tony + mary!
busblog at gmail dot com

nothing in here is true


   Saturday, September 27, 2003  
who are the divisional champs in the central?

your chicago cubs.
cubs magic number?

face it, you're falling in love with jessica simpson, we all are. she might be sometimes, but mtvs not dumb, they knew they had a gold mine in their hands.

already made cash cows out of the mousekateers, now mtv has a mmc reject who might not dress as dirrty but sure can sing like a womoan.

you think jessica would make a good blogger? i do.

if she wanted i would be her ghost writer. but only if she never mentioned her husband. who doesnt love her. who really seems gay for most of his day until he goes to strip clubs.

he just married his peice of ass wife and she complains, ive probably only seen you 5 days this whole month, and his response is, well whose fault is that?


she married a gay man.

it happens.

liza did it. nicole did it. and anna just did it.

why not? gay guys make great husbands. just look how pretty her house is.

i got no problem with gay guys, i just wish theyd leave some of the hot ones for the rest of us.

i always thought they could dance better though.

i can dance as good as that dude.


the cubs play a double header today and my directv was scaring me cuz its saying that neither of the games will be televised to my beach home.

good thing i rented a car just incase this very situation came up.

where is my pirated dss card when i need it, i asked myself.

heres a question that jessica and i would discuss after we made love for the fourth time that morning.

baby, is it stealing if it's not even for sale?

im sorry tony, what are you saying?

well sweetheart, you know i would pay anything Anything to see this cubs doubleheader right now, right? cubs only have three games to play, theyre a half game in front of the astros, and if they win both of these games today then they are guaranteed to at least be tied for first place in the nl central.

yes, i know youd pay anything to see that on our tv as we make more love, yes...?

well directv isnt showing it on the baseball package that i paid $175 for. it's not on the channel owned by the newpaper that owns the cubs, wgn. it's not on the total sports network, espn. and its not on the west coast fox channel because theyre showing the braves game. so my question is: is it stealing if i used the pirated dss card to decode the local fox channel if i cant buy it on my directv?

is it for sale?


is it priceless?

hmmm. sorta, but people in chicago get to pay for it.

then no, it's not stealing, cuz theyre being mean about who gets to see it.

i love you baby.

i love you tony.

and then we'd order pizza and get cleaned up to go to a sports bar for game two of the twin bill since the braves game got preempted cuz someone at fox removed their heads from their asses and are showing not just the cubs, but the second place astros on the split screen

if only one of the television broadcast geniuses figured out how to show game two of the doubleheader i wouldnt have to get out of my pajamas today.

and my girlfriend jessica simpson could have her way with me for a few more hours.

but life isnt fair.

and the only true geniuses are the ones over at mtv.

and whoever invented the gillette mach three.

damn thats a close shave.

geoff sucks + the II stacks + bunnie

   Friday, September 26, 2003  
caption this, please

im glad im older. ive learned a lot of things in my 109 years. ive just started to learn not to take things personally. that was a tough one. i still do sometimes like when semi-super models pull down my sweatpants and then point and laugh and try to stop themselves but then errupt into uncontrollable laughter as they put their tight sweaters back on and laugh right out the door.

ive learned to be more patient. but not all that much. i guess thats the one i need the most help with because life is fragile and time flies and between my reckless bus drivers and my penchant for greasy foods, my days walking this crust are few and far between and while im here i wouldnt mind meeting more people and spreading good will towards men and better will towards women.

speaking of which, last night at the tsar show, a very nice young woman introduced herself to me right in the middle of tsar rocking out. she said, hi, i read your blog all the time. i smiled and said, wow. thanks! then she told me that she had just moved out to LA and i clinked glasses with her but the magic of my favorite band was luring me away from any conversations, sweet as they might be.

anyway, nice young lady, thank you for saying hi to me, im sorry i didnt see you after the set, but i looked for you and then was rushed out the side door to my waiting limo. say hi to me at the next tsar show and i will be sure to buy you a welcome-to-hollywood shot of booze.

where was i? oh yes. major disappointments. i mean lessons. ive learned a lot of lessons over the centuries and one of them is how to deal with disappointments and failures. the hippies may scoff at sports, but if sports teach one thing it's how to handle defeat.

some blow their stack and make a big sloppy mess after they dont get what they were shooting for, but nobody likes those people and that sort of energy rarely helps you win the next time. me, i prefer to shake hands with everyone afterwards and buy a round of drinks.

