i think the weekends are a good time to write about writing something that was generally discouraged in most of the college classes that i was lucky enough to attend.

i think the weekends are good because theres a lot less traffic and when theres not a lot of traffic you should experiment more. i think you should experiment more anyway, all the time, night and day, but weekends especially since less people will get hurt.

the problem that im encountering lately is that i dont allow myself enough time to really just sit down and be selfish and write. i think that if i was a paid professional i wouldnt have as much problems just getting down to business because i wouldnt have to worry about phones ringing with questions or problems about the real j-o-b, i could just set aside the entire morning to typing typing eating a banana, drinking juice and writing and writing.

i sorta have been doing that most of today which is really a monday if you consider i had thursday and friday off and yesterday seemed like a sunday and today totally seems like a sunday even thought its really saturday and who cares about any of this.

karisa is having a pool party and pat whalen is in town and i dont think those paths are going to cross unfortunately and its three thirty three and i know where my shower is. its right around the bend. and this hot chick who i still cant get my finger on, even though thats all i was able to get on her last time recently said how much she likes me writing about karisa and i said thats funny cuz other girls arent so happy with it and she said forget them when all along i was tryng to forget about her.

trying to because she likes paul frank and the last girl who blew me off likes paul frank and its going to have to take a definite change in the universe for me not to flinch anytime i see that filthy monkey on dainty pair of unmentionables.

its hot herre in hollywood and i spied with my little eye a young lady across the river who i believe was blogging as well in nothing but her white cheerleader socks and thats because not very many people in la have air conditioners. i dont even have a ceiling fan.

there was a time when i didnt want to write all the time. it freaked me out. i felt like something else was making me type.

i was sitting down to the old apple two c and out was coming all these crazy poems about the devil wanting to give me head and i would jump back and say hey now. and not hey now in a good way. hey now like i didnt sign up for this bullshit.

its so hot in hollywood that the young lady cant even handle those socks being on any longer.

but then i started writing poems again but now not so much because you keep rolling those bones and one day the wrong combo is going to get you into more trouble than just a coffee shop magazine. so blogging became my little hobby and ive read many of your emails, i see that im not the only one who wound up here that way.

guns n roses is telling me not to cry and madonna was just telling me to get into the groove and that shower is getting closer. there are a lot of demands on my time and writing is what fishing used to be for me when i sold televisions in santa barbara. it was something i would do to see what would happen. sales was too easy, anyone after a while could sell a tv at sears. but fishing, off a tall pier, with some semi frozen squid, now that was a tough skateboard trick to pull off.

and since i never caught anything other than starfish i enjoyed the thrill of the chase, just like i like seeing what will happen on the times like tomorrow when i will really allow myself the whole morning just to sit down and wipe some schmeer on my bagel and type and type and type about the new world. and go go girls. and love.

and now its so hot that the neighbors dog has quit barking and instead picked up the phone and called his lawyer because this sorta shit is just a damn crime.

home of the fourth of july photo essay

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caption this, please

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good morning, america. happy birthday.

do you know i love you? i do.

whats not to love about a country where anyone can be anything they want?

or do any damn thing they want?

right now i could buy a gun.

thats pretty cool.

right now i could buy a shitload of drugs.

all kinds.

right now i could download any song ever recorded.

right now theres about a dozen five dolla hos within walking distance from my badass abode.

ok. maybe only a half dozen. but theyre hot.

i love living in america. even though there are speed limits.

i know when gen x starts infiltrating congress all this dumb shit will go away. and radio is bound to get better.

karisa reminded me the other day that i hadnt been shut out for two months. that there was that college girl.

and even though she was grossed out when she saw my birthcertificate that said 1888 and i havent seen her since, i still love you, america.

she was pretty hot too.

i love you america for the beastie boys, janes addiction, the replacements, and tsar.

i love you for mtv and espn and directv

and the world wide fuckin web.

theres countries where people are still trying to figure out what to do with the womenfolk and we've got wireless highspeed broadband in central park. for free.

b.

i love you america for getting it about religion.

we still might be a little fucked up about race, but nobodys getting shot at for which church they dont go to.

