Saturday, June 22, 2002
dawn is taking a poll on what fantasy she should write down for this blog, and more than a few women writers have asked me for an example, but fortunately a decent submission was sent in this morning by ms. svensa swenson of eu claire, wisconsin.
pizza boy came home from a hard day of delivering pies.
his teen exgirlfriend was busy doing teen things,
his busty other exgirlfriend was drinking with her coworkers on the wesssssside,
his cuban lust affair was through with him, the nba cheerleaders were in maui recovering from the grueling season, so he figured he'd immediately change into his pajamas, turn off the phone, sip rum and watch hbo.
david spade's "joe dirt" was scheduled to be broadcast.
as the microwave bell tinged that his frozen burrito was warmed, he heard a familiar knock at the back door.
a curvey tanned girl in her early twenties waved at the backdoor cam.
he opened the door, she came in, he didnt hug her she didnt hug him but in minutes they were on the couch
going at it.
just like they should.
pizza boy might not have been blessed with good looks, rich uncles or funky dance moves.
but he had been born with an uncanny memory of city streets and addresses
and an equally creepy way around a young woman's body.
she didnt seem to mind that he was in his red flannel pajamas, that the ball game was on the tv, that porn was streaming on the computer, or that he didnt offer her any of the steaming hot chicken nuggets.
she didnt even notice the thirteen tiny sauce bowls on the coffee table with variety of dipping choices.
there was hot mustard, bleu cheese, ranch, salsa, hot sauce, bbq sauce, mc donalds sweet and sour, hunt's catsup, soy sauce, zancau garlic paste, honey, lemon pepper, hummus, and what nugget isnt tastier than with a dab of ecstacy.
which our writhing guest was obviously in the throws of.
hot fudge was ready.
now this was a girl who hated body hair in the same way pizza boys hated rodents.
she had beautifully long hair hair, perfectly plucked eyebrow hair and three curls that our hero was up to his eyebrows in.
thanks to the internet, pizza boy had every great song ever recorded ever
stored in his sixty gigabyte hardrive which was connected to his only real extravagance, a two hundred watt mcintosh thx dolby home theatre whose speaker wires crept through all the walls of the small apartment including the far south wall where a pair of descretely placed infinity speakers hung beside the futon mattress of his hollywood crash pad.
she backed away and started doing things to him that will never be shown on national television
and he wondered why
he looked outside, it was the first night of summer, and he thought about all the things that he'd seen on national tv like death, lies, wars, tragedies, and wondered if he would ever see a young man and a young woman seriously get it on to a point where clothes were ripped off and clothes were pushed aside, and sounds were made, unmistakeable sounds, and both people were beautiful and said beautiful things to each other
hard and fast.
pizza boy knew he was the luckiest man in the world. he'd just gone to an astrologer who said that there was a good luck convention going on in his house. the astrologer said go to vegas, play every game there, play the lottery, smile at every hot babe you see and watch them All smile back.
and again the microwave tinged.
the girl returned with a second dish of hot fudge.
being that pizza boy was handcuffed
and gagged, he had a pretty good idea about what was going to happen next.
but as always, he was wrong
for, hark, what's this?
is that a knock at his front door?
only the mail man knocks at that door and it was now nearly midnight.
the girl gave the steaming fudge another stir and hopped up and skipped to the door, a blur of white cotton panties, little tennis socks with the fuzzy ball above the heel,
she came back holding the hand of her miniskirted
highheeled best friend
who'd always wanted to meet the world greatest
who couldnt take his eyes
off of her glittered
until her twin sister slammed the door, stormed through the apartment
clomping over the hardwood
with her cowgirl boots,
crashed past the two x'ing girls,
and ripped off his whippedcream covered
strawberry stained leather gag.
Friday, June 21, 2002
pssssst, what are your plans for the weekend, tony?
ah, thanks for asking.
well they are having that Summer Solstice Parade in Santa Barbara, and if i rented a car and drove up there, i have a sneaking suspicion that i could pick up fellow Gaucho Meeeeesh on the way and get her toasted on State Street.