when i was younger i might have held a grudge or decided, ever idealistically, that if someone said no to me once that i wouldnt want anything to do with them ever again because they obviously didnt "get" me. ive learned over time that you should never burn a bridge unless its a terrible bridge that might already be on fire. and seriously, how many bridges have you seen lately that are on fire? outside of iraq, not very many.

what else have i learned over the years? always bet on black. never send a woman flowers unless shes your mother. and wear condoms every, single, time.

ive also learned that grammar and spelling are over-rated. always ask for exactly what you want. be super polite at all times. pray every day. be grateful for everything because in an instant it can go away. if some lame ass wants to blog war you, state your case, dont link them, and then move on.

and by all means, never bore your readers. ever.

reward people for reading your shit, and if you cant do it with your words, do it with your links.

my second favorite shirt on my favorite redsox fan + sk smith + popie
tsar came down from the heavens last night in eastern hollywood to deliver the good news and layeth the smackdown and they cranked their shit to eleven and pretty much busted the eardrums of anyone within the first fifty rows and i just stood there like heston infront of the burning bush turning grey overnight and i have seen the light and its letters flash t s a r, for the big bad wolf is knocking at your door modern rock alternative radio and he has dyed his hair shit brown and hes coming for whats his and you better give it up or he'll spin that fckr to twelve.

opening up for the epoxies and the starlight vocal band, tsar did rock and roll a favor last night by being the last minute replacements and sacrificing their good names by accepting the 9:30p chump openers role. didnt matter, they still blew the lights out. they still kicked ass and took names. they still passed the dutchee on the left hand side, wild eyed and crazy like maidens eddie, they still gave us our what for, they still didnt ask for an encore and were pleaded to give one but refused cuz theyre punk rock and powerful and tight like a youknowwhat and meaty like a hamhat.

defying all possible sensibilities and laws of gravity, tsar blasted through their newest material so as to beat it into our collective unconsiousness, hardly taking a break to chew ones curd, the brunette lead singer songwriter flopped around the stage cocksure and righteous pissed at the world for what it hadnt done for it and poised to take what is owed to them so lock up the lockers and lay down the liars cuz justice isnt blind, its bitter and it has a message from another time and it wont be brought to you by budweiser.

despite talking hella shit about weezer back in the day, tsar apparently got hollywood records (disney) to break open the marketing department vault and spend a little money (little being the key word) on some weezer-esque lights (pictured) which may or may not have blown out the stage lights of the sparse spaceland stage and which may or may not have been made on the floor of the tsar practice room with construction paper, spraypaint, and ninety nine cent store lightbulbs.

long live the mouse.

and my ears are still ringing and its almost lunch time. and my hearts still exploding and its months till the cd drops. and if you dont see these masters of the the midway within these next six weeks in hollywood as they get their shit together before going on their world tour then you really dont love rock music. its time to stare into the sun, friends. and this is the music you'll melt to.

sea of angels + van mega + splinkie
theres lots of ghosts in this machine. lots of creepy crawly spirits and spooks haunting every line in this woven tale. and today is the birthday of one of our favorites. mr. ken basart.

os runs the backbone, the ladies inspire the heart, and ken tidies up the huge glaring fuckups left behind from the parade of elephants.

im a lazy writer. on kens birthday i wouldnt soil his good name with lies. im lazy as it gets.

im also not a fan of myself, so i barely re-read what i write unless i get in an extremely narcisitic mood, which isn't often. so its good to have a fresh, unspoiled mind, educated in what doesn't suck, to waltz in after the major work is finished and smooth out the rough edges. and that's where basart earns his keep.

and the price is right.

when basart asked for the job i inquired his rate and he told me that he wanted to make whatever magic johnson got in his last laker deal, so i set him up with a 25 million dollar contract over 25 years.

to play point guard for the lakers.

since editing the busblog doesn't pay shit.

i first met ken basart outside a seven eleven on haight street when he asked me for spare change and i stepped on his birkenstock.

a huge fan of old school hip hop, basart not only can recite most of the def jam catalogue circa 1985, but will, endlessly, especially if a tumbler of whiskey is in his hand. so be careful.

devastated when jam master jay passed away recently, ken turned over a new leaf and began volunteering on skid row in los angeles's historic downtown district.

a master at trivia, you may have seen ken on the comedy central game show win ben stiens money where he not only shook down the famous character actor, but beat his ass in the greenroom and stole the hosts bow tie.