its true that im not so crazy about christmas mangers being yanked because theyre on public property, but i like why they're taken away, and im amazed at the foresight of the founders for being so punk rock as to seperate church and state so clearly.

and im born again.

i love america for mcdonalds and pizza hut and jack in the crack and six foot bongs.

water slides and weenie roasts, kfc and kamikazee toasts.

america, the best collaboration of black and white since shooting stars.

thank you for country, than you for rock, than you for jazz, and thanks for inventing hip hop right before our eyes

thanks for the simpsons and nirvana and howard stern and madonna.

seven-11 bob dylan happy birthday america

youre still cold chillin.

tina + raymi + happy birthday sarah

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hi summer, you sassy little lassy. the heat blows through my bedroom window and makes itself comfortable. i have no heater and no a/c in this hollywood bungalow and sometimes i need a little fan.

and sometimes i need a little space heater but im about to rent a beater and drive around tonight with the windows down and count the shooting stars and think about ice cream bars, theres drumsticks and popsicles and bomb pops and push ups and strawberry shortcakes and chocolate eclairs, mickey mouses, choco tacos

the ones with the gumballs on the bottom, the ones with the quarters in the middle, the ones with the peanuts on the top.

ice cream sandwiches and eskimo pies. soft serve. triple scoop.

when i was a kid and this is how long ago ive been walking around, they used to have at baskin robbins this thing called the super heater, three scoops of ice cream, hot chocolate, nuts and whipped cream in a cup for ninety nine cents and it seemed like a lot of money and it seemed like a lot of ice cream, but it was four video games so i would always think about the super heater but i would always pass.

except once when my mom bought me one after grocery shopping. and i couldnt believe my amazing luck.

i need a new pair of shorts. all i have are swim trunks which are fun to wear as shorts in the summer but chris always rolls her eyes when i wear em.

its hot, hi summer. if i was smart i would shut the windows and turn this thing back into a cave. a cool dark cave where the lovely ladies in their summer dresses will sit down and cross their legs and try to act all demure but my demure detector doesnt overheat

like my candy bag on top of the microwave

next to the window.

emmanuelle meets starsky + the correct way to begin a blog + jaime has a good story + tell me you like the movie.

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well i cant find this motherfucker.

and you know theres gonna be a day when you wont see that word on this blog.

i was flying around all night last night and this morning looking for him and listening to the new fountains of wayne cd who i have more respect for year after year.

how they soar and dive and twist around the harmonies of teenage fanclub and nibble from the silly tree of they might be giants and suck from weezers oozing sores and make the biggest bubbles of... im telling you i was up all night and this morning, and now i need to nap.

they rip off the cars a little on this one and it will bring a smile to your face.

lots of things are bringing smiles to my face right now

cutest girl wrote me last night telling me that shes in lust with me after something i wrote.

hear that Black Webmaster?

thats what all this is about. right there.

i dont ever have to meet this girl, or see her, of wake up all tangled with her as the summer breeze plays with her dainty curtains. she gave me everything i was shooting for right there.

instapundit writes every day, all day, and he gets rewarded with a bukakke of hits every minute.

write every day i keep telling you.

what did i tell you about Sun Microsystems when they were at three and a half.

i told you to buy. and did you buy? no. you didnt buy.

you kept dialing up drudge. the cyber crack of those who should know better.

must. have. that. towel. boy.

did drudge tell you to buy sunw at three and a half? did he tell you to impeach bush for lying to us about weapons of mass destruction which led to a war that threw us into deeper debt. where on the ladder of failure is total economic disaster and lies about war in relation to hummers in the oval office?

but i digress.

im gonna rent a car after my nap and go food shopping and go to the coin laundry and go to the post office and try not to think about the fact that the xbi stool pigeon might have been one of the guys at that poker party that one night who was talking about how much money the exile business would be.

millionaire tax evaders on the run. deposed dictators. narcs. all with lots of money. all with death on the doorstep. all willing to go anywhere. even canada. to get away from the silent bullet

or the taxman.

