the blook II presale



just dropped

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my first answering machine audio post
powered by audblog

so my man noah emailed me yesterday to tell me that my first audblog post had reached #40 on popdex.

today it's still climbing at #36.

is there really nothing more interesting on the web?

this is my first answering machine message audio post.

not only do you get to hear kristin from madpony, allison from meltingdolls, but you get os calling long distance from france and not one, not two, but three messages from karisa.

and of course, it all starts with ashley

1. ashley "answer your phone"

2. karisa and kerrie driving to hardwick "we got a fucking suite for the wedding tomorrow."

3. kristin, "i was calling to say hi and i have a question..."

4. os "i'm calling from paris to say go cubs."

5. liz and karisa at 3am "call us back, we love you..."

6. karisa and liz at 4:30am "we're just bored and calling you..."

7. allison "bye."

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man was i busy today. im not really sure if ive worked that hard since, hell, its been a while, maybe back at the dot com when i was hiring 30 to 50 people a week.

its friday night. its eleven pm. the hot girl from last night is doing a shoot at the roosevelt hotel in hollywood and after she says shes coming straight over to finish what was started last n' and i dont really talk sex talk in here but what the hell.

last night she said that she was wantin it but was a little sore in the hey nanu nanu. so i was totally cool with just falling asleep holding her. but this is a reason i date girls, as i was falling asleep she took my hands and was basically all, dude.

one thing led to another and shes whispering for me to take off her bra.

just so happens thats one of my favorite little hobbies.

had to do this one left handed , eyes closed, while kissing and this girl has something to put in that bra, lemme tell you.

maybe we should have a sexy story every friday night.

and the thing with curvy girls and their brassierres is that can add a tad more stress to the bra strap snapdeal, making the inital pinch at the buckle a smidge more difficult, which can mean the difference between a holy-shit quickie release of the bra and a oh-man what a struggle tug tug tug slow clumsy manuever.

outkast was on the boom box.

eventually got that bra off and she snickered at me for she knew how proud i'd smile after a lightspeed removal of the unmentionable

and i shared her snicker and she rolled onto her belly

and i was all

and then i put on a condom just like i do everytime while promising promises of a confident man calling his shot

which i highly recommend

cuz its hot

and its nice to see if the chick doubledares you or promises something back or checks you out while you put that thing on

and last nights girl did all the above

which is why she got invited to be tonights girl

and now ive got the drive by truckers on

and now im thinking about all the craziness that went down today

im thinking about how could it have all happened squooshed like that into one little day.

i think three girls told me they loved me, and one guy said he wanted to have my baby.

as many hits as drudge gets, how many times you think a guy tells drudge something like that?

actually, nevermind.

had kung pao scallops for lunch, delivered.

thought about getting a used car

got to read

on the bus

in peace.

aj made two excellent things this week.

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today's guest blogger
from country punk corvids fame
is no one other than mr. ken layne

It seems that the critics
all agreed:
'This is bullshit'

But one typey-typer
grinned and snickered,
'Or is it?'

He would type-type the most
type-typed ravey of rants
and Mike Myers would pull
down the type-typer's pants!

'A blowjob, a rimjob,
a dinky-donk-plo job,
you'll get what you
truly deserve!'

And every movie page ad
in the Snap City Tribune
and the Goblin Heights Post
and the Bough Bubble News-Goon
and the St. Trickly Times
and the Goobertown Gazette
and even the Roggo Flats Daily Tourette!

Will all put the type-typey's
rave up on the top
with his name big & proud
his words bold & loud!

and the name of his paper
right underneath that ...

a paper so odd they called
it the Strib
like a lake-muckian critter
with the face of a squid

And the parents perhaps
not so smart-smart to know
so they say,
'hey petunia, let's go see a show!'