But im terribly shy, so thats definately out of the question.
The Boston Red Sox are in town squaring off against the Dodgers at Chavez Ravine.
But I hate the AL and im still on the fence about this whole interleague thing.
Ashley has a few days off this weekend, and i could rent a car and visit her.
But she seems to be enjoying herself with the 3RD! gentleman caller of the week. Lucky girl.
So I guess I will sit at home and update my Links page and make this blog nicer looking, seeing as it will be gone in about three weeks, unless 58 new links appear magically.
By the way, can you believe what sort of company Jarvis put me in? Gracias Senior!
And I will probably finish Layne's "Dot Con" which I am enjoying immensely although the character Brendon D. Pierce Jr. disturbs me, slightly, since he is a blabber mouth stool pigeon frat boy who will probably be killed off in a gruesome manner.. one could only hope.
But I have laughed out loud from nearly every page. Which is quite an acheivement since I am a sullen reserved gentleman who rarely even picks up a book that isnt on the NY Times Best Sellers list.
Which Dot Con should definately reside.
I swear to you it's a great novel. Click the link quickly!
Anyhow, once i finish touching up my dumb page here, i will put out some fires and clean my shower.
happy first day of summer, america
ive got a lot of friends and lots of them write me emails and lots of their emails lead me to stuff that i end up writing about in this blog and some of the things that i write actually lead to changes in my life.
today i got lots of emails telling me how damn funny my previous post about the italian/korean soccer controversy was.
let me tell you this, readers, it's ok to post those things in the handy Comments section.
i know that you dont want to appear "stupid" or "lame" or "etc." but when people write in my Comments section i get very happy.
I gave you a little blurb the other day about Michelle in Oxnard. Michelle wrote me the other day to ask me my sign. I happily told her that I, too, am a Libra. I'm no expert in the signs, but i agree with what i have read that Libras have very low self-esteem. We can do magical tricks, we can communicate well, we're excellent lovers, and fun at parties, but everyone has their weaknesses and most Libras are burdened with the above malidy.
But we silently cope.
It's almost as though Confidence is a bucket, and my bucket has a hole in it.
Ashley is a gorgeous girl, fun, talented, smart, lovable, and i called her an angel yesterday because i met her just as i was breaking up with Chris after 5 years of Bliss and even though Karisa said that she would be my friend and keep me from being lonely, and even though all those NBA cheerleaders were available to date, and even though i had incredibly good luck on blind dates and etc., there was nothing better than having the undying adoration from the former teen princess.
constant loving touches, sweet chatter, declarations of admiration. all the things that others might say were so sticky sweet to cause cavities were completely fine with me.
people dont say that there is something mentally wrong with the bucket that has a hole.
it's merely a bucket that needs more water than the one that has no hole.
what can you do?
you can pray.
so what is my summer wish?
i want to have a dynamite summer.
i want to sleep beneath the stars with a hot chick, or two.
i want to be able to write to you, somehow, maybe here, maybe not here.
i want to go on that crazy rollercoaster at six flags.
i want a new job.
i wanna be published in a newspaper and make my mom proud.
i want to be confident for three days straight.
and i really want your summer to be great.
maybe you'll write about it too.
thats something id like for you to do.
arent you glad nothing here is true.
i'm glad we lost that damn game. america doesn't need soccer. we never have. it's been nothing more than something kids do during recess and immigrants play on sundays. kick the ball into the big net, euros.
hug each other when you score.
italy showed a lot of class when they lost to South Korea the other day thanks to Ahn Jung-hwan. Jung-hwan is a Korean who plays for a professional Italian club when the stupid World Cup isnt sending losers into a false nationalistic frenzy. after Jung-hwan headed in the winning goal to beat Italy this week, his Italian club said that his contract wouldn't be renewed. he had been fired.
he scored a goal by knocking it in with his skull, pisan. that's all.
you act as if this tournament means more than the Animalympics.
go back to making our shoes and sending your pretty girls over here so we can hop on top of them.
fix us up some bland pasta.