i remember my idea was to build a subdivision in montana and then tell the city that the funding fell through but that since the first twelve houses had been built that we were going to go ahead and sell the homes and consider the whole thing a loss.

and the city would shrug its shoulders and we would sell the homes to ourselves. and we would connect the basements with tunnels and we could probably house about 20 people in those basements and they could visit with each other via the tunnels. and in the houses, of course, protecting and providing for them

would be the ex-xbi agents who had retired, thanks in part from the generous donations supplied by the evil cowardly hiding right below the surface.

i might even go to the beach today.

dresarii + karen's lesbian parade photos + sepi has a new layout

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ashley is an interesting girl, but ashleys pissing me off right now so we're not going to talk about her today.

and if she keeps pissing me off i will stop talking to her forever. as in forever. as in forever and ever and ever forever.

as in she better get her shit together and check her self because she is wrecking herself and i dont appreciate it because i have been extremely good to her and ive given her many second and third chances and she still tries so hard to weasel out of our agreements and i wont have it.

it sucks to be around a girl 1/7 your age because i feel like i have to sorta teach lessons and i dont want to teach any damn lesson, i just want to live my life and when people fuck me over i want to wipe them off my speed dial.

theres a lot of rock stars in the stratosphere. theres no reason to hang out with those who dont want to hang out with you or those who dont respect you.

ive seen a lot of things in my 109 years skateboarding this crust and the one thing that baffles me are people who do not get along who stay with each other because of history or old feeling or comfort or fear.

i dont think that its an accident that millions of people share this land with us and we have 75-100 years to rock the casbah. meet the people of the world. stick to your convictions. demand respect. love each other. and love each other enough to call bullshit on bullshit and walk away when the dj starts playing crap on the wheels of steel.

this isnt to say that problems cannot be worked out. this isnt to say that if you make commitments to be together forever like run dmc and the beasties that you should eject when the going gets rough. but this is to say that even though the grass is never greener on the other side, it might fill your lungs with something more to your speed.

now that im all riled up im going to take a subway to a bus to another bus and pop the weasel who is fucking with the program because nobody in the xbi seems like they can find him. and i can find him. i know i can and when i do the sound will be loud and frightening and terrible and i will not only bring his head on a platter.

and i know you read this shit so give yourself up before i catch you because i want to go to the beach today and read my fucking book because it's great and i thank you agent cridland for loaning it to me.

sk smith rules + flamer disses beck + i heart metafilter

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go with the flow, use the force, take what the defense gives you.

i know this. i KNOW this. still i fight it. tony dumbass to the rescue.

karisa and i have a complete friendship based around this way of life and still i forget this theme. chopper one. drunnk golfing. absolute marksmanship. sega nhlpa hockey. making love. making lust. playing shortstop. even writing in this damn blog has always been about taking it easy, taking myself out of it and going with the flow, and still i forget that sometimes and get upset when things dont go precisely the way i envision it, and i apologize to the universe for being a fallen tree branch in the river of life and messing with the stream of rock.

today i got into the office and there was an email from the commander telling us that we were to go code phil collins starting this evening.

that meant we were to go solo.

he's old.

if i ran the show i would call it code beyonce but i dont want to run the show. i just want to do my part.

what it means is that we have information that the offices are unsafe. that shit will go down. that we have to take any work home with us. that we cant call into the office. that we cant be teamed up with partners. that i have to take chopper one to the hangar tonight and take a cab home.

putting one plus one together we deduced that the guy who is ratting us out to the fbi and the press didnt get found by us yet and has started narcing and the wrong person is going to end up in the wrong place at the wrong time so we're making like trees and vamoosing.

so the boss told us to phil collins today and tomorrow and we take the fourth off cuz we love this country and i dont work weekends so it looks like im going to be like styx and have too much time on my hands.

fortunately i have nothing to do this weekend and i have a few friends who might want to do something, like my old roommate sam. and karisas friend ditch is in town with mikey muscles so i might have to take them to a titty bar on one of the nights that shes gonna do a girls night out with her ladies.

it sucks cuz i wanted to get ditch drunk and take him up in chopper one but everything needs to be on lockdown while the stoolie is on the loosie.