So they wrapped up the
little ones in wide winters wraps
and the diapers & dribble cups
went straight in the night sack

And off to the mulgi-plex
where they waited in the line
with the Beasleys & Weasleys &
Flat Footed Small Frys

And finally oh finally when
the door monkey yelped
they ran and they ran and the
fatter folks fell
and the small ones their faces
were so bright they lit
but five minutes later the
sad truth had hit
they were stuck at the movies
with a huge piece of shit!

ken layne + do youself a flavor and get the new corvids cd

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caption this, please

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couple things wrong with this picture. besides the obvious.

first being that it was shown on my television within minutes of being taken.

like it's a trophy.

like "we finally got em"

like you did something hard or something.

i'll tell you when you can feel proud, if thats what youre trying to feel.

feel proud when youre able to prove he fondled that young boy.

cant dust his lil'n

far as i know you dont have any video or eye witnesses.

all youre going to end up with is his word against his word

no proof

no evidence

unlike molestation of a female, what on earth could you retrieve from a scientific examination of a young boy weeks after the alleged assault?

and if one or two or a thousand kids come forward and say that that pretty young chinese woman in the picture did to them, it isnt evidence that he touched that kid that night at the neverland ranch.

pardon me from distancing myself from the hysterical, but nobody should be sent to jail for something as unforgivable as sexual abuse of a child solely on an accusation.

smile when you have some evidence, gentlemen, and give a man time to take his escalade to his jet before you lift high the mugshot to the slobbering press as if it was the ear of the most mighty bull.

what is the rush?

michael jackson didnt do anything to you.

and as unbelievable as you might think that it could be, but he might not have done anything to anyone else either.

you show your cards when you sneer at a press conference

you out yourself when you make sure that the press can get a picture of the handcuffed king of pop

and if you believe in karma, you fuck yourself when you break land speed records to release what is probably the most embarrassing and unflattering photograph anyone could ever wind up taken.

humiliation does not become you.

innocent until proven guilty might just be the core of what makes america the greatest country in the world which would make you rotten to the core if you deny a man that right.

freaky as the fucker may be.

my most favorite county is in the public eye

dont make me go up there and remind you what santa barabara is supposed to be

which is class.

espns pardon the interruption was on fire today.

as was my girl flagrant, which if nick denton is serious, should hire as his travel blogger.

me, i'm holding out for the fleshbot blogger auditons

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some days i want to smack your face, but then there are days like these, when you're waiting on the bus, filming trees, when i say oh shucks this guy really IS tuned in to something bigger than the projection of his ego. i like you on street corners...

earl grey

Anonymouse

yeah, i get fucked up comments sometimes too. people have no sense. people dont know how to say things in a nice and polite way.

i wonder why they have to be that way and then i think its maybe cuz theyre bummed out that i bash their political party, or their favorite talk show host, or their favorite blogger named drudge.

or maybe they just weren't raised right.

for example, how is smacking me going to do anything but get you ten smacks back? how is it going to teach me a lesson about my alleged ego?

i hate anonymous comment-leavers cuz theyre gutless, and gutless people shouldnt be listened to because theyre probably lying.

people who are telling the truth, ESPECIALLY in a blog, or in the comments of the blog, have nothing to fear.

liars need to worry.

and people who think that they can run around and smack people seriously need to worry.

let me tell you a few things about my ego, busbloggers. i have none.

i have zero self-esteem.

dont take that the wrong way, its not a woe-is-me zero self esteem, its a "im not good enough to make it to the next level, but i can kick your ass" thing.

it's twisted.

one reason i like blogger so much is because i get to use it to write better, to practice.

i think i would be a great arts and entertainment section editor. i was a great editor. i love bringing people together and thinking up story ideas and touching up stories and managing the process.

as a writer i think im a not-boring blogger, but i think im way too punkrock for the mass media, and thats fine with me. it would be great if somewhere in journalism there might be a little sliver that i could fit into, but if not then cool.

but i have no ego. i think im ok.

i am shocked when people say otherwise and im supershocked when i see all the hits that i get.

ive said this before.

i'll probably say it again.

meanwhile, if any of you have anything to say, use your name, link your email or web page, and if you feel like smacking me while im waiting for a bus, if i was you, id think twice, cuz i might be xbi after all.

raymi + xeni + blamb

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sometimes people ask if they can guest-write a post on the busblog.

usually i say no. for kitty bukkake i say yes. always

Hi Tony, thanks for having me over.