even though he's one of my closest friends, i have no idea where he lives.

although i understand its less than a mile from where i reside.

so lets take this moment to wish a happy 67th birthday to my close personal friend and organizer of the now-infamous coulter klassic bachelor party and theme park, my pal, ken basart, managing editor of the busblog.

coulter klassic + drunks + ken writes about ken

   Thursday, September 25, 2003  
sammy sosa hit two home runs tonight but it was two too few as the cubs fell to the reds 7-9 dropping them out of sole possession of first place in the national league central and into a dead heat with the houston astros with three games left to play in the season.

all in the friendly confines of wrigley field.

against the lowly pirates from pittsburg.

so im not worried.

just waiting.

houston cant keep winning every damn game, and if they do, good for them.

this is a three game horse race now. a sprint. a fuck you i aint losin any more games. every game is everything. and it will be mine in time.

cubs lost tonight to a terrible reds team but they lost after scoring seven runs from eleven hits. i can be ok with that because the pitching will never be that bad again.

tonight dusty baker is saying this is the bottom of the barrel. this is rock bottom gentlemen, this is as low as it will ever get. for if we get this low again in the next three days, then we're out.

this close to going to the dance with the pretty girl.

who wants to go to the dance.

right over here you have mr sammy sosa. seems to me that mr sosa wants to go to the pretty girl dance. i just need one more person to want it as bad as mr sosa and we can all go. three days is all i need from you. lets do this for our buddy sammy sosa.

and the cub fans of chicago who will all lose their minds simultaneously spontaneously and internationally.

some of you have never and will never get this close to that bling and despite what mr steinbrenner believes this bling isnt sold in stores.

you have the chance to become part of not only world series history but major league baseball history, the cubs team that could. three days of rock n roll. three days of focus. three days of meditation and prayer. and three days that you will only experience winning.

thank you for your efforts today.

see you motherfuckers at wrigley.

solo + the faith fools + another friend of the busblog who's a blog of note: ultrablognetic
did i tell you that tsar is playing tonight? yes. they are.

at spaceland.

their home.

because they love survivor, they will come on immediately after the show. which is 9pm for you heathens.

heres what the local paper said about our boys in the Calendar Weekend sextion.

page E23:

Eddie Van Halen was among the stars who turned out to see the Darkness perform at the Roxy Monday... Speaking of arena rock, L.A.'s own thundering qartet, Tsar, will be ripping it up at Spaceland tonight...

I'd like to link you to the online version of the paper but the LA Times seems intent on shooting themselves in the foot and making their journalism only available on the Internet for free to 7-day subscribers. which makes so much sense because 7-day subscribers... never mind.

fuck the la times.

la times: fuck you.

there was some sort of brew ha ha about the Sacramento Bee and a blog they had that suddenly started getting edited because ... whatever.

people wanted me to comment on it but fuck the la times, and fuck sacramento.

i like the Bee but fuck them.

sacramento is just a place the lakers play on their way to winning the championship.

and thats all it will ever bee.

during the hub bub the idea that real journalists love being edited and fake journalists hate being edited. welch called bs on it and i do too.

with that said, heres an email from my editor that i thought you'd like to see.

i use an editor because i have a good friend who reads what i write way more carefully than i do, and he works for cheap, and cuz im lazy and sloppy. not because im a real journalist or even for that matter a real blogger.

i like having a second pair of eyes but even with a dozen extra pair of eyes youre still going to end up with Dewey Defeats Truman or fatty fatty two by four, so whatever.

To: Tony Pierce
Subject: edit

Tone, please spell everything correctly tomorrow because I am off to NYC for my b-day and won't be able to edit all weekend.

My birthday wish?

That you remember how to spell Mark Prior's name, the word "tongue", and the word "definitely".


