laurita says im her idol. shes the one going to law school, so shes my idol.

theres nothing better than a smart girl.

two smart girls maybe.

i read laura a long time ago and for some reason we never talked till now.

the other night we talked about some blogs that we read.

all i have to say is you people have stories to tell and pretty blogs, i wish you'd write in them.

i hate that our friends and family, or the fear about friends and family keep people from telling their stories.

something must be done.

this is the first time in mankind that people from all over the world, completely different people, can tell each other what its like to live where they live and do the things that they do.

why hold back?

xbi called me this morning. apologized for calling on our company vacation. gnarly shit going down in the valley, where its been super hot.

i didnt want to go to the super hot. and i didnt go to sleep last night till five.

karisa still had my flying car so i took a cab into the office

los angeles this morning was glorious, people of earth. warm, clear, smooth, sweet.

he didnt say nothing to me and i didnt say nothing to him.

the jazz coming out of the boom box on the passengers front seat sounded like monk i could barely hear it behind the bullet proof glass.

when i was a kid i rode in a car by a current pro baseball player and i sat in the back seat and i thought i wonder if anyone knows who this guy is driving, that they just cheered for him a few hours ago.

this morning i thought i wonder if this taxi driver knows that what hes saying on his cell phone right now is being heard by one of the few people who could fuck his shit up in a major way.

cops say that the bad guys are all asleep on a saturday morning.

sometimes theyre driving cabs totally sober.

sometimes theyre in the back seat totally hung.

laurita + richard giles + the ward

# | |

i have to admit, i was a little depressed last night. but today i was woken up by a phone call from my favorite magazine, Black Webmaster.

the woman on the other end said that i was being nominated as best black blogger and she wanted to set up an interview with me.

we ended up doing the interview right there, why not.

she asked me if i had ever been in any rock bands. i said yes. i told her about this band i was in called the burglars.

we'd book a band called something dumb like White Ivory and we'd have four of our friends dress all emo and start playing the first few seconds of their first song, then we'd run onstage with some burly dudes who'd knock White Ivory down on the ground, put their hands behind their backs and pull them off stage where we, the Burglars, would run onstage in black turtlenecks and ski masks and play 15 two-minute punk songs in 20 minutes and then run off while stealing the equipment.

then she asked me about why i lie so much in my blog.

i told her that there is a natural defense to keep ones private affairs private, and if you're doing something as ridiculous as

and then i couldn't go on any more.

im no good at interviews. i don't want to sound dumber than usual i told her.

she invited me to relax. classy chick.

then she asked me what i would like on the cover if i won.

i said that i would just want a picture of my butt on the cover, nude.

that way i could make a tshirt of the magazine cover and it would say kiss my black ass, im on the cover of my favorite magazine.

she asked me what camera i use.

i said, canon powershot s45, but don't blame them, im still learning how to use it.

she asked what computer i have.

i said a piece of shit 400 mhz p2, win 2k, but im upgrading soon.

she asked me what i would be doing if i wasn't a black webmaster.

i told her that i would be growing medical marijuana for the sick, wherever it is that they do that. rarely do you get to do something that so literally helps people during their worst suffering and probable death.

she asked me if i had a green thumb.

i took a picture of my little houseplants that were doing very well.

she asked me if i had ever tried to grow pot, i told her no, that i saw friends get busted for that in college and it was pretty harrowing because i was ironically having a bad trip on acid at the time.

she asked me again how much on my blog was true.

i told her nothing.

she asked if it was true that three of my ex girlfriends were at the tsar show last week?

i said yeah jeanine aj and chris, i should of taken a picture.

she asked why i thought i still have good relationships with my ex's

i told her that its my belief that they keep me around as a low water mark. if they think some guy they're doing is a loser, they'll compare him to me and feel better about things if he's not worse.

she asked if it was true that i had given jeanine a good long kiss in the middle of spaceland that night.

i said yes, but its a rare thing. once every lunar eclipse. but our love is very strong.

she asked if i had been to jeanines new beachside apartment yet.

i said no.

she said why not.

i reminded her that i don't have a car.

she said, the winner of black webmaster this year gets free gas for a year.