and you know what i really want right now?

i want a venice beach hot dog, and a vanilla soft serve dipped in that magic chocolate and i want to keep on reading Moneyball, and i want to just go with the flow

cuz the flow is good.

and im still the luckiest motherfucker from here to gardenia.

the bikini diaries + brit coal + anartic waste +dicta

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karisa floored it and we flew down melrose cuz we were starving and it was hot and together all we ever do is fuck the law.

since she was driving i could take pictures and white girls with long hair who put in hip hop and sing along can be pretty cute.

probably for two years i didnt look at karisa and that it seems worked out real nice because today i realized that right now she is probably my best friend.

i talk to her more than anyone. i listen to her advice. i love being with her. and if theres one person who knows where im at right now its probably her.

she was driving so fast that the cops couldnt possibly see us and we were at pf changs before the sun went down.

probably ninety percent of the things that ive ever done with karisa were set up through email.

weird if you think about it cuz we've done a shitload of things.

thats weird too. cuz most of the things that weve done were so fun that they havent sunk in yet.

i have the weirdest life, america. we ate like pigs at pf changs. and we drank. then we went across town and drank and played darts and listened to good jukebox music. all these boys filled up the machine but her selections were the best. sexpistols, classic vh, doors, ramones, zep

i kicked her ass at both games of darts. she'd bend over to pick up a fallen dart and try to cover her back so we couldnt see her underwear and i was thinking who ... what...

she used to joke that everyone in the xbi had seen her underwear back when we worked together. and if you were at the powerhouse last night you woulda seen london and france.

she kept holding her belly cuz we ate so much and there we were splitting a pitcher of natty light in a seedy hollywood divebar who had no a/c and was so hot that the girls were glowing as u2 played and people laughed and summer you couldnta come at a better time.

my friends went camping + a tiny movie that greg and i made + nay

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caption this, please

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momma ran off with a trucker, momma ran off with a trucker, momma ran off with a trucker. peterbuilt. peterbuilt.

ive been rocking out to the drive-by truckers and if it wasnt for the kids who turn me on to the good tunes, i dont know what i would do.

the kids have it all. they know it all. they know most, i guess, the rest they get out of me by poking a straw into my head and sucking it out like an orange julius.

they barage me with IMs when im trying to write, and thats nice.

i dont know why i even log on to aim anymore cuz the cute gurls just tease and i have no true loves out there any more and i didnt realize that until last night when one of the teens was interviewing me for their gangblog.

tony, i cant even believe youre letting me interview you this is so friggin cool! they'll type and that makes me happy cuz secretly i cant believe they want to interview me.

so tell us, boxers or briefs?

boxerbriefs.

all they ever want to talk about are hits and sex. im the one who has to ask about music and whats it like to be a highschooler with dsl. can you imagine? there was a whole generation who actually had the internet in highschool but couldnt use it cuz it was tying up the phone line.

then a question came out that caught me off gaurd. actually it wasnt the question, it was the answer that stunned me.

when was the last time you got some?

and i looked at my FHM calander that i was about to flip over. this month Ashanti was checking me out and i flipped it back a month and then another month and i thought, could it be true? here it was July first and i had been shut out not only all of june but all of may too?

two months!

the gasp heard across the broadband was astonishing.

nothing in this interview is true, right?

i told the kid that i only bs in the blog and we were all a little crushed that i -- two months!?

what had i done wrong?

and the astrology? why hadnt brezney warned me about the oncoming draught.

what sort of free astrologer was he pretending to be anyhow?

not even a bj? the fresh faced high schooler asked.

and i love the planet that the kids of america live on. the one that i need to visit one day where the girls will meet you half way with oral copulation as if it were a goodnight hug of somesort. i need directions to that world for it is a loving one. although it probably would give me the creeps. i mean, is that how they tip the pizzaman?

no, nothing i typed. i dont even think i felt a girl up last month i told the lad.

but

then i had to think about if i had even felt up a girl in june. damn memory. damn memento. damn xbi fucking up the program.