I bought gray-blue corduroys and picked up takeout special from Hard Times Pizza, and here, in the new pants, I'm trying to eat dinner at my desk in my emptyish apartment, alone, with a cold.

I don't even want pizza, but I couldn't stomach lunch. Don't feel like running either. Hard Times.

A crap year for my family, 2003.

So much, my superstitious mother won't say goodbye at the end of a phone conversation. Only buona sera. She has been calling every night to see whether I've recovered yet, from this and that. Tonight I picked up as I came through the door, having just driven home through Griffith Park while the DWP was testing the light festival. I sobbed the distance.

Sorry but I did.

She asked what was wrong. "Same as yesterday Ma, but with holiday anxiety." I have presents I can't give. Things could be good but they aren't.

I have an art career I would envy if it weren't my own, but I still can't get out of bed until twenty minutes before I have to be at my job. When I am sad I can either eat or sleep but not both. This time I sleep.

I wish I could talk to my Dad too, for some unconditional love, male perspective. There's a fantasy. He'll be 60 next week. I will call him. I will hold my breath for the duration. If I could just call Garrison Keillor, or Harrison Ford instead. Or Dr. Phil or Ellen. I don't know.

Here's a reality show: Suicide Island. Seven contestants, each on an island, alone.

Last one to kill himself dies.

Rusty told me I would not have survived the year if it had come four years ago. There's my Thanksgiving toast. No, I'll say I found a ten-dollar bill on the street last week, because that's also true. And my life got bigger this year. I am grateful for that and the ten bucks.

I just went to Amoeba and spent more money, I had to get out of the house, in my pants, it's not retail therapy, I haven't done that in years. Got some Peaches, got some Wilco, some Elliott Smith, Kings of Convenience, Paula Kelley, got X's Los Angeles reissued with bonus tracks.

Have I told you I have the greatest friends? Nope, still Kitty. Tony has them too. Mine are on grief detail. They are better than Dr. Phil.

"You can't make a dog behave like a chicken no matter how much corn you feed it." Right? We are what we are and that's all. But I like dogs and chickens.

And corn.

Corny corn, like silver linings and hope and the magic of affection and endurance.

Love just don't quit, so hard to see from where we sit.

Buona sera,

Kitty.

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dear God, dear america, dear raymi, dear world, dear mom, dear paul westerberg, dear angus young, dear safe sex, dear giselle, dear flagrant, dear chick on the bus who offered me a puff of weed, dear inventors of wifi, dear glamour girl who's going to come over here and fuck my brains out,

please help me.

everything is so fubar right now that i dont even know which way is up.

how is it that michael jackson is wanted as of press time, and rush limbaugh who is accused of being a primary player in a huge drug ring and who today is being accused of money-laundering isnt wanted?

how is it that larry king gets to be on tv every night and today had dr. phil of all people parade out all the ghouls of television-past including a droopy-chested liza minelli for his 70th birthday, and yet nobody is interested in getting twin peaks back on the air.

im tired.

im tired of this grind and anti feels it too and karisa feels it and i could seriously use a new weezer album.

they dont have to tour if they dont wanna.

just an ep if thats all you got.

its eleven pm and im out.

if the girl calls me again at two a.m. im going to have to refuse those long legs.

thats how tired i am of all of this.

fuck the o.c.

fuck the d.a.

fuck the e.i.b.

im reading the kurt kobain book that my bro ken is loaning me and you know what

some nights like this i really wish i was

alive.

anti + jaime + the cosby sweater

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dear michael jackson,

i hate to say it, but i think youre fucked.