blue cad + perfect + woof + <33 kate <33

# | |

100 favorite movies

1. the blues brothers
2. clockwork orange
3. caddyshack
4. ferris bueller's day off
5. his girl friday
6. buffalo '66
7. evil dead II
8. drunken master
9. gummo
10. trading places
11. pulp fiction
12. the jerk
13. the general
14. empire strikes back
15. north by northwest
16. sixteen candles
17. citizen kane
18. the south park movie
19. the shining
20. full metal jacket
21. time bandits
22. the breakfast club
23. amazing grace and chuck
24. this is spinal tap
25. broadway danny rose
26. resevior dogs
27. monty python and the holy grail
28. how to get ahead in advertising
29. office space
30. do the right thing
31. hoop dreams
32. roger rabbit
33. animal house
34. stripes
35. jurrasic park
36. flashdance
37. my little chickadee
38. scarface
39. apocalypse now
40. bull durham
41. crouching tiger, hidden dragon
42. jfk
43. true romance
44. platoon
45. planes trains and automobiles
46. the godfather
47. 2001
48. X
49. bad leuitenant
50. sherlock jr.
51. billy madison
52. it happened one night
53. babettes feast
54. rabbit proof fence
55. roger & me
56. blue velvet
57. aladdin
58. purple rain
59. gregory's girl
60. et
61. ran
62. bingo long and the traveling all stars
63. fast times at ridgemont high
64. wargames
65. risky business
66. rocky iii
67. goodfellas
68. memento
69. bill and teds excellent adventure
70. star wars
71. my life as a dog
72. dont look back
73. the wall
74. the muppet movie
75. carnal knowledge
76. the princess bride
77. raging bull
78. vertigo
79. raising arizona
80. valley girl
81. true lies
82. national lampoon's vacation
83. the others
84. dog day afternoon
85. rain man
86. down by law
87. starstruck
88. the neverending story
89. slacker
90. the rivers edge
91. sid and nancy
92. animals are beautiful people
93. heathers
94. the wedding singer
95. brazil
96. rushmore
97. run lola run
98. amadeus
99. breaking away
100. welcome to the dollhouse

# | |

dear vincenct gallo,

im sorry to hear that you want to quit making movies.

i heard the french said that your new movie was the worst one at cannes.

let me make you a tshirt that says fuck cannes.

what the fuck did cannes ever do for anyone anyway? bunch of stuck up foreigners trying to be all classy when they aint so damn classy, and what do they know about art?

buffalo '66 is one of my all time favorite movies. top 25 definately.

you, fucker, you.

i saw buffalo '66 on a sunny day in west la in the summertime after seeing a bunch of hollywood blockbusters that had all the money talent hype teamwork and hotchicks and still they werent shit.

you had christina ricci at her plumpest looking better than ever. angelica houstons best role ever. ever.

fuck cannes and their toplessness and their booing.

why arent they booing ben affleck like every ten minutes?

you know what cannes likes? woody allen's worst movies.

in a hundred years you'll be making bad 90s woody allen movies maybe, if you dont retire cuz of a bunch of snail eating boychasers, but now is the time to get back at them, not quit.

rename that shit "worst film at cannes" and everyone will go. and they'll buy that tshirt im making you.

let em boo. motherfuckers. boo boo boo.

everyone who's ever done anything has gotten booed, why not you rich boy.

remember when prince opened for the stones at the la collesium and got booed. did he quit or did he slide on a pair of high heeled boots and make a little movie called purple rain?

the devil wants you to quit.

people who call soccer football.

remember Gummo, top 25 too. remember julian donkeyboy? bottom 25. so what. who cares. you dont think harmony has another Gummo in him? odds say he doesnt but odds said he didnt have a Gummo in him either, so fuck the odds, fuck cannes fuck the haters and fuck you if you quit, quitter.

give me a fucking purple rain, whiney weinstein.

this is a world filled with bullshit that gets rewarded left and right: justin timberlake, bob costas, george bush, david schwimmer, ticketmaster, drug czars, jay leno, kroq, rick dees, the catholic church, nike, the fcc, the mpaa, tobacco execs, alan greenspan, osama bin laden, and chip carey.

