who is so fucked up

its never boring.

<3 kristin <3

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dear mariah carey,

hi. i love you. problem is you got married and you didnt get divorced cuz of adultery, so sadly we cant make beautiful love according to the good book.

never mind that. whats important is you need a blog.

i know you have tons of web sites made by people who adore you, but you need a handsome young man like moi who could follow you around and spin your life into the butterfly charmbraclet dream that it is.

youre probably the most beautiful soul singer out there right now, and youre definitely the best singer under 30. and youre the number one best selling female singer of all times.

so whats up with not having a blog?

dont you think your lambs want to know what your day is like? dont you think your critics want to know how hard you work? dont you think the world could use mariah updates three times a day and a place for you to put your messages of love from your lips to our ears each and every time you even think about it?

of course.

im the number 492349057435798 selling male singer of all time and i can let people know how i feel about anything at any time. why cant you?

for example, here it is 6:22pm, its miller time, its time for me to drive home in karisas truck and prepare for a late night with Tsar, the finest rock band in the usa, and if i want to say my nutsack itches i can say it mariah.

if i want to say fuck bush fuck bush fuck bush, i can.

if i want to thank the sweet redhead who told me i could be her boyfriend if she could be my girlfriend, then i can say it.

if i want to not thank ashley for being mean to me on the phone while i was flying over the greater los angeles region in chopper one, i can say it.

dont you see the power and the glory that youre missing out on, mariah?

dont you see that the most lovely songstress to grace our lives in a long time needs a little more exposure, the right sort of exposure, the best sort of exposure?

cant you see that the book on mariah carey doesnt need to be written by the naysayers who wouldnt write a nice book about you anyway?

let me write that story. let me show the world that xtina and britney are just little girls compared to you.

let me present the facts as they are, big and bold and juicy and full of soul.

let me remind the world why you are here and why you arent going away and how youre not a step away from playing vegas forever like celine, that youre as viable now as you ever were, if not more so.

let me show pictures of that womanly torso.

your biggest fan,

tony

bloopy + bing + blinky

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special surprise belated birthday greeting from... MEESH!

Tony,

well long time no write, it is monday,

still recovering from Halloween,

certainly the most decadent chocolate filled holiday here in Aspen, no doubt.

I crossed over to the other side that night, for real.

The mushroom cloud exploded over Aspen and lingered for the following 24 hours or so, as we all just scratched our heads and nodded knowingly to each other. Woah.

(I'm the gothic looking one, yeah duh, and that is my milkmaid friend who just moved here from Hawaii, the new freshman class has just arrived in Aspen and I can't wait to corrupt the new groms)

The first snows began to fall yesterday, and right now the top of the mountain looks like a luscious chocolate brownie sprinkled with powdered sugar, and I can't wait to EAT IT UP!!!

Planning a trip to Whistler in 2 weeks so I can poach the stash of some early powder as well as smoke masses of B.C. buds. hee hee

Super sorry I missed your bday, hope it was one to remember, mine certainly was aaaah 23. Picture attached. I'm in the blue!!

Also some insane pics of fall here.

I never experienced anything like that.

It was like someone put a couple hits of acid in my coffee each morning, the trees the mountains, on fire with golds and reds.

I am convinced that there is not one bad season here.

write me when you have time and know that someone in Aspen loves you!!

muuuuuuaaaaaaahhhh,

meesh

interview with meesh + nice mention of meesh + mas meesh

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i dont want to be inspired by puff daddy but i have to be inspired by puff daddy.

either the Diddy Does the City was the greatest rope-a-dope since Dubya took office, where we thought that no way could this fool pull off what he's fixing to pull off, or both of these men are the smartest motherfuckers in showbiz.