but

i felt up an ex girlfriend a few times the second to last time we hung out, but that was for different reasons. purely experimental. a science project was due.

but youre tony pierce.

and thats when i was able to see the drought for what it was. a way for this particular young man to see that even if he grew up to be a world reknown blogger there would be certain months when

well

yeah.

and i wish he had just typed in what i bet he was thinking,

so youre just as lame and pathetic as me?

to which i would have said yes

as the phone rang

clippergirl

back from her vacation.

tanned.

wanting to either fuck or fight.

which is why i let that bad boy ring.

doc searls + internet pundit fantasy camp + buzznet live from wimbeldon

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i eat too much, i drink too much lite beer, i watch too much tv, i answer the phone far too much.

two girls came over tonight with a little thing of marijuana, america, and what are you supposed to do with that?

brazillian girls with the best accents. have i ever told you how i love accents? luuuuuuuuuuuuuv.

they rolled the thing and licked it and made sure it was tight and perfect and narrow and potent which is a trick at my age as the only thing that makes me startle any more is how many morons have control over things.

but im even starting to get used to that.

karma. me and this hot chick were at my doctors office this morning. in the waiting room. she had gotten pink eye but still looked hot. i said whats it like. she said fluid was dripping out of my eye. i said um gross and still undressed her with my eyes. you woulda too.

she asked what i was in for. i told her theyve got to shave another inch off it and both her eyebrows went up.

the girth i assured, just the girth.

picked up a sports illustrated from two months ago. the baseball preview issue and saw who they were picking back in april to do well.

she said maybe we were some evil bastards in a past life if we have to go through this shit now.

and i love girls who swear. it means they whisper the best things when they whisper.

i eat too many doritios and pizza and malt balls and tom kha kai.

im crazy about milk i realize as i say aloud.

and that coulda come out wrong but with some people its impossible. she understood.

she esped me.

what do you want to do right now?

i esped back

write something really good.

she said would you write about me

i said i couldnt even begin to write about you

and she wrote her number down in a subscription card to vice magazine

the nurse called her name

veronica

she got up and walked through the swinging doors without ever looking back at me.

i looked down at the card and above her name she had written

ronnie

and there aint no fucking way im dating a girl name ronnie

no matter how smoking she looked in a business suit, skirt, heels

and pink eye

in a waiting room on fairfax.

laurita + gorilla mask + waterslide

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what do you want them to do when you die? i want there to be a party.

i want there to be several kegs.

i want there to be loud music and bands playing and great food and i dont want people to dress uncomfortably or feel like they have to say good things about me if they dont wanna.

i want ac/dc to play on the boom box, and zep, and the beastie boys, the replacements, the police, and of course all my favorite bands from isla vista, and of course tsar.

i want people to kiss each other and hug.

i would want people to exchange recipies for baked goods, and i want the girls who have crushes on boys to tell at least one of them, and vice versa.

i would want people to wear silly hats and play spin the bottle.

i would want karisa to teach everyone how to play Allen and afterwards nobody drive home drunk because there might be a quota as to how many people make it to heaven on a particular day and i dont need any damn competition.

i would want people to read from the Bible but not in a ned flanders dumbass born again way, but in a real way.

i want someone to say Sodom and Gomorrah had nothing to do with gay people, and then i want a lot of people to say Right On!

i want there to be soul food and soda pop and bacon frying and a barbeque.

i want people to talk about life and love and living and possibilities and how i talked a mighty good game but i hardly lived for the day the way i wish i could live. people like stacy sullivan and dan grant and hillary clinton really lived for the day, but i wouldnt want anyone to talk about politics.

i would want people to get high.

i would want people to dance on my grave.

i would want people to breakdance on my grave.

i dont want flowers, give them to your mommas.

i would want fireworks and a huge makeout session and jello wrestling and happiness.

mallory + doktor frank + three hot chicks living in norman, one named lauren one named kristen!