i saw the press conference today of the santa barbara sheriffs, and the 60 deputies that they sent to your home in riot gear to storm your gates. i saw their smiles as they explained how the law has changed since 10 years ago, the last time you were accused of abusing a kid.

i made a note when they explained why they didnt come after you on halloween instead of when they did, yesterday, the day your latest greatest hits cd came out. they said they were busy ruining the halloweens of "50,000" partiers in Isla Vista.

apparently drunkards from uc san diego are more dangerous to santa barbara county than a reclusive alleged child molester if you read between the lines of the sb sheriff.

this accusation, soon-to-be arrest, and hoo-ha has gotten everyone who i work with to instantly deem you guilty.

just cuz youre freaky lookin

just cuz you were accused before

and just cuz you live a somewhat bizzare life.

obviously you have issues. but we all do. i blog like an addict. im obsessed with the fine music of rock group tsar. i ride a bus. but that doesnt mean that im a smooth criminal, no matter how many times i might be accused in the future.

just cuz youre a nut, doesnt make you a sicko, jacko.

so i will reserve judgement until the trial is completed.

and i will shake my head at officers of the law who smile over and over during press conferences about alleged child molestation.

call me crazy, but i think it is still entirely possible that multi-millionaires could be targets to fraudulent claims, and if i was a bad guy, and i wanted to ruin you and/or get money from you, the easiest way i could imagine is to bring up the kid stuff.

it does suck that you built this ranch that kids of all ages would love to visit. and it totally sucks that you love kids and everyone freaks out when youre near them. and it super totally sucks that any time theres a young boy near you everyone starts whispering.

and as a free man, innocent of any charges, you should be allowed to hang out with whoever you want to, especially if their parents said it was cool.

but as we say over and over on the busblog, life isnt fair. its not fair that you dance so good, or sing so well. its not fair that you sold all those gazillions of records. its not fair that you were thrust into the public eye at such a young age and it wrecked your childhood. it isnt fair that your dad whipped you and did who knows what to you.

its not fair that you got to date brooke shields and tatum o'neal and lisa marie presley.

its not fair that you should probably ixnay on having the kids overay, mj.

but it is probably a good idea.

for some people handling success is harder than getting it. for some people handling their private lives is tougher than handling their public one.

i wish you had been given better advice in relation to who your houseguests were.

and i really hope that what those smiling cops are saying isnt true.

cuz i think you rule.

love,

tony

michael jackson number ones + madpony + betsy

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today is marc brown's 61st birthday. inventor of the internet, world ski jump champion, and the man who gave nirvana a chance and thus broke them on college radio.

born on a dinghy off the seattle sound, marc was swallowed by a whale and expelled off the sandy beaches of santa barbara where he befriended a volleyball and named him grungy

he lived on campus point beach for several years until the isla vista foot patrol discovered that he didnt have a permit for his bonfire, and after failing to pay his citation, arrested him and the judge sent him to ucsb for four years of hard time.

with good behavior he did five.

while in college he was the music director of the radio station. this was the magical time of the late 80s when hip hop, rock, metal, punk, and pop melded and bore a new music "grunge" a term mc brown bestowed on the joyful noise that was best represented from his hometown label, sub pop, in honor of his volleyball friend.

his popularity spread througout the campus and in 1990 he ran for associated student president, with help from his pals at the daily nexus, where he had become a media darling, occasionally writing music columns and opinion pieces, he won in a landslide. but always the pranksters, the nexus reported that he had only garnered 69 votes, a curious number but symbolic since it was the number on the LA Raiders football jersey that he was often caught ripping off his svelt frame and twirling above his head while dancing atop a picnic table at the local pizzeria, pizza marc's, which many believed he owned.

and then he adopted a rap persona, mc brown and released the cult classic "mc brown goes to college" which was followed up with the smash hit "mc brown goes to night school". the green 7" singles were huge along the central coast, and peru.

since then marc has traveled the world, dated models, rock stars, and homeless women. he has started his own web design company with such clients as paramount pictures, rupaul, and most recently triumph the insult comic dog. who says affirmitive action doesnt work?