italy, you might have some pretty art, but you didnt invent pizza, venice is a freak show cess pool, rome hasnt been cool for a thousand years, and the only decent thing you make any more people cant afford: Ferraris.
go back to selling cheap leather and talking about Felini.
ive been to italy plenty of times.
all your men leered at my girlfriend's american bosom like they'd never seen titties before.
and after looking at your women, i can see you havent seen tittes before.
no wonder you run in the streets with the bulls.
no wonder you throw tomatoes at each other.
no wonder the Pope is polish. Even the dirty fakers in the vatican know that italy has lost it.
but life is beautiful, right?
all you need is a room with a view, si?
you run around with your slicked-back hair and your cappuccinos and your gellato and your jewelry and you pretend like its ok that you once ruled the world - even parts of africa (the easy parts) - and now you dont, but it's okay, who needs it, you've got firenze.
all you have, to borrow from layne, is shame.
fire the korean kid for using his head against you? what do you think he was in the game for? to help you?
you think he flew back home to korea, trained with his korean teammates, put on the korean uniform, stood up during the korean anthem, just so that if the ball came flying at his eyes that he'd miss it for your benefit?
it's a game. it's a stupid game. its a game you could teach retards to play within minutes. you could write the rules down on a ravioli.
go back to drinking your wine and feeding Pavarotti.
the only decent Italians are American ones, anyway.
but you know what, i'll take back what i said about you, cuz i secretly do love you.
of course i do.
and secretly you dont want to fire Ahn Jung-hwan.
what you want to do is hire him back and let him get booed every time his korean foot touches the ball.
your stadiums will be packed every time his team pulls up their shorts and takes the field.
all that passion you people swear that you have so much of will flow like in one of those nice operas that people tell me about.
sell his effigy at the games and burn it during halftime.
with your little cigarettes hanging out of your mouth.
but im serious, hire the korean back, or i wont take back what i said and i'll tell everyone that the Olive Garden is exactly what your food is like over there.
and i don't agree, but Sonny says you're acting like the French.
41. Get Your OJ On
42. Rallying Point
Thursday, June 20, 2002
ashley is the most jealous girl ive ever met. i find it endearing, in a way, most of the time.
the same way that i hope all my friends and loved ones find it endearing how messy my home is, how crappy my clothes are, how ridiculuous it is that i have no automobile, and how my memory is as reliable as a cell phone in the canyons.
but im crazy about ashley and that shouldnt be a surprise to anyone. everyone loves the daisy princess.
she pouts and cries and yells and is always there to tell me what parts of my blog and web site are incorrect. how i have ignored her Once Again, even after the poll overwhelmingly said that they wanted more, not less, of her on these pages.
she lets me know what a mistake im making with the girls i dont even dare write about on here.
she lets me know how much she misses me and thinks of me and tells me the things we'd do if id only rent a car and pick her up and wisk her away.
she is a naughty angel trapped in the body of a teenager struggling to escape into a world of barefoot walks through dandilion fields that culminate into wild romps that make the doves scatter and the sunbeams blush.
shes a whirlwind of affection caught in a rainstorm of apathy called downtown irvine.
shes as single as can be and only has eyes for me.
for the longest time ive been telling ashley that she needs to date guys her own age.
of course they wont be as talented and skilled and practiced and witty and marvelous and honest and romantic and amazing and humble or be able to shapeshift and juggle and ballroom dance, and cook, and rollerblade like me.
but you'll make due, i told her.
then the other day i was reading her online diary and within days of my little pep talk i discovered that she made out with not one, but two, available young orange county suitors!
so here's to you, ashley newingham, princess of the 949, sow your wild oats in the parking lot of wild oats... but be safe because thats good shit over there.
and in a few years it will be i who will be the jealous one.
two reasons im happy to have a blog
the first reason is so i can tell you that my favorite fast food restaurant of all time KFC is giving away a small serving of Popcorn Chicken from noon-2pm, so sorry kids, only those in the PST will be able to take advantage of this terrific treat. Thanks Chris for the tip!
now, i dont read Salon unless Rabbit is writing, but Vodka Pundit has a link to a story that is quite fascinating. Turns out women like semen!