roman polanski fucked a 14 yr old girl in the ass. in the ass, bro, and what does he get, he gets to live in france and win the academy award because time passed and he pandered and made a holocaust flick. wtf is that?

wake me when roman makes a film about fucking kids in the ass and getting away with it, cuz anyone can make a holocaust movie.

keep making movies.

guys named vincent never did well in france anyhow, so fuck em.

your pal,

tony

dc '66

enjoy the codeine + zada + fat nathan

# | |

the question of the day is, how depressed can you really be if your fingers smell of nineteen yr old danish pussy?

our girl, just like many have, asked me for the millionth time how old i am today and today i told her and today she put her skirt back on, found her bra and blouse, put them back on, and left my apartment probably never to return again.

i knew that if i told her the truth it would be over.

murphys law.

probably because i really liked her.

sux cuz this morning i was giddy from last night, thankful that i didnt have to work, and totally excited to see the foreign cheerleader coach who was still in town indefinately due to one of her students being incarcerated for shoplifting at target.

everything in this is true.

i dont know what to think of this girl.

so cute. doesnt really talk to me, but some of the things she says are great.

seemed to like to make out but

anyhow, there we were naked and suddenly she wants to stop because its killing her that she doesnt know my age.

it's just a number.

56. broome

i tell that to the people at work who freak at the aged girls i go out with, sometimes. agists i scream.

is it the girl's fault that she's legal?

is it my fault that i was born in the seventeenth century?

i dont hold it against karisa that she has a funny accent and webbed toes, i dont hold it against chris that shes got huge bazooms and only seven channels on her tv, i dont hold it against anna that she hasnt won a tournament, and they dont hold it against me that im so damn good looking.

you win some and lose some. this spring ive lost more than normal, but ive also won more than normal too, i suppose.

who knows.

chris came over to cheer me up. she kissed me on the lips and told me i was handsome.

she said my hair looks cute.

then she drove us to kfc, then went on a date.

laurita cheered me up too and withstood all the pictures i showed her, then she went out on the town.

i think im getting hbo free.

i think i'll watch it.

laurita + beyond writing + i heart bunnie

# | |

hi cruel world

why would you invite me to a glamourous wrap party of my second favorite tv show at a swanky hotel private lounge party room with free champagne gorgeous women everywhere and at least one being turned away from the velvet ropes and not have any of the stars of the show attend?

i shouldnt complain.

i had a great time.

today i have the day off from the xbi.

i also have a brunch date.

caio!

# | |

hi lebron james

whaddup money.

who you calling money? i heard you just got a deal with Nike.

heard right, g.

how much are they giving you?

$90 mil.

$90 million?

$90 million.

how many nba games have you played?

none.

how much are they paying you again?

who?

Nike.

$90 mil, bro.

for what?

cuz kids are going to buy my shoes, blogger boy.

$90 million worth?

well, and my jersey, and my sweat pants, and my wrist pads, and my mouth guard.

why would they want your mouth gaurd, thats gross.

no, not my mouth gaurd, a never before used mouth gaurd that has my name on it and a little swoosh next to it.

i used to think i was the luckiest man in the world. but once again im mistaken.

to be honest, im not going to be getting all of that in one lump sum.

what are they going to spread it out over 90 million years or some shit?

wow, i dont know. i better ask.

how much will your shoes sell for?

i dont know, probably $150.

$150 million?

no, just $150.

do you think a million people will buy your shoes?

no, but maybe a half million kids will buy my shoes.

but that doesnt add up to $90 million.

thats where the toof gaurd comes in. and the sweat pants. and the cologne and shit. basketballs. active wear. sweatbands. shit, i dont know.

lebron, dont you think it's weird that the people who will be making your $150 shoes wont even make $150 the entire week of making your shoes, and you'll be making $150 a dribble?

i think everythings weird, g. it's not my place to think. it's my place to put the rock in the hole.

thats a pretty good answer for a highschooler.

im not a highschooler any more. im an industry. get used to it.

it might be hard for me to get used to it.

just do it.

kieran + flingus + aint no bad dude

# | |

hi miss china

hi tony pierce.

i want you, miss china.

i want you too, tony pierce.