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things are kind of maney here at the office today. some guy quit and threatened to expose the xbi for what it is. but the stupid thing is the cops, the fbi, and even the judges know what the xbi is and how we grease the wheels of justice.

only people who dont know are the press and some of the press know and keep their mouths shut.

the santa barbara mafia know, but they know everything.

so anyway, now everyone is out to get the guy who is breaking the first rule of fight club.

which is scary cuz we might get found out, but its also fun cuz none of us liked this guy in the first place and everyone has been waiting for this time to beat the crap out of him.

me, i just want to write to you and enjoy the sun and think about fonder days. days when i woke up in the arms of america and was pulled back into bed with gentle pleas and warm caresses and i even was allowed the opportunity to burn a sick day in the name of love and lust.

freedom, where have you flown off to?

dont get me wrong, im not sad. if anything today finds your narrator in great spirits, oddly.

great for no reason.

theres no girl who wants to wear my pin. theres no ball club who wants to pick up my option. theres no weapons inspectors interested in my dirty bombs.

all i have is you bloggy blog.

all i have are these pixels and kilobytes.

some guy wants to know why we will miss miss katherine hepburn and its cuz we are sentimental people who grow to like the actors who perform for us.

someone told me a little story of arnold schwartzennegar and his wife walking down the street the other day and how the public ran out of their doors to hunt him down and demand his attention and his autograph. there is a price of fame which is why karisa doesnt want it. and it doesnt matter if you have more oscars than any other female actress and it doesnt matter if you never will be nominated.

our celebs make us feel better somehow, especially when theyre near us. and for that reason we should give them a break when theyre down on their luck and why we should respect them when they bow out after 96 years.

when i pass away i want people to know that i had an extremely blessed life. that i wasnt born with any obvious deformities. that i had a good childhood and a fine education and loving girlfriends and amazing friends.

and i had what some of the ladies were quoted as calling "magical hands."

which doesnt mean that i shouldnt be remembered fondly when i go.

i guess all i want is to be remembered at all.

which i dont mind doing for miss hepburn today.

inluminent + wKen + mr. pennyworth

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Charlie's Angels 2: Full Throttle
starring Drew Barrymore, Cameron Diaz, Lucy Lui, Demi Moore, Bernie Mac
directed by McG

clippergirls cousin has a funny way about her. she says shes gonna drive me somewhere and then she doesnt take me there. she calls it kidnapping the famous blogger.

i tell her that a thousand readers a day isnt fame. she says i get more than a thousand that my counter is shit. i say even if its two thousand its still not fame. she says everyone wants more. i say i do want more. but not more more, better more. i want girls to fall in love with me more and companies to hand over blank checks more and former english teachers to take it all back more and for me to look at my page a week after and laugh more.

actually i do get that one sometimes.

we were supposed to be heading to the wessssside to go to my old college roommate sam's house to go see a movie together, just he and i but instead she drove me to manns chinese and we watched charlies angels 2, which was a little weird because part of it was filmed there, and ashley was an extra there, and i had never been inside the famous manns chinese ever before.

it was also weird cuz she wanted to hold my hand and i didnt wanna but she insisted and i didnt want to have any bad feelings while we were watching the totally watchable movie.

i love mcg's style and the pace and the imagination of it all. im glad filmmakers are willing to just go crazy in movies now and have fun doing it. it is just a fucking movie, after all. we do want escapism. we dont want to think about jobs and bosses and fighting crime and the fact that after the movie a perfectly good half japanese twenty year old is going to want to get it on and i will have to say no. again.

i can be such a dick when a girl likes me and i dont like her that way and i hate feeling that way. i am not a dick. it makes me totally appreciate karisa cuz she puts up with that all the time and i dont ever see her act differently, i wonder how she does it.

boys do want a little thrill of a chase. and as a libra, i want a little balance. i want her to want me like i want her. and i do want clippergirls cousin on a certain level. it would be fun to just mess around on a sunday night in a scary hollywood park after the softball lights flicker off or behind the three of clubs or in a back seat or in the la coliseum top row with airplanes flying overhead. but this girl is young and she will fall in love and not with me but with the closeness. and who can blame her. youre supposed to, after all.