P.S. Got a ticket to Radiohead so won't be at Tsar show tonight.

amako + zero 79 + socially retarded
ive been on rogaine for three months and i didnt take it with me to chicago cuz i wasnt seeing any results and then i got back home and wham.

im not a vain man, obviously. for if i was i would care about the grammar and spelling of this deal. but i have grown comfortable with my fro. and the ladies seem to like it, but this (pictured) is ridiculous.

cheerleaders showed up last night. ready to rock.

i got the boombox out of the bathroom and brought it into the guest bedroom cuz the girls like to make a mess wherever we happen to be.

i lit candles and closed the windows as the ladies climbed into their outfits.

the party started. i chose the jesus and mary chain-esque Ravonettes as the music for the evening. rocking, but mellow, romantic yet with an edge. copycat, but a fair copy. im open minded. i forgive.


soon we were all twisted and upsidedown and backwards and heavy into it. quickly i was happy that i had locked the windows because it became loud and i get nervous about my neighbors thinking that either someone is being killed or that im watching an adult film at a high volume. for some reason i do care what they think. yes, im nuts.

sheets were ripped off the corners of the mattress, pillows hurled, clothes damaged, scratch marks created, posters injured, rhythms established.

after awhile i was working on just one of the ladies, concentrating, creating, being one with the energy, breathing, etc. while the other ran out for some whipped cream and restraints.

we had a little thing happening. a good thing. i would be more descriptive but confidences would be abused. lets just say that everything was going wonderfully.

and then the cd skipped

and then it skipped again.

then it gave that modern dududududududududu sound.

it threw me.

she whispered how good it felt.

chicks never pay attention to the rock.

i tried to refocus on her which i did for a sec but i couldnt


damn cd. it would get hung up for a sec and then pause, make it to the next measure and get stuck again. the most hideous sounds.

my girl didnt care. she was seeing stars. she was hooked on a feeling. she was barely legal and nearly there.

thanks to the absinthe i wasnt anywhere near there so when it became obvious that the cd needed to go to the next track i climbed off and hit the forward button and returned to the scene of the slime.

my cheerleader wasnt at all pleased as she caught her breath.

sorry baby, that was killing me, i told her.

i hate you she said and dug her pearly whites into my neck and we went back at it.

her cousin soon returned and everything went very nicely until the post game interviews when she told the press that she hated the fact that i paused and left her stranded right on the peak of mt. olympus to mess with the stupid cd. i explained that i thought she was being as distracted as i was.

she said, fuckhead, did i seem distracted? color still on her flushed cheeks.

and if i dont wire my guest room to accept the mp3 feed from my 400mhz computer im a dumbass.

even though im one anyway. but at least my fro is back.

tres biatches + jarret house + sahalie
people want to know who won the gubernatorial debate last night. the terrorists won.

if there are any terrorists alive, theyre laughing at us.

and they should. this debate convinced me that i need to vote, and i need to vote for arnold.

why? because the ship is going down. because the right is dragging us down with them. because reagan bush taught us that you dont have to be qualified to run and win and do terribly and nobody will care. and because clinton gore taught us that you dont have to be qualified to run and win and do wonderfully and nobody will care or defend you. so if i have to have a clown lie to me and fuck up, may as well be one who smoked weed before jumping into an orgy.

not that television isnt more entertaining than ever.

do you know the cubs are in first place, and they were yesterday too?

my true love called me today and i told her some nasty things that i wanted to do to her and she ignored me which i love. then she asked me about the white stripes concert and i told her that i saw her old boss in the front row and she said yeah and then i told her that the cubs won today 8-0 to stay in first place.

and she said, wait, your cubs?

and i said yeah.

and she said theyre seriously in first place?

and i said, yeah, i know, weird huh?

and it is dreamlike and dreamy and unreal and unbelieveable. its a dream come true. more than i expected. the happiest accident and the answer to our prayers.

three dynamite pitchers and two monster powerhitters.

prior wood zambrano.

and then shawn estes today shut out the reds.

like in dating, pitching is 90 percent of the game. that means the cubs have the edge in pretty much any matchup from houston to boston.

this very well might be the year

and if they do it, terrorism will be forgotten. we will be able to go back to how we once lived: carefree and trusting.

sepi's birthday gift arrived today and for that i thank her, but if only i could ask for a cubs world series ring off my amazon wishlist.

meanwhile i will vote for the terminator and enjoy the show.

trueboy + linda + ken layne at his best

   Wednesday, September 24, 2003  
my comments company seems to be a little fubar today so we'll just have to go olde school and do this shit without the sweet words from you to me.


my girl kristin took a hit from some canadian nerds who think that shes changed and no longer writes well and she thinks that shes all that, which she is, but they dont like it cuz shes not theirs all theirs.

and they of course tried to bash her for being in a sorority and liking to shop and being nice enough to take pictures of herself, which are easy criticisms delivered by pimply faced boys who dont know how to talk about how they really feel.

blogging can be tough once you start getting more than 5 hits a day from your mom.