what are you going to do if you win miss universe, miss china.

im going to wrap my arms around you, tony pierce, and give you a big juicy kiss.

are you a good kisser, miss china?

thats what my girlfriend tells me.

well, hmmm, well, i didnt know.

you didnt ask.

but you would kiss me?

mmmm definately.

what else would you do if you got miss universe?

travel around and spend money.

you wouldnt help promote world peace?

people with guns and bombs dont listen to beauty queens, tony.

maybe they would if you kissed them first.

fine, i'll kiss people with guns and bombs then.

are you a good cook, miss china?

yes i am as a matter of fact.

whats the dish that you like to cook the most?

probably waffles.

theyve got waffles in china?

we've got lots of things in china that you wouldnt expect.

yeah, like what?

like the new Tsar record.

but it hasnt been recorded yet.

yes it has, it just hasnt been mixed yet, sillyhead.

so you have the new Tsar record, unmixed?

yep, it's great, comes free with Windows XTP.

what's Windows XTP?

the second version of Windows XP.

whats the T stand for?

Tony.

you're pretty hot, miss china.

you're not so bad yourself, tony.

you know im not a judge, right.

youre not a judge?

no.

then what are you?

im just a blogger.

oh.

yeah.

oh.

so does this mean the interview is over?

pretty much.

can i have your number then?

sure, just answer one of my questions.

k.

whats my name?

no fair asking hard questions, miss china.

rishi + encantada + that broken girl

# | |

its certainly about time that a black man won american idol. shit.

and a big fat one at that.

i guess the philosophy that simon enlightened us with about image meaning something as he would dismiss boys and girls of various shapes and sizes in the first two (and only watchable) episodes is worthless crap.

i guess americans dont really care so much what you look like, just as long as you can sing a notch above average.

ask phil collins.

so if image isnt a factor, i guess all the brothas who can truly sing will be allowed to make the cut next time.

fuck american idol if they dont.

no way can they be telling me that in this entire country, the two best unsigned singers of steve wonder songs is clay and reuben.

is this why radio sucks?

saw a dead pigeon on the side of the road. people say la isnt a real city cuz its so spread out. i say if theres pigeons, its a city.

when pigeons die all the other pigeons eat them up.

pecking and pecking

as if they were starving.

pigeons can eat anything. food all over and still they eat their buddies.

all they ate out of this one was his body. perfectly good wings and what looked like chicken bones poking out of the grand grey feathers.

i guess at least pigeons wait till their buddy has died until they start being little peckers.

american idol has always been little peckers so i guess reuben and clay are about as good as we're going to get from them.

big fat black girl shoulda won anyways.

i like i like pretty things + indefinitely + autumn leaves + joy

# | |

caption this, please

# | |

yeah so karisa the worsta came over with her pink glittery bowling ball and where do you think she wanted to take me?

theres a new bowling "lounge" in hollywood called Lucky Strike. nice name, fuckheads. like kids need more influence from big tobacco. they call it a lounge because theres only a handful of lanes, but plenty of room at the bar to get loaded.

as los lobos said, last night, i got loaded.

i truly do love karisa because shes like the next door neighbor that i never had. we ordered coronas for the first game. i think i bowled like a 175. not bad for the first time bowling in 8 months. and i did it with an 8 pound ball. and i did it left handed.

and blindfolded.

so then we went to the lounge and the barkeep poured us two kamikazes. big ones. karisa made a squooshy face. she didn't like the ratio of vodka to glass. to her defense it was almost entirely vodka, very little whatever the hell else they put in kamikazes these days. we toasted to the finest ass in the house which could have been directed to either of us and we drank the first half, she complained, we took a deep breath, and finished that shit and slammed the glass down.

second game i started off with three strikes in a row. right handed but on the left hand side. the betting side.

any motherfucker wants to bowl against me from the left side, lets go.

karisa then started trying to get in my head. when she bowls she slides so far over the line shes practically breathing on the pins., then she bends to the side as her ball curves from one side to the other. its quite a scene. i caught some of it on video but i need to talk to rights and clearances.

spared the fourth and the fifth and had something like 118 going into the sixth. not a bad start. but i always bowl good buzzed.