his macarthur park loft is so badass that hipster mag Dwell featured the inside of his pad and if you look closely in the first portion of Kill Bill you will see his garage as pretending to be the hospital garage where Uma finds the Pussy Machine.

founder, president, and inventor of Buzznet, the latest in blog technology that allows people to share pictures that theyve either taken from their digital cams or phone cams, marc continues to influence and feed off the ever-changing world of the internet like it aint no thing.

we are lucky to have marc brown in our collective lives.

which is why, when Thor Garcia finished his first book of short stories, he dedicated it to today's birthday boy.

and why when you read this website and blog, you will see homages and praise doled out freely and lustingly in his general direction.

please join me in celebrating in mc browns birthday by either visiting his frequently updated blog, creating a buzznet account, pouring a gold bottle of boones farm on the ground like you just dont care.

wwmbd + marc at an art opening + the mc is a great photographer

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my first audio post


powered by audblog

so my man noah wrote me and asked me why i dont use Audblog. and hes a very nice guy who has been reading the busblog for a while. and lo and behold he has something to do with Audblog.

so today i gave it a shot and let me tell you about my experience.

it was super easy.

it took me maybe 5 minutes total to sign up, make my post, and get it up there.

the first post is free and you can get 12 more posts a month for $3 a month.

people spend more than that on dumbass ring tones for their cell phones.

at this point im not exactly sure why i would use this feature on the busblog, but im brainstorming and maybe you, the sage readers, can help me.

so far im thinking that if i meet a famous person and i have my mobile phone i can dial the number and have them say hi to all of you.

im also thinking that maybe if karisa or anna or miss montreal wants to say a few words for the kids then i could hook that shit up.

and then of course i could take my phone to a tsar show and let you all hear a few minutes of what heaven sounds like.

and then, obviously, i could put my phone in someones bed room when they least expect it...

or outside my window when my neighbors are fighting.

or on the bus when theres a bus-evangelist.

or at the laker game when theyre introducing number 8, at small guard, kooooooobeeeeeee bryyyyyyant.

or at a hootenanny when someones playing Good Deal of Love.

or something

if only i could forward my answering messages to this i would be totally stoked, cuz i get some funny ones.

noah glass + riley dog + tom dog

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yes the busses are back. walked to my subway station, took the elevator down, stood and waited and was shocked at how few people were down there with me.

didnt see the creepy guy who sometimes has a morning beer wrapped in a little brown paper bag, didnt see any of the armenian men who frown at me with their unibrows, didnt see any kids running late for school, didnt see any guys dressed up in their security man uniforms.

shit, barely saw anyone.

got onboard. it was free today. supposed to be free all week. but there wasnt any signage. you'd think that would be something that they would put on their little message board. WELCOME BACK: FREE RIDES ALL WEEK. but no.

pretty empty in the subway to wilshire + vermont. charlie brown's teacher got on the PA and said something about wilshire + western trains. not sure what she said. so i used the escalator and got to wilshire + vermont to catch a bus.

hardly anyone was walking around. looked like a sunday.

the message screen below the Rapid sign said next bus in 10 minutes. it hardly ever says anything longer than 2 minutes. but apparently some of the bus drivers didnt have enough days off.

10 minutes later two Rapid busses showed up at the same time. they both opened up both of their doors and people crammed in. about 8 of us watched the madness and didnt get on. we waited.

the sign said the next bus was coming in 3 minutes. meanwhile no local busses arrived.

its nice in LA today. sunny. warm. a tad crisp but not really. i didnt mind waiting. i hadnt waited for a bus in a month. its good to wait.

as the sun warmed my blogger hoodie i saw a guy who held his hand up in a semi-ball. i thought that i was a creep for bitching about anything in life when i could easily be a guy with a deformity like that.

i took a picture of a tree. my life isnt so bad.

got on the bus. it was nearly empty. went to the back like i did in high school. sat by the window. at the next stop it filled up and a woman with an eye patch sat next to me.