According to the story, women who dont use condoms are happier than women who do use them.
As someone who practices ultra safe sex, this puts me in quite a quandry.
Or it means that the grande finale needs to be... well...
See why i dont read Salon? Although, now we know how Rod got all those chicks. They were after the quart of jizz in his belly.
michelle is a tall, athletic, attractive, libra.
a marketing director for a tech company, she's into good music, wrote for the daily nexus and sends me steamy emails even though ive never met her -- though she swears my name rings a bell.
i mighta met her once when i was visiting santa barbara, but i doubt it. i think i woulda remembered her.
but maybe not. i do have a habit of drinking a tad when im hanging in the 93117.
hot nexus babes were plentiful when i was there and it's nice to know that the tradition lasted past our reign, but the reason i am bringing up michelle is because i linked her website yesterday and not her blog, and any time you can link a blog from Oxnard you should.
i bought my first car, a Saturn SL-1 in Oxnard.
anyhow, michelle's web site, like this blog, is filled with way too many pictures to punish those who insist on dialup connections. However she has a "boys we love" section that is a parade of homoerotic poses from some of the prettiest lads this side of the Castro District.
you girls cant be serious about that shit.
normally i dont spotlight people who link me, but i didnt belong to a frat in college so the nexus is the closest to beer/chicks/idiocy/lifelong connections that i'll ever get.
tomorrow is the first day of summer so i decided to get my trashy summer novel reading started in grand fashion by breaking open my signed copy of ken layne's novel of intrigue, muder, technology, "dot.con".
okay, even if ken wasnt my friend, former roommate, current linking buddy, and future drinking partner, i would still think that his book is top-notch.
im a super slow reader and i've made it through the first 30 pages, and not only is this book funny, but it's true.
i wont ruin it for any of you, but let me act as a witness, this "novel" includes characters that if you walk down the lower Haight in Frisco, you might very well meet some of the bumbling crack street vendors like "Charles" outside Palestinian-run corner markets named "O'Lowney's."
we all knew that ken could write, but i wasnt so sure that he could write a novel.
let it be known, the fucker can write a novel.
i cannot give such a glowing review to one of the best chinese restaurants in west hollywood.
for the record, i love the food at p.f. changs, but why must their service be so crappy?
last night karisa took me out to dinner so as to console me from my shocking dumping. we had the crab won tons, spicy shrimps, lemon scallops. i had some harsh shots of rum, she had an apple martini and licked the sugar from the glass and pretended like it wasnt the sexiest move ever.
still the loser server guy whose only job is to take the plate from the kitchen to the table forgot to bring soy sauce.
how do you forget that? its a fucking chinese restaurant. sure theyre playing frank sinatra and there isnt one chinaman in the whole dump, but no matter how californian you tweak the chinese food you'll never ween us from the soy sauce, renaldo.
isnt the purpose of having the waiter only take the order, and the food server only bring you the food, efficiancy? quality? customer fucking service?
karisa is a trooper though and took her time with the sugar even though her martini was third rate.
Wednesday, June 19, 2002
i was born a catholic... mmm not really. i was baptisted catholic.
no priest ever touched me. which isnt to say that some didnt touch others, or worse. who doesnt think that some of them did? it just never happened to me, thankfully.
i was baptised catholic. during holidays i would get taken to church. once i went to sunday school and they gave us a hershey bar when it was over. fair enough trade, if you ask me.
my grandmother used to take me to the national cathedral in dc. when i was 15 i thought that a drivers liscense was the only thing that was keeping me from going to church every day. when i was 21 i visited the vatican and they charged me $20 for a roll of film.
at around 23-24 i finished the bible for the first time and i realised that there was nothing in there about nuns or popes or cardinals or confession or most of the things that makes up catholicism, so i became a christian.
a few years later i became ordained.
im not a good minister, but i am one, but dont be impressed.
still, i have to say this for the catholics, whatever they did during their run, they made the "catholic skirt" the sexiest peice of clothing every young woman should have in her wardrobe.
regardless of her spiritual beliefs.
you'd think a perv like xknight would have had a catholic girl skirt contest by now, but im sure he will one of these days.
in related news, "american idol" is starting to suck.