with an eight pound alley ball.

bitches.

so then karisa says that she has something in her eye but she doesn't want to pick at it cuz her fingers have been in the bowling ball holes and leans close to me so i can look into her eye for the troublesome eyelash.

which is mesmerizing. which of course throws me completely off cuz i do not under any circumstance look at karisa and definately not into her eyes. eyes that had glitter and eyeshadow and eyeliner and voodoo all around it just to trap the souls of black folks, etc.

gutterballed the next one.

picked up the spare.

finished the game with a 187 on an undercover cock.

went to the lounge for another round of coronas.

she shook her ass for two more games and beat me on the fourth.

we drove back to my place. she said she wanted absinthe. we challenge each other. so she did a shot, a big shot and looked at me and called me a pussyboy, so i had to do a shot, which i did, so i called her a pussygirl. so she did a shot and called me a name which i cannot type here because kids might be reading.

so then i did a shot and the walls melted.

then she did a shot and she melted and started to slur.

then we held hands cuz the world had turned upside down and we didn't want to fall off.

then she asked me if i really truly loved her. and i said of course. then she said take off your top. so i took off her top. i mean i took off my top. then she told me told me to put my wallet and my keys on the table. so i did.

then i went into the bathroom. then i hurled. forgot i had had vegetable curry rice for dinner. brown rice. then i hurled some more.

then i went back out to the drawing room and saw that there was no karisa, no bottle of absinthe, no keys to the flying car! and no good night handshake.

still drunk made a goofy sloppy phonecall to an exgirlfriend whereby i told her that i missed her and loved her

then ate aspirin and fell asleep.

woke up and didn't hear about a ufo taking a chunk out of a mountain or a building or a street so i figured that my bowling partner had figured out how to work the autopilot.

but that doesn't mean that i don't still hate her.

but it does mean that i wont be going to hollywood park this weekend to see the ponies followed by the ohio players... with her.

and one last bit of warning old chum if the fbi finds you with that vehicle which i stole from them they will be much harder on you than i will be so fly that shit back where you stole it from!

on second thought, no keep it. yeah keep it. i dare you. wherever you have it parked, just leave it there. yeah.

just like yes said, leave it.

anti + raymi + jaime

# | |

have i told you that the people on the bus can be rude? have i told you that life isnt fair?

have i told you that work is hell sometimes like on hot days up in a whirlybird when all you want to do is take off your shoes and walk on the beach for even 15 minutes.

i want to take off my shirt and lay in the sun and listen to floyd zep doors dead santana janes pixies angus malcom, me and the ladies went to rock n roll thai the other night and first they put in pixies doolittle then they put in porno for pyros and i couldnt have picked two better cds or ten better dishes that we munched to.

i want to borrow somebodys golden retriever and somebody elses frisbee and somebody elses girlfriend and somebody elses convertible and i want to drive everyone to zuma where i belong today.

have i told you ive had the most wonderful life?

do you know i have the bestest friends and the nicest inbox.

when im up here chasing criminals and listenening to all the drama in my earpiece the best way for me to protect my soul is to remember that this thing could collapse any minute and the next minute i will be a splat on the 405 only to be cooked by the firey explosion and rush hour traffic.

so i think about the nice things, like spider rings and candy necklaces on girls with experience.

the devil messes with my hairline and my dumb face and my kidneys and my confidence but the angels send a parade of miracles my way every damn day.

cubs are still in first place.

cubs will stay in first place.

this guy we're staking out doesnt know there are twenty xbi agents listening to his every word.

he keeps singing living la vida loca to himself.

one of our guys is calling him gay, but our info says hes not gay. now the debate is whether or not its gay to be humming or singing or whistling ricky martin.

now one of our sharpshooters, a woman, is asking us why we men are so concerned if someone is gay or not.

now i cant get that stupid song out of my head.

now im singing it in my microphone.

now lots of people are singing it in their microphones!

now im laughing.

allison + sarah + oliver

# | |

hard thing about getting laid because of your blog is how do you blog about it?

gentlemen are taught to not kiss and tell. and one of the tricky dance steps of getting a girl to trust you is to ensure her that you wont blab all about her super soft skin, totally waxed everything, and the way she moved perfectly.