once you hit a certain level everyone becomes a critic, and when you put yourself out there for who you are, people can start to attack you over the dumbest things, and you know what, if i was a hot chick and if people wanted to see pictures of me, i would show you pictures every damn day of me. shit, im not even a hot chick and just to show my solidarity to kristin im going to post of picture of my swill mug in my very next post and you know what, people will bitch about that saying, wheres the models.

you cant win when you blog. strike that, yes you can.

heres how to win when you blog:


write all the time. i say write every day. i actually say write many times a day, but write. write when youre bored, write when youre inspired, write when youre tired, write after you 69ed a girl for a half hour and then flipped over and banged for a half hour more. write about not getting any, write about getting more that you deserve, write about sports, write about politics, write about your car, your cat, your dog, the shit between your toes, write about the shit between your toes that smells like your dog.

snipers will take their dumb little shots, but thats when you know youve made it.

another way to know is if you see your name on as a blog of note, but beware because that will just ring the comeandgetit bell for all the losers to come and get jealous. which can become tiresome.

sad thing is that the madponies link these fools and then have to put up with them talking trash. thats not cool. none of its cool, but kristin and lauren have hopefully learned a valueable lesson: only the busblog will love them until infinity unconditionally.

only the busblog remembers that when we first met kristin and lauren one was a sorority girl and the other was a jailbait hottie, and since nothing has changed, theres not a problem. busblog isnt afraid to say that someone underage is cute. and many other blogs dont seem to have a problem with that either.

but this blog has always been slightly more attracted to the darker haired girls, especially those with southern accents, and old fashioned charm. and the only change that ive seen in is that theyve become increasingly more popular and has handled that popularity with grace and an identifiably lack of ego.

lesson to the canucks: sorority girls take a ton of pictures. get used to it. and good looking sorority girls like kristin and her sisters do the world a great service by showing us their sparkely smiles. dont you see?

well, maybe not, but its nice to look at when youre done saving the world.

anyway, kristin and lauren, i like your old stuff, i like your new stuff, im cool with you changing, as you're likely to do since youre totally young girls, and i look forward to seeing how you continue to grow.

and after that last line, im very happy that there are no comments on this post.

madpony + goobita + ginger + dead bus dot org
the white stripes have snuck into the tony little hilltop outdoor theatre called the greek with some snotty little loud friends the yeah yeah yeahs and hot hot heat and summoned the ghosts of robert johnson and jimmy page and danced with the devil 'neath the pale moon light, and people if this is the future of rock n roll sign my jaded ass up.

the yeah yeah yeahs made me want to get out of the pinks hotdog line and shreik right along with holly gorockly, i have no idea what that crazy chick is all worked up about but maybe it had something to do with rock being dead and it needing 1000 ccs of post postpunk to snap it out of its john mayer coma.

she pouted and pranced and yelled and culled up the bile from on top of the hollywood hillside and turned that shit into shinola and paved the way for the jack n meg one two punch and by punch i mean upside yr head.

supporting the best record to come out this year, elephant, the stripes are back on the road after jack injured his hand after holding it too tightly with renee zellweger. pretty much the only respectable alt rock on the billboard top forty (currently hovering at #38), the brother sister ex wife ex husband power couple of the year took the stage and laid down the blues with the unrelentless vengeance upon the record industry, most of whom were in attendance to witness what could only be considered soul music.

as in music of the soul as in music that gets into every crevice of your soul as in music that makes the guitarist take the strap off and show the crowd the chord and then the drummer and then the amp.

soul music unlike anything since stevie ray vaughn and hendrix and early clapton. super early clapton when he didnt give a fuck. jack white fell to his knees and it wasnt bullshit, it was the spirit of rock who brought him to his knees and pushed his nose into the twangy roots of bb and muddy and reinvent themselves through the swirly peppermint facade of the two whitest blues stars in america.

ninety one percent blues and nine percent satan was the formula and even the keyboards couldnt stand up straight, they fell over, were retrieved and sounded better for the fall, all old skool and damp and moody and ideal.

i can usually keep my cool at a concert. i can usually tap my feet to the slowjam beat like the one delivered perfectly by the super femme meg and her lil pigtails, but jack white had me gyrating around like a spastic born-again during the frenzied peak of a tent revival.

more than once i cried out hallelujah to the highest and i wasnt the only one. the hipster girls in their red dresses twirled and did the bump and the baldie boys bobbed their domes.