LIBRA (Sept 23-Oct 22) .
The World Wildlife Fund has been around since 1961, fighting earnestly to save endangered species. Its logo features a panda bear.
The World Wrestling Federation launched in 1962, and has made millions of dollars selling staged combats between steroid-inflamed loonies. Its Web site recently touted its best-selling item as the "Undertaker Big Evil Red Devil T-shirt."
So which of these WWFs won the recent skirmish between the two? The good guys!
A court ruled that the pandas had a superior claim to the initials WWF, and that the devils had to change their name. It's now World Wrestling Entertainment.
I bring this up, Libra, as proof that sometimes goodness and beauty and truth do triumph.
As you navigate an analogous showdown in your own sphere, fight for this possibility with all your might.
- Free Will Astrology by Rob Brezney
36. Being Jen Rajkowski
37. Aloha...from Earth
beyonce called me and said, "you're such a player you'll have a new babe in no time, dont be sad."
i said, im no player, thats just my marketing team.
she said, "well get your team in gear, you only have 35 new links. it's 20 days until july 9th and you need 65 more links. what's your plan?"
i said, "i aint got no plan. the plan is to ride off into the sunset."
she said, "three a day."
i said. "no way can i get three a day."
she said, "how's your girl anna doing?"
i said, "anna lost 7-6 (4), 3-6, 1-6 to Rita Grande of Italy at the Eastbourne tournament."
beyonce said, "clay?"
i said, "no, this is a warm-up for Wimbledon, so it's on grass."
she said, "oh, isnt that the tournament that Martina Navratilova signed up for for her comeback?"
i said, "yeah, she signed up and she won her first match."
beyonce said, "martina won and anna didnt? that's pretty sad."
i said, "yup."
she said, "i like her in yellow."
i said, "yep."
she said, "are you doing okay?"
i said, "yep."
mary chapin carpenter has some great sad songs and i always know im in trouble when im listening to her.
i was in trouble the first time the cuban girl sent me an email. i was trying to get her to let me take her out. normally we ate lunch on fridays with some of the agents here at the xbi, but i wanted to get her out of that mix and see what she was really like.
after months of pursuit she wrote back saying that we could have lunch, as long as it was in the day time, as long as i didnt pay for the meal, as long as i didnt show any sign of affection, and as long as we didnt share any food. im such a smart ass i wanted to show up with a little 3x5 card with the word "affection" written on it, but im not that cool.
crazy rules that id never heard before, but she was hot so i agreed and we had our pizza.
three weeks later, everything was completely different, and we spent every day together for a little while.
mary chapin carpenter would probably tell me that youre going to win some and lose some in this country song called life, and when you win you should keep it to yourself and when you lose you should sing your sad little tunes, but to be honest im still sorta surprised and it hasnt sunk in yet and i know the things i did wrong.
but dont cry for me, isla vista, i'll bounce back like i always do.
if you ever saw this girl you'd say, "no, you wont be bouncing back any time soon." but i have a bizarre way of being able to shake this sort of thing off. it begins with smoking and drinking on a wednesday night.
and if you like me you wont say anything in the comments section, cuz none of it will help. just keep being my friend and keep being nice to each other. i knew it was a doomed affair when she said that my house was too dirty and that i lived too far away when my house has never been cleaner and we both live in hollywood.
it was code.
we all speak in code.
my code is superhonesty. it might sound like bs sometimes when i say it, but i mean it.
i might say it with a funny tone or sarcastically, but it's true.
sometimes everything in here is true.
in other news, the cubs won in the bottom of the ninth last night.