danish. blonde hair everywhere. little mermaid tattoo. if you're lucky she'll show you.

nineteen. n-n-n-n-nineteen.

how do these girls at nineteen know so much.

when i was nineteen i didn't know shit. i still don't know shit. but i certainly didn't know about fuck.

and last night i fucked like i was nineteen - cautious, quickly, and apologetically.

what's danish for oops lets try it again in a minute.

many moons ago she found me through a google search for "cheerleaders". by the way thank you google. thank you. thank you. thank you.

her english is good but wasn't always so good and at first i thought she was being mean to me and im very sensitive and i stopped chatting with her.

later we got to chatting again and she asked me what fuck was since i use it in so many ways on here and she was confused.

nineteen and naked in no time.

she said i didn't look american and i said she didn't look danish and i put on guns and roses and i was doing it with a girl i just met.

who am i?

what world am i living in what life am i leading what will my judgement day look like what will the neighbors think what is this girl who is so quiet thinking of how im doing what i probably shouldn't be doing but why shouldn't we be doing what we totally want to be doing.

didn't last long. too turned on. far too hot in therre. blonde hair everywhere.

i wont kiss and tell but i'll lick and lie

she said i will only be in town for three more days i said stay here she said she couldn't and we held hands and looked at the mariah carey poster across my room and i told her that i wish i had a plasma tv, and i wanted to tell her that i could have taken the plasma tv that we swiped from a counterfeiter in the valley but gave it to an old folks home. guilt is a motivator.

i have a baseball that many of my girlfriends have signed for me to look at on rainy days.

im now thinking of starting a new baseball of girls who've wanted to kiss me because of this url.

you need these things when your self confidence could breakdance on the head of a pin and you have the memory of a goldfish.

she was tall and tanned and lean and quiet until she wasn't so quiet and she said she had to get back to her girls who were probably destroying the hotel in anaheim and i walked her to her white rentacar and the security guards from the church across the street rode their bicycles in circles and watched

and then they talked on their walkie talkies

and then they just sat on their bikes.

and when she drove off i esp'ed to them that i didn't understand any of this either.

beta blog + meesh + mc browns party pics + hft

# | |

what am i afraid to write today? lots. you have no idea how much.

there was a little gunplay in the office this morning, which is always interesting cuz you want to return fire and you know others want to pick you off if they can, especially if youre normally flying high in chopper one and unavailable for retaliation.

i heard something whiz past my ear and i aimed at where i thought it was coming from but there was only the hot new russian chick over there and unless someone was hiding beneath her desk it was either her or i was mistaken.

i intentionally missed her just to see her reaction, she gave me a look like wtf, negro. meanwhile the entire office was intentionally missing people which only multiplied the bullets being spread throughout our old building.

slugs got caught in the bulletproof glass sending spiderwebs of plexiplastic through the darkened windows, other bullets ricocheted here and there. none of us took cover, just shot more. it was silent except for a police scanner and plings vreeems and plinks, and of course the occasional, you fuck!

dude next to me got hit in the chest. good thing he had his bulletproof wifebeater on. still it got him pissed and he jumped on his desk and really started aiming at people so five of us aimed at his gun. one person shot it out of his hand but then another person accidentally shot it back into his hand and one missed entirely and nailed his kid rock belt buckle and ricocheted into the big screen which immediately exploded the picture tube freaking everyone out.

so then everyone shot at the television.

one of the marines made it down the fire pole with a shot gun and cocked it and yelled that the next person who shot at anyone would receive the wrong end of his wrath and for a second i thought about some trickery starting with aiming at the fire alarm bell and hoping it would ricochet into one of his eyeballs, but nah, fuck that.

everyone mellowed out and then everyone got yelled at and then everyone said they were going to take lunch, and then the russian chick shot once more at me and said she was sorry to the marine who aimed his big stick right at her cute little upturned nose.

he calls her frenchy for some reason, and i hope its cuz he thinks shes french.

otherwise itd be gross.

he took her upstairs to get reprimanded and the only sound i heard as i fired up my computer was the crackling of the small fire caused by the picture tube of the former television in the corner.

and the police radio that kept on going and going and going

bam.

and then it stopped.

my eastcoast girlfriends + a sorority girl out on her own + azarock!