suprisingly older crowd at the classic griffith park amphitheatre which is too bad because most of us have seen it all, its the kids with the linkin park patches on their backbacks who could have used the force of the seven nation army realized in just two kids from motown to let them know what rock tastes like. and its nothing like the candy theyve been spoonfed all their soft lives. the stripes showed last night that its murky and metallic and mysterious and moody, and best served hot on a cool september eve.

cubs won. theyre alone at the top.

blackmask + dirty fez + i heart kate sullivan

   Tuesday, September 23, 2003  
im seeing the white stripes tonight with my old college roommate, and his kickass wife, and my supermodel skinny college xgirlfriend, and we're sitting somewhere in the first 10-12 rows, at the greek theatre, which is about a mile from my house, outside, under the stars, and the yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeahs are opening.

and the cubs have six games left to play and theyre against chumps. and the cubs have kerry wood pitching tonight. and its nice to have wood. and it means that if they need him theyve got wood on the sixth game. and mark prior the guy who should win the cy young will pitch in game 5 and carlos zambrano who i adore will pitch probably tomorrow. so we have three of the top 5-6 pitchers throwing in 4 out of the 6 games that we need to win. so thats good.

but im not happy.

and im refreshed from my trip and my hair is coming back, miraculously, cuz i guess rogaine sorta works, and my email is blowing up with all the lovelies who want to hook up, but the ones i want to write me emails arent doing it, and i wonder if thats why im not happy and of course it is. its the libra curse. everything can be going right for you but if the right girl doesnt say the right thing which is usually along the lines of god i need you god youre the best god youre the perfect man then its almost like nothing is good in the hood.

tsar is playing a secret early show on thursday at spaceland and youd think that makes me happy. it does. do you think that makes me satisfied. hmm. hard to tell. you think that makes this glass half full, no, it doesnt, cuz theyre not going to start it off with hells bells and theyre not going to end it all with for those about to rock, but they are the best band in america and hollywood records must be libras too cuz they look at tsar and say whatever. no, whatever to you hollywood records, and whatever to the girl who said whatever to me today when i told her that my heart was breaking. and whatever to the other who sent me the most wonderful pictures but then doesnt want to follow it up with a little stroll around mammory lane. on one hand i can be the most grateful wonderful man in the world and then in the very next second all i can see is what i dont have and that list can just go on and on till the break of dawn.

jlo and ben got hitched in georgia my space watch tells me and i gave it the tivo triple red thumbs down cuz i dont care about that sort of news cuz i would make a far better beau to jlo than benlow, i wouldnt go to any damn strip clubs unless i was a judge at the jlo lookalike stripalike contest and one day there will be a wishingwell and there will be a penny and there wil be a dream and there will be a toss and it will flip in the air fly through the sky splash in the pond and sparkle my eye and everything will fall in place and she will see my face and not look away but instead say stay.

and if you dont think im getting fucking plastered tonight youre high.

21mm + totally awesome + ham fisted theatrics
today is bruce springsteen's 54th birthday

why dont you say a few nice things about the boss
this weekend found me constantly surrounded by lovely ladies not only did i have a pleasant time with my sister, my mom, and my little niece kyla, but i got to sit next to the hottest babe on the plane who just happened to have a seat next to me in first class which made the cross country trip speed by.

got picked up by the beautiful jeanine natale who drove me home and took me grocery shopping. i heated up a hungry man dinner, put my feet up and passed out.

now im back at the xbi and things are crazy.

i dont know how they could be less crazy.

but i am still writing you because i love you.

i appreciate all the constructive criticsm that you all left for me in yesterdays comments section and also in the emails that you sent me. its all very confusing, as i predicted. half of you are saying dont change a thing, the other half are saying to change everything.

half are saying no xbi, half are saying mo xbi.

half are saying no more politics because it makes you feel so very dirty and ignorant for sticking with our president, the other half are saying please tony please there are no other strong liberal voices out there in the blogosphere please write more about the president and his ridiculous rule since nobody else has the nads to call an idiot an idiot.

so i dont know what to do. because most of this is for me, but most of it is for you. if i just wanted to write whatever then why make it public. so i do want to please you, the reader. i do want to give you what you so need. i do want to fill in the gaping holes left by the left and how they are writing about this fascinating period in politics, sports, and life in the fast lane.

all i know is i want to write. something. anyting. to you. or maybe to those who havent even read this yet.