Tuesday, June 18, 2002
Willie Davenport of Baton Rouge, La., relaxes in Lake Placid, N.Y. after a practice session for the four man bobsled at the Winter Olympics in this Feb 20, 1980 file photo. Davenport, who won the gold medal in the 110-meter hurdles in 1968 and competed in a total of five Olympics, died of a heart attack after collapsing at Chicago's O'Hare International Airport, Monday, June 17, 2002, the Cook County medical examiner's office said Tuesday. (AP Photo/File)
i'm so lucky that so many bus drivers of the Los Angeles MTA read this blog because it's so great to talk to all of you at once.
so far we have a pretty good relationship, you and i.
i pay my money; you speed past me when you dont want to stop, you dont open your door when people are clearly pounding on it begging to climb aboard, you mumble into the microphone at major stops telling us such vital info as la breereerrereah.
you dont let us eat or drink or smoke or play our radios
and thats okay.
but please turn down the air conditioners.
its ninety degrees but i need to carry a jacket
if i plan on using the bus.
if i wanted an air conditioner i would have bought a lexus.
35. town without pity
karisa says i didnt write much today little does she know that i dont do any of the writing here. my staff just got back from their kabutz and theyre still a tad jet-lagged.
karisa and i have a pretty cool deal going. i never thought that i would ever have a friend who was a girl and pretty cute (sometimes) who i would actually prefer being "just friends" with, as if every cool girl needed to be a conquest or it was somehow a failure.
keeping a good friendship, especially during the turbulent dot com era that we got to know each other, is somewhat of a conquest.
and then there was the ongoing pleas and cries that she would deliver upon me night after night begging for me to be her "man". the late night arguements outside of my front gates where i spoke to her through my security box telling her to take her drunken ass home or i was going to ...
well, needless to say, we're friends, she might want more from me sometimes, i might want certain things from her sometimes (like for her to sew the curtains in my smoking chamber that she promised more than a year ago), etc.
you know im writing this myself when i type "etc." the writers never leave me hanging with that shit.
anyhow, for your delight, here are some of karisa's daydreams today in LA, a beautiful afternoon...perhaps you have some of the same wishes:
"whoa. i cannot believe you just said that about the hammock and a backyard
and 2 palm trees..... i was just outside walking with merle and said that i
wished that on the roof of the building that there was grass, 2 trees and a
hammock....but i wanted a mini-wading pool instead of a mister!
"right now i would rather be outside in the heat,
swinging a hammer, sweating from doing manual labor, and having a physical
finished product that people can enjoy for years to come.
"i would give up this shit any day for equal pay.
"i was sad about jesse ventura too. apparently, his 22 year old son has been
throwing way too many parties in the governors mansion!!!
"shit, it was a good thing my dad was not the president!!!
"i love the home depot.
"i love this weather.
"i love that i have a very SLIGHT tan and that i didn't blowdry my hair after
i got out of the shower this morning.
"and i love that i look like i just woke up.
"i hate that i lost my sunglasses and i am getting one new crow's feet per
"and i wish that i did laundry yesterday.
a nice woman who'd rather be outside with a hammer doing good for the planet, what's better than that?
how about a guy from Turkey saying that this is the best Blog in the world?
and lastly, but not leastly, these are two sites that linked me for the first time today, but didnt put me on the left-hand side permanantly, so it doesnt "count," but i apprecate it anyway so you should check them out.
i am lucky even to be honored to be on your blogs, nice people blogging at home.
or on your screens.
or on the other side of your emails.
today's fun game
go to google and type in "lakers threepeat" or "LA Lakers threepeat" and see what happens.
what were you expecting? a link to Pat Riley?
it's new release Tuesday!
i see groovy new tunes here from They Might Be Giants, Papa Roach, and Anastacia!
have i ever told you that i love people who dress up in Spider-Man outfits and illegally climb up skyscrapers? i do.
this morning i was seeing how my favorite escalator is fairing (it's fine) and as i was emerging from the depths of wilshire and western i heard all these car horns beeping as if there was a traffic accident that people were upset about.
my commuting pal asked if maybe they were happy because of mexico in a world cup game. i said, "didnt we beat the shit out of mexico?"
we, like i had anything to do with it. like i even care.
and then it dawned on me that we were in the heart of koreatown, and Lo, there was a young man in a red shirt standing proudly through the sun roof of a gold Lexus holding a huge south korean flag giving the thumbs up to his fellow koreans as they celebrated an apparent victory in the big soccer game that all you kids seem to want to be excited about.
former Daily Nexus writer Martin Boer wrote a story yesterday in the Financial Times about the USA/Mexico game that you should all read immediately.