# | |

i had such a terrific weekend i dont even know where to begin. yes tsar played, yes i met a dancer at my local bar, yes i got to hang out with my old pal aj and her lovely co-conspiriter, yes i got to see a ton of my friends, yes i got to take lots of blurry pictures all weekend.

yes, im the luckiest man in north america.

if only you knew, naysayers of the cyberworld.

tonight i have plans to do laundry with ms karisa the besta and we will do nothing but illegal things, anonymous comment leavers, and each time we do, we will raise a toast to you.

got an email that the xbi will be closed on friday and closed on monday to celebrate memorial day, a day that means a little more to us than it does to many other companies since so many of our employees are either former military or come from military families. because of that we have all agreed to let each other spend this weekend with family and loved ones.

plus its a four day weekend.

my good pals natasha and fidel offered me astros / cubs tickets at minute maid park, excellent seats they say. maybe the best seats in the house, but unfortunately i have to pass. i have no frequent flier miles to Hobby. but thanks, kids.

i have the greatest friends. have i told you?

whats really nice to hear is when other people think so too.

whats also nice is when hot chicks daydream about me.

whats also nice is when the big man links me.

whats also nice is when the cubs are still in first place.

treacher wants to know why i used to link him on the left hand side, but i dont anymore. the answer is because im a lame-ass and i need an intern to maintain my links. send your qualifications to lewinski@tonypierce.com

gratzi

treacher + dawn + blogcritics

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you know your party is going well when you turn around and see this guy looking at you.

every party is going to have its share of randoms, but the quality of your randoms defines the quality of your bash.

most people judge parties by the quality of hot chicks, amount of beer on tap, or the variety of exotic drugs in the candy dishes.

but if you dont have those things then you dont even really have a party in the first place so step bitch.

any hollywood gettogether is going to attract beautiful people and rock stars and tv stars and superheros and runaway teens from maryland, bloggers, and theives. and youre going to get those who either were invited by the invited of the invited, or who overheard the address, or who just walked by and got lucky.

bad parties will have drunken frat boy water polo beer bongers who keep jamming the steve miller into the boom box even though the stereo is bumping bitches brew.

bad parties will have coked out mods hogging up the only bathroom applying eyeliner and sniping and ignoring the knocks at the door from people who seriously need to pee.

bad parties will have sleepy neighbors kicking the floor which is your ceiling and call the cops and peek through the blinds once the cops come and tell you that they dont like the smell they dont want to know anything about and the other cop says sir is that absinthe?

and i submit that these parties can be predicted, determined and graded by the quality of strangers who find their way into your home for the festivities. if you look around and see assholes, kick em out, they will fuck the shit up, ruin the mood, and tweak the vibe.

if you look around and see a dude with some jrr tolkien shit tattooed on his arm guzzling a miller high life sporting an eighty five bears super bowl shuffle tshirt and an excellent fake british accent, then you can take off your shoes and enjoy the bash cuz its gonna be okay.

mc brown is the other red flag youve got to look for. if he's in the house that trumps four or five dumbasses.

if you look around and cant find a random, you're probably the random. even in your own house.

my terrible memory was exposed when a beautiful young woman reminded me that she and i took in a concert together back in san francisco. apparently we had seen victoria williams at the great american music hall and youd think id remember even some of that, especially with such a pretty girl, but nope. zip. nada. thanks, xbi.

and i was the only drunktard dumb enough to be sipping the baby blue absinthe all night, in big gulps at first, and then waterered down slurps once the walls started moving and the voices started speaking czech.

the hallucinations were vivid and fluid. i coulda swore i saw like five six people on my bed listening to weezer and singing along.

i could have sworn i saw a butterlfly flutter in with a record player and prince's purple rain on vinyl.

and thats where things get fuzzy.

and last night i went to bed, caught by the sun, and this morning i woke up with the worst hangover ive ever had.

so bad i needed two asprin.

thanks all the nice people who came and drank and smoked and had a great time.

i had a great time too.

souptree + katie + moxie + welch + sara

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