all i know is i want to write less about my life and more about other peoples lives but it doesnt look like i will have that chance this calendar year unless something unexpected and wonderful happens, which is possible. wonderful things seem to follow me around.

speaking of which, kristina, my row 5 buddy, if you did remember my name and found this, it was really fun talking to you for 4 hours as we drank red wine and bitched about the hollywood machine. if you made it here, this is a blog. this is what all writers should have, in my opinion.

and to google, thank you. the nice girl kept repeating my name so she could remember it so she could type it into her url box, and finally i said, just type "tony" into Google and i should be the second or third return. so thank you google, youve made my life so much easier.

she asked me why my blog was so popular and i didnt know what to tell her. she asked me if i had pictures up and i said lots, and she asked me if there were any nudes and i said, no, to which she said good, but then she said, so why do people come to your page, and i said i didnt know.

she asked me how people learned about my page and i said word of mouth. and she said by what? she works in the entertainment industry filled will multi million dollar marketing campaigns where word of mouth doesnt really exist.

she asked me how i got my name so high in the google search deal and again i said i dont know.

so maybe one day these answers will be revealed but until then i have 250 emails in my inbox which means i probably wont update again until tonight, so enjoy this little picture of me and my niece and my new hat and my new tshirt.

its good to be home, its nice to write to all of you today but theres crime out there to fight and chopper one has missed me.

azarok + gorillamask + orby

   Monday, September 22, 2003  
im about to head off back to hollywood. where i belong.

so since i wont be able to write anything else today, this might be the perfect day for you to write to me.

once a year i ask you, the readers, if there is anything that you would like to see more of or less of.

usually people just say, keep on doing what youre doing, and i guess thats feedback, but i hope theyre not saying that just cuz theyre afraid to say what they really feel.

so would you like more stories about the hot babes that knock on my door, more about hollywood, more about the xbi, more politics, more sports, more current events, less photo essays, less grammar mistakes, less sad things, more happy things, whatever.

here is the time to speak or forever hold your peace.

until i ask again.

is there anything you'd like to see on this blog that you have seen on other blogs?

what about design. how would you redesign this thing if you could? should i get some hotshot to redesign it more functionally, or is it better that everything on here i do myself?

should i write more longer pieces? do i put too many pictures on here? is it too slow to load?

do i ever make this too unsafe for work? should i tune it down? or would you like it spicier?

last year people asked for less song lyrics, so i obliged.

is that still the case, would you still like less song lyrics?

whatever. maybe theres something that youve always wanted to see here, or you wince whenever you see it here, and this is your chance to say something. if you feel weird about putting it in the comments, feel free to email me at and it will be taken into consideration.

anyway, if you see a united airlines plane flying over your town between now and when i land, wave to the sky and i will blow you a kiss from my leather seat in first class with a stewardess on my lap.


splink cracks me up + amy is my hero + ken layne's gonna give it to you

   Sunday, September 21, 2003  
man did i have a great time coming back home this time. and all of the credit has to go to my sister who made it all happen and for that i must thank her repeatedly.

i dont think you people understand what a terrible brother i was, and am. and im not even really that great of a son.

tonight my mom and i were driving back from downtown chicago and even though she is only 27, she sometimes acts like an old woman. for example when i drive her places she puts her head down and looks at her cell phone. she cant stand not being in control in the passengers seat and she doesnt like it when people drive too close to each other.

dont you believe in the lord anymore, ma, i ask her.

of course i do, i just dont believe that person OH SHOOT! and she'll stomp her foot down on the invisible brake, i dont believe that person sees you over here, she'll finish.

so were about to take a long swinging curve over a freeway. one of those overpass dealies thats like a quarter mile high and a half mile long. and she said, i really hate this curve, and i said, why, and she said i just really hate it and before she could get the words out i punch the gas and she screamed. but i really only made it sound bad, the car didnt really accellerate and she said if you want to make me cry do that again, but please dont do that again.

and i laughed cuz i am the original bart simpson, especially around my family.

so we picked up some chinese and got home and walked across the street to my sisters house and after dinner we heard the little baby on the baby monitor start to cry, so my mom went upstairs and got her out of the crib, walked downstairs and gave her to my sister.

the little angel was tired, probably had a bad dream, but looked adorable, as always. she sucked her thumb and cuddled with her mommy. after awile my mom held her, then i held her but she started to cry for her mom. so we gave her back. then i got my camera and i asked my sister, hey can i take a picture of her crying? and my mom said, shes not crying, and i said, not yet.