Bro was partying in the Dirty South on my tv weeks before he was supposed to run that shit yesterday. he had a rum in one hand and a vodka in the other. his man friday was dancing like he just didnt care, the young girls were crying when the diddy was signing autographs in the club, the mic was handed to him and he said ho and they said ho ho right back. fool had a hangover the size of a georgia peach and he had to tell his crew that he couldnt work out that morning.

and still he got up yesterday morning, got his fat black ass out there, and he ran 26 point whatever miles and finished the damn new york marathon while all the cameras waited for him to fail.

i hate to do it but im going to have to give my man props.

his goal was to beat Oprahs 4 hour time. and he barely did it. his goal was to run and raise a million bucks for three charities, one being much needed funds for four NYC public schools. fucker raised two mil.

what i liked about the MTV special about him training for the marathon was it showed him eating too much, canceling training sessions, being an ass to his assistants, and even his entourage talking shit about him to his face and in the camera.

at one point he really wanted some fried chicken and everyone said nooooo! and he picked it up and ate it and everyone screamed.

then this dude said, Diddy Eats the City.

classic.

in another scene, the Bad Boy records president is sore from his training, so he slides into his tub and his people dumped buckets after buckets of ice into the tub to his protests.

let me talk to you. let me TALK TO YOU, he pleaded and they stopped putting ice in his tub.

and then they let him talk and then they dumped more in there.

and then one final cube.

it was funny.

im glad he got his money.

rock on soul brotha, now do us all a favor and spend as much time and effort on the music

the music

as you do on the hype and the clothes and the honeys and the money and the bling and the bling and the manservant and the who ha.

thank you.

evan + evan + goose

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its cold here in LA. my pal amy says its gonna be 77 in NYC today, so let me ax you, how is that fair?

my ass had to unfurl the electric blanket last night. i also had to put the mexican blanket where the door should be that would connect the living room with the kitchen, then i had to put on the space heater.

all so i could not write my sex novel.

it was that cold, america.

today is novembrrrr third. ive only writen four pages of my thing. and i have to fight crime today. and i have to go see my favorite band tonight, and this mysterious chick who i dont know at all wants to find out if she should be a sex phone operator girl on me after the show.

i gave her my home number.

i dont know why i did that.

karisa does it all the time and somehow the crazies dont bother her too much. speaking of karisa, she called me last night from western mass, from the house that she grew up in, from the room where she lived as a kid. how cute.

sadly i couldnt talk to her because i was on the phone with my buddy solomon who was fixing my computer for me via pc anywhere and my cell phone. it was classic. it was creepy. it was wonderful.

it was the year two thousand. finally.

anyway, now its still cold in LA, and colder in the offices of the xbi. i can finally fly my chopper thanks to the fires being out, but i still have a lot of paper work to do since everyone basically took last week off to help volunteer and keep the looting to a minimum.

so i have my blogger hoodie on like the homeless guy (pictured), and i have my apple juice, and my high speed internet.

and i have you.

thanks for being there, whoever you are.

all of who you are.

especially those who have been there for a long long time.

its been a fun ride so far and this shit hasnt even truly zoomed off into the stratosphere where it will be soon.

hendrix had to play bass in little richards band for a while.

eveyone has to pay their dues.

the homeless guy + eric case + kimbalina

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each time a new girl sends me a naked picture through the email or aim chat, it always startles me for a second.

and i always doubt that its really them.

everyone has pictures of someone being naked and who's to say that those pixels arent them.

and i know that one day i'll totally get punk'd by some asswipe pretending to be a hot chick who will catch me believing that some super cute girl from a faraway land would do anything for me because of something that ive writ or because of everything.

this girl is beautiful in a way ive never known. her english is really good which is remarkable, considering.

probably within five minutes of chatting with her i told her i loved her.

and she told me she loved me too.

and today i said what are you wearing

and she said a kiss me im irish tshirt and crotchless panties

and i said would you mind taking a picture of yourself and she said no problem and within a few minutes there it was.

and then a few minutes later there was a naked one.

dear la times,

nobody on your fuckin shit is getting hot swedish gradschool girls to get naked for them.

hire my ass for the blog you need to launch.

nothing is worse than failing to capitalize on a monopoly

it borders on laziness and disrespect

opportunity has knocked for you in such a way here in LA that it's laying on its back in the front yard and spreading and waiting and you come to the door with the guy chronicles and tj simers.