If you care.
Which I don't.
But I love Martin, cuz he's dutch and he introduced me to his mom who i think is psychic cuz she predicted jeanine and I breaking up.
and he's the real brains behind Gauchos in Cyberspace, which I need to update on my Gauchos page, which I havent in a while, my apologies. I like the list, but i also hate it because it makes me feel like all my genius friends have leap-frogged my skinny ass, and im incredibly competetive. except for the times, like now, where im lazy lazy lazy. and i was thinking about making July "kick the ass out of everyone Month" but then someone loaded a bowl and i went back to flipping the channels.
Ready for the Brilliant Idea of the Week #2: Krispy Kreme needs to immediately open up shops on Hollywood/Highland, Downtown Disney, Universal City Walk, and Venice Beach.
I don't know why the hell they're dragging their feet, but they are. It's a friggin DONUT STORE, people. strike while the iron's hot.
Maybe Magic Johnson needs to invest. He's opening two 24 Hour Fitnesses today.
33. Online Daily News
32. snoop doggy blogg
Monday, June 17, 2002
Q. Do u have a few minutes Tony?
A. just a few, how can i help?
Q. Last time u had sex/made love?
A. girls dont wanna have sex with me
Q. R U gay?
A. drop your girl off here and find out.
Q. I dont have a girl;
A. why doesnt that surprise me.
Q. do u roll
A. english, speak english or die
A. oh, that. dude, i went to ucsb.
A. U Can Study Buzzed
A. ok, then, no, no i have never done that.
A. cuz it's illegal, and the citizenry should obey the laws, even if it means not taking pills that make you happy.
Q. r u into stile?
A. if i was 15 and never saw titties, i'd love stile.
Q. What's the deal with Ashley?
A. ask her yourself.
Q. No. Is she cool?
A. theres no way i deserve a girl like her.
Q. What do u mean
A. one more question and im out
Q. What place would you like to visit b4 u die?
A. Christ's tomb in Jerusalem's Holy Sepulchre
A. ask your teacher.
Q. We don't learn that shit.
A. you should. ask your teacher.
why im a huge fan of kitty bukakke
final archived entry. end of best of tony pierce, june, 2008.
she said, please don't i just ate a garlic shrimp
i said, baby, i'd kiss you if you just had eight garlic shrimps.
she said, but i just smoked a cigarette.
i said, i'd kiss you if you licked an ashtray.
and what if i just barfed, and you just held my hair?
i said, i'd sniff the tire tracks left by the truck of the janitor that had the luck to mop up your freshly spewed Doritos chunks.
and then i'd kiss you.
would you kiss me if i had a canker sore?
i said, i'd kiss your grandmas canker sore youre so hot. the one on her ass.
what if one of my lips fell off?
i said, i'd kiss your one lipped freak face and find the other and kiss that.
what if i fell into a deep coma for thirty years and woke with the worst morning breath imaginable?
i said, it woulda only been that way cuz id a been kissing you for all those years.
you're fucking gross as hell.
and she left me there with my half empty plastic cup of wine.
p.s. ���Ǵ����, tony ��
who's the luckiest man in america? me. but you knew that.
i had a great weekend this weekend and i hope you did too.
summer finally came to the tri-counties and it couldnt have come at a better time.
so what do i do? me and chris and chris's sister went to the fancy-dancy $14 movie theatre and finally saw Spider-Man. what a great movie! totally made me wanna see Army of Darkness and Evil Dead 2 again -- which laid the groundwork for the cool parts of Spider-Man.
why havent any of the reviewers said anything like that? maybe they did, i wouldnt know, i dont read the reviews until i see the film.
anyhow, im in a terrific mood and i can barely contain it.
mostly cuz i have you on my blog reading my words, and that makes me so happy.
im bummed that i missed emmanuelles sweet party, but i made due.
maybe one day the cheerleaders will let me tell you.
but i think ive said too much already.