so my sister laughed and said, please dont tell anyone that i am letting you do this.

and my mom said, tony dont do anything to that child.

and i took the baby from her mother and stood her up on the coffee table and i put the camera on movie mode and sure enough within seconds she slowly erupted in little tears and cries and i laughed and everyone laughed cuz the damn kid was so cute, and i got my thirty seconds of baby crying and i kissed her cheek and delivered her back to her mom and my mom said, you havent changed a bit.

which is true.

i still suck.

we figured out that it has been 5 years since ive last been home. and it was 5 years since i was back before that. thats sorta outrageous. but coming back here is terribly emotional for me. i had such an out of the ordinarily great childhood that it is really too super freaky to come back here and see it all changed and lots of things, like my kindergarten, razed, and replaced with nothing.

the farm where we never got our eggs, gone.

the old amusement park, adventurland, leveled to put in an Allstate office.

the field that i used to golf in with range balls stolen from the nearby golf range, converted into a newer improved golf range.

both of my highschools are now being torn apart and renovated.

the swingset that i kissed my first girlfriend on, gone.

and the christmas tree forest where i used to bury all of my old sneakers, so gone that i couldnt even find one remaining evergreen.

thats all too much for this sensitive poet. especially when you mix it with lots of things that are identical. like the sad little dunkin donuts, or the roller rink i used to practically live in, or the garbage dump that has grown so big that they want to turn it into a ski resort.

change is a bitch, as is time, as are old memories that dont mesh with the present.

all in all i think illinois is better off for the changes that they have made, and the kids who are growing up here have a far more diverse group of kids to play with, and bigger and better neighborhoods with more and more things to do. so i suppose that the progress that has happened here is for the best.

still, i hope that in heaven the good Lord will take requests during orientation week, and if he does i will ask him if i can step into the time machine for just a few hours so i can be a teenager again, with my first girlfriend, and take her back, one more time to the swingset thats there no more.

cubs won today.

amourous times + the newest blog of note! ultrablognetic + sahalie
dear raymi in the mix,

im in chicago!

i know, what am i doing here. exactly. im getting home cookin thats what im doing. my sister totally busted with the steaks last night and my mom whipped up the eggs, bacons, grits, toasts, oj, everything.

i went to bed early and i woke up late. i woke up early and i thought i was back in cali but i wasnt, it was a weird deal.

raymi, i dont think ive been out of cali since i went to vegas with my true love 5-6 months ago and before that i cant even remember when.

in one way its nice to leave hollywood but in another way i miss it already. im very loyal, and i think that makes me satisfied even when im not supposed to be satisfied.

the weather. all you ever ask about is the weather, canadian girl, so i will tell you, its perfect. my mom and i drove around to my old high school and around the old neighborhoods and everything looked green and all the trees looked bigger and where we used to live seemed a little run down in some parts but a little better in others. growing up there now will produce much different tony pierces and im not sure if thats a bad thing or not.

this very nice guy just asked me on the chat why i hardly ever come back to my hometown and i told him that its like reading your favorite book but some asshole keeps ripping out pages and changing the best parts.

so today me and my mom are going to drive downtown, which is what you do when you live in the suburbs, and we're going to take pictures of the new Soldier Field and Wrigley and maybe get a slice of Ginos pizza and say hi to all the nice people of the city.

i wish you were here raymi because my mom needs a few gray hairs.

my little neice is adorable.

only thing missing in this little trip is camera software that would allow me to upload my pics and share them with all of you, but maybe in the year 2004 you will be able to just plug your camera into the USB port and get it on.

sadly in 2003, your camera, and the cord, and the internet isnt enough.

anyhow, girlfriend, i hope youre doing well. my sister pay-per-viewed Bowling For Columbine last night and the whole family watched it and man that was some good stuff.

why do people bash michael moore more than bush? liberals even? i dont get it. whatever dumbshit things he has said, he says way more smartshit things, if you ask me, and as for movie making, the dude is gifted.

as fuck.

my mom Never, raymi listen to me Never can make it through a movie all the way if it starts after 7pm and she has a full meal in her belly. and not only did she make it but she watched the bonus interview with whatshisface on pbs afterwards, and we had a nice lil discussion too.

that is the sign of a compelling film.

and he tied it, somehow, to Flint. and to him.

im still blown away.

and i miss you.

hugs and kisses,


raymi the canadian + machine4832 + lauren