a good friend said it and its true and its sad: if the new york times launched a blog in december, the la times would have one in january.

and you call yourselves men.

best thing ive seen on tv was the other day when this guy was getting shot at and he was hiding behind a tree that was maybe five inches wide.

the frustration this gunman must have felt missing

and missing

and missing despite such a huge target behind this skinny tree.

people ask me all the time, how come youre not doing exactly what you want to be doing

what you should be doing.

and i think its that fucking tree in the way.

so improbable to be of any consequence in any way

but all the difference in the world.

get it together, times.

your pal,

tony

michigan state in full effect + chokey chicken + bored housewife

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my computer is still broke. so here i am in the relatively quiet xbi offices typing away to you because i love you.

and i havent felt this much love back in a long time. by long time, of course i mean days.

my man mist profiled me so nicely i dont even know what to say. nice pics too.

steph and lola say that im the only blog that they read every damn day! and for that i am rewarding them by stealing the pic of steph (right). thank you ladies.

jason g from blogger + google says that i am the buzzing and vibrant blogging super celeb that camila dumbulia says is missing in the blogosphere. gratzi.

the good doc searls was kind enough to quote me about my job offer to the chicago cubs and was nice enough to leave in my typo so as to keep it real. gracias, senior.

and even my man trevor from ten gallon hat made a photo essay documenting halloween in arizona, but although he took a picture of our girl alecia, didnt let us see what her costume was. trevor!

speaking of halloween costumes, ive just got two words for you melting dolls. yowza!

im also here at the xbi because karisa let me borrow her xterra for the week as she flew back home to stand up at her brothers wedding, and since i have use of her kickass vehicle and since my computer is broke at home, here i can write chapter two of my novel for november novel writing month blah bladdy blah.

i wrote chapter one last night while watching tv and playing playstation. i dont like writing out things longhand unless i have a great spiral notebook to write it in. and i couldnt find my spiral notebook that i got last year that has all these great skateboard stickers on it. but i promised myself that i would write five pages a day and at the end of the month id have a 150 page novel.

since ive never written a novel before and since im sure this one will suck, i have done a few things to make the experience interesting.

first it will be a novel of complete smut. it will be the dirtiest thing i have ever done and will probably ever do. it will include everything that i am scared to do as a writer and im terrified of future employers, lovers, friends to find out about me. of course it will be fiction but many times we write and are afraid that people will think that what we write is in the slightest bit true and then wont want to employ us or be our pals.

fuck that.

this is going to be the equivalent of Tarantinos Kill Bill which has been so critically and monetarily lauded that i even saw him on The View having his ass kissed by women who you wouldnt think would normally asskiss a guy who killed maybe 200 people in a film. mostly by sword.

at least that many people will be having sex in my novel.

and there will be drugs, satanism, drunk driving, people sending spam, cursing, poor dressing, unmade beds, lesbianism, indoor fireworks, bad grammar, dirty words, pop music, virgins losing their virginities, wild orgasms, orgies, alcoholism, petty politics, gun slinging, parallel parking, and double entendres like nobodys business.

and if that doesnt offend you i might even throw in some poetry.

im thinking about calling it 30 Days in the Hole, but i think of new titles almost every hour.

The Ho Who Loved Me

My Other Novel Is Way Better

Fuck Camile Paglia

Rush Limbaugh Sold Me Dope and then Showed Me His Schween

George Bush Is My Hero

Moby is a Dick

69 Ways To Say I Love You

Adults Only

Oprah's Secret Book Club Book

in order to keep sex interesting to write about every damn day for five pages a day i have decided that i will not actually have any sex during the month of November. sorry ladies. and that means none with myself either. sorry me. and i will force myself to watch at least an hour of porn each day just to work myself up.

hopefully the pent up anxiety will make itself to the computer and novel.

and hopefully all of it will be deliciously sexy.

thats the point after all.

wish me luck!

give anti your money so he can eat or smoke or drink. hes seriously broke. and i flowed the brotha some. so you should too.

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