Sunday, June 16, 2002
today is emmanuelle's 22nd birthday!
i first met emmanuelle nearly five years ago at her wedding to matt welch. i think that was the first time, my memory is horrible.
matt and emmanuelle got married in the home of milky white cows called joncey, france.
me and chris were together back then and we took an airplane from frisco to amerstam, spent the night there, then took a train to paris and spent the night there, then took a train to a town and got picked up by dougie gyro, i think, and he took us to the joncy.
first beers were drank, then we all went to the the town courthouse. they knew emmanuelle's dad since he was the mayor, after all. then we all marched through the streets to the church, then we all marched through the streets to another place with drinks.
then we went to the mayor's house to party.
the story, as i remember it, is that emmanuelle's family were the leaders of this central france small town for years and years. then in the late 30s or early 40s they were voted out. then hitler marched through france and came to joncey and said, "where are your leaders?" and they pointed to the people who were the leaders and hitler took them to a barn and hung them.
once WWII was over the french voted emmanuelle's family back into office and not only has joncey never been happier, but some might say the world has never been better. coindidence?
one of the coolest memories that i will ever have in joncey was listening to matt and ken and os sing up on a hill in the dark in the wee hours that summer night as the reception was dying down. a wedding due to the fact that emmanuelle reeled in that romanticly drunken hippy whiteboy from the lbc.
emmaunelle is an awesome person, shes french, but not one of those terrible french people we read about. when she speaks english it's sweet, it's cute. it makes you think that all the french should speak english cuz it sounds good like that.
emannuelle has a great fashion sense all her own and makes it seem so easy.
shes a fabulous journalist, and brings home the bacon en francaise or in english, just like she does on her killer blog.
but best of all she has kept our good pal matt healthy, happy, and still singing sweet songs.
bonne anniversarie, mon amie, emmanuelle!
aren't you glad i have Comments?
damn that bitc! is butt fu!king ugly!
tony, get over your freakish looking self and realize that you're almost 40 running after mentally disturbed young teens...
get some help...
and most of all...TAKE A SHOWER!
you look like you smell of ass...
exactly whic! bitc! are you claiming to be butt fu!king ugly!?
and since when is that an insult? last time i found myself behind the curtained privacy of the adult section at the 20/20 video (which was quite a while ago, sadly), three out of four of the tapes had something to do with butt love of one sort or another.
now, just because im the minority who dont find that sort of affection as endearing as some, apparently most video-renting americans do.
just look at the selection!
right now rocko, we could see white girl, black girls, latinas, asians, blondes, schoolgirls, amateurs, professionals, seniors, married, goths, cheerleaders, midgets, and yes, even babes in jail get butt fu!ked.
and these are pretty girls.
which makes me confused when you suggest that the only young ladies who like it that way would be ugly.
as for my looks, you need to learn the lesson that i am living by example. i am quite over my looks. i dont even look at my looks anymore because it makes me sad.
but the lesson is, look at all the hot chicks who dont even care.
to borrow from your vocabulary list, that is what i would call "freakish."
i dont get it. LA is brimming full of good looking guys. all the gyms are full, all these guys have great cars and cool bachelor pads, and good clothes, and wads of ill gotten cash.
how am i, at 108 years old, not 40, poor rocko, pulling in these totally amazing women? none of whom have ever asked me to visit their backdoor, thankfully.
my lesson to you, friend, is it's not cuz of my looks. and its not my fancy car, or ocean front casa, or endless supply of cocaine and gold boolions.
see, i cant even spell it.
thank you, blog.
as for "running after mentally disturbed teens," ashley is now twenty, no longer a teen. and im not running after her, if you must know, shes running after me.
does that make her mentally disturbed?
but im way more disturbed for not letting her catch me, since shes the catch, and i miss her very much.
so quit being jealous that she doesnt want you.
there are other fish in the sea
and as we see from this picture, there are also jack asses like you.
write back soon.
p.s. i do need to take a shower. but its not ass that i smell of.