romance is the one thing thats always missing in action films and it shouldnt be that way. make it a lovestory that gets fucked up by bad guys who kidnap the girl and the guy has to action movie his way into finding her and capturing her. its easy. make him do super romantical things during his quest. make him send homing pigeons to her. make him send smoke signals. make him shoot a guy in the chest with a machine gun and make the bullets form a heart in his torso.

make him have a plane that spells out words in the sky that says tony plus ilka.

make him nearly kill a bad guy and make him take off the bad guys shirt and put on her favorite shirt of his and send him back to the bad guys headquarters. little signs that he loves her and hes thinking of her and he misses her and she should know hes gonna find her and live happily ever after. even though ive never seen one person live happily ever after. never mind two.

the xbi has done things like this before, but not romantic things.

we've carved out messages in the dead hit men before.

i havent, of course. i respect the dead, even though theyre dead. but i dont protest it either because crazy people need to know that theres someone just a little more crazy out there, and it helps if the crazy think that the super crazy work with me and will carve some shit into them if theyre caught slippin.

afterwards we ate at mcdonalds and didnt talk about the film, but talked about the music and the tshirts instead.

i thought about ashley alot while watching the movie and when i got home she had called and clippergirls cousin was stepping into something a lot more comfortable and she sneered at the caller id that said "ashley, cell phone".

shes a darker skinned girl. i think shes part hawaiian and when shes naked it doesnt seem naked it seems normal. especially on a warm june night when im not going to have sex with her im not even gonna kiss her and im listening to evan dando sing with julianna hatfield about being drug buddies and im past doing drugs anymore but i still appreciate that song cuz its about friendship and im such a big fan of that even though im a rotten friend and that was the best theme of charlies angels two: full throttle.

that, and that demi moore is still a hot piece of ass.

shellen + vodka pundit + little green footballs

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being the holy day, today we're going to outright steal something from someone else's blog because it's wonderful.

Tuesday, June 17, 2003

Not at all interesting:

I know you all love my inane blather so much that you haven't really missed the inclusion of photos in my posts, but I have decided to bring them back because, well, I like looking at celebrities of either gender in low-cut ensembles, so you are just going to have to deal with it.

This weekend I wasn't very productive. I basically just spent a lot of time sleeping fitfully because it's so fucking hot on the third floor of my loft, but there is no other place for me to sleep so I just turn the fan to the highest setting, point it at myself and then grab onto something so I don't get blown off the bed. I did go out and get my friend Karen some bourbon for her birthday present, because nothing says friendship like hard liquor. Her birthday party was funtimes and I got to reconnect with a couple of ladies that I think are pretty kickass, and since I'm now a freewheelin' single gal, I'm glad I have some other freewheelin' single gals to hang out with when we go out somewhere, because really, if you are a single gal and you go out by yourself you're really not all that freewheelin'.

Yesterday I took the day off work because I really needed a fucking day off already. Plus, I had an appointment for a physical, and sometimes physicals are kind of traumatic, so I wanted to have the rest of the day off in case I needed to recover from all the horrific poking and prodding. Fortunately there wasn't much poking and there was very little prodding. I think my regular doctor saves all the prodding action for my gynecologist, which I will be sure to describe for you in detail after my next pap smear. Anyway, I got a clean bill of health except for my dirty bastard of a stomach, but I already knew that was fucked up so I wasn't really surprised. My doctor thinks that all of my stomach problems are due to a sensitivity to wheat gluten, which permeates the very soul of our culture and is extremely hard to avoid, so she is sending me to a gastroenterologist to have my gutmeats examined. I think that all my stomach problems can probably be traced to my rampant alcoholism and tendency to internalize all of my stress to the point where I think my brainmeats might implode, but I'm no doctor, so I'll go see the gut dude. In any case, as far as my doctor is concerned, I am totally and completely normal and healthy.

She didn't examine my other four personalities, though, so I guess there will always be some doubt as to my true overall health status.

dirtyfez.com

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bunnie can do it and shes a girl, so i can definitely break a piece off. clippergirls cousin called me drunken and cutesy but she doesnt know that thats not what im looking fur. ive dropped the eighteen to twentyfives outta my friendster cuz they just dont get it. its noon its hot. last night she wanted to come over and watch tv which means makeout and i dont know why i push her away but i do. its the same as the other ones. some girls you want to make out with and thats it some gurls you want to girlfriend and thats it some gurls you want to marry and thats it. she i wanted to go to maui with and thats it and we did and we're back and i just want her to go be her and me be me and of course i wanted to make out with her cuz shes great at it and has this magical way of kissing but im not gonna run around and kiss her and her cousin all summer and think im gonna get away with that. there are no free lunches and there are no free bjs you pay and pay and pay and some things are worth it and some arent and im not. its hot. hi summer. hi tony. hi smiley face. hi tony :) does it bother you that youre always sideways. nope :) does it bother you that people totally make fun of you and your cousins. nope :) are you always happy? yep :) can you do any imitations? yeah this is me being sad :( :) i got the new playboy today in the mail. the one with the survivor girls in it. i think if i was more conventional and "with it", i would do little reviews of stuff. like the restaurants i ate at and the products i used and the tv shows i watch and of course the magazines i read.

the new playboy makes me worried about the new playboy because it is now being edited by the former editor of fhm uk or maxim uk or something like that which on paper sounds like a perfect idea because for ever playboy had about 10 interesting pages out of 175 even though it was showing us the hottest girls in the world even though there would sometimes be naked celebrities even though they could talk about Anything in the world including ties briefcases british motorcycles jazz being cool and blah blah blah. they could interview celebs in a cool way, they could show us the sweetest clothes in a non gay way, and flow with the excerpts of books as yet to be released. semi sexy short stories, sexy advice, sexy news... and yet they hardly ever did. and sorry but the babes were rarely the hottest in the world. blasphemy? hardly. not only was there a humongous need for a breath of fresh air, but there needed to be a tent full of fresh air and i see that slowly thats happening as the new editor takes over.

but this months worries me because they have pics of that fat wilson phillips girl who stapled her stomach and lost a ton of weight. and she looks good. thats the surprising thing. she cheated and she worked at it and the makeup and clothes are right and bam there she is all famous and skinnier and still a little roundy but looking fine all boobies sticking out and everything and what worries me is playboy doesnt make any mention of it on their cover. people dont want to see how the girl looks? playboy doesnt want to advertise that not everyone is going to be a size 2? have they forgotten that anna nicole smith has been on the cover over and over and she was never a waifer? have they forgotten that... whatever... theyve forgotten. theyre so worried about their pigskin previews that they have put the boobies on the backburner. look no further than the centerfolder.

and the survivor girls look good. in real life. on tv. standing on a log begging for ice cream. and playboy used to do a great job of hiding the not perfect parts of their sweet tarts. but for some reason they want us to know over and over that jenna doesnt have the greatest boobs. they hide the fake tit scars of the blonde next to her, but they dont even think twice about posing the winner of the show like shes a winner.

must i teach the world to sing?

rule number one of playboys new management should be no old poses. its the female form. its the finest worksong. its the best money can buy and they dont even try. its all playboy pose #5 followed by playboy pose #6. its a reality show set in the woods. toss those two little tramps in the woods and have them out sexy each other. get twenty up n coming photogs to hide in the forest and gang photoshoot em. like a bukkake party but without the mess and degradation.

take the ten best pics and put them in the mag. then take the next ten best pics and put them in the back. then take the next ten pics and put them on playboy dot com for free cuz in the world of the innernet i am never on playboy dot com and thats how you get me there. but i like what you did with their hair.

cubs sox are on and my man sam wants me to see charlies angels with him after he wins a velvet armani sweat suit off ebay. its hot its summer im loving it. my sodas are chillin in the fridge and i have so much to do on the web site and blog that im thinking about saying fuckit and just taking that bus to the beach and taking picture after picture for your asses not cuz you deserve it but cuz i deserve it cuz it could have been so easy to just taken advantage last night and i didnt and it might not be tough for you but its tough for me and most the times i dont do it but last night i nearly did and by nearly i mean nearly as fuck.

alecia + the ward + azarok

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