all was well again.

photo by mc brown who also posted a nice gallery of tsar pix from last night and charlies bach party

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didnt sleep so well last night. started first on the couch, which is pretty normal. then woke up at 4am and went to the bed. i have a freaky life. i dont get it.

on one hand there are people who dont even know me who love me. thats nice freaky. then i have people who know me pretty well who dont like me at all, who want me to be sad. thats creepy freaky. then i have people who know me super super well who love me and will love me forever.

so guess who i think about at 4:20am, the girls who send me pictures who dont know me? the friends ive had forever? the people im dying to meet?

no, i think about the haters.

i think about bush and rush and drudge and incubus.

whats wrong with me.

i see that at 6am im still awake and i think about how much writing i could be doing. something i love.

but i dont do that either, i sit in my bed, electric blanket off to motivate me to get up, and i listen to howard stern and guess who he's thinking about.

rush.

we're all crazy.

tim blair at this wedding last month came up to me and said that i will be a millionaire in a few years and the crazy thing is i agreed with him. but the crazier thing is i dont care about no million dollars. i care about proving the haters wrong at my low paying job. i care about rock radio playing tsar even though theyre way too good for rock radio.

i care about being liked. even to people who i confront. even to people i dont confront. even to people who no way would ever like me. even to people who have every reason to love me but harden their own heart.

i care about writing well. i care about writing books. and instead of just turning off the tv and the stereo and the phone and writing novels, i go out to fatburger with hotties and get sad when they leave, and then aol chat with strangers and dont write on the blog and dont update the website and dont write the sex novel and dont read and dont study and dont talk to writers about writing.

i lay there and age.

ungracefully.

today im going to take the subway to the subway to the bus to the bus and it will all be free because they want to say thank you for your patronage during the strike.

i live in los angeles where one is defined by their vehicle.

i ride the bus.

then i blog about it.

and then i stay up at night and wonder why people dont get me.

appalachia alumni assc. + right over there + britcoal + but is it art

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forget your mom, what do you do when your work finds out about your blog?

you do what you should do all the time, saints,

be polite.

hi work.

lots of ways you can find out if your work is on your web site.

easiest way, of course, are IP addresses.

they'll tell you when, who, and for how long.

i dont care if my work reads my blog, i just wish they would believe that nothing in here is true. but no one does.

other than that i have no problem with my job, despite what lies i might write on here.

half way through my little talking-to by some of my superiors this morning, i was about to tell them the truth, i was about to say, dude, if i didnt complain about something, people would think im living this fucking perfect life and they woudnt be able to relate to me, so i lie about having a crappy job that doesnt appreciate me.

it's storytelling.

but then they started saying some odd things.

so i didnt say anything.

i kept pretending that i didnt like my job.

which has been so good to me.

you should see my desk, my huge window, my huge computer monitor, bagels on thursdays.

they send all these pretty girls by just to be nice to me.

even the dudes come by and say nice things.

they got the IT department to cruise through from time to time and hook me up, and the facilities department keeps the place perfectly temperaturized

even the janitors address me by name

and you should see the guy who wears the vest outside the garage

he always says good bye to me.

i got friends in the media center, in research, in rights & clearances, legal, sales

lord knows the eReps got my back.

and i got theirs.

what makes me so curious though is, when the cubs were in the playoffs i got a little distracted, and im not as smart as you might think, so i have to concentrate super hard.

so when the cubs were in the playoffs, i made a few mistakes and got in trouble.

cuz at the xbi you cant really make any mistakes.

especially if your me.

cuz you know why

cuz nobody wants me at the xbi

you dont either.

any time i write anything about it, you all pretty much say, fuck the xbi.

and sometimes i want to say it too, and today i felt like george bush and iraq

i wanted to give up and go home, but it would have been for the wrong reason

and id be driven out by the wrong people.

over the last few years, any anxiety that i would ever have about romantic relationships have disappeared. they have all been wonderful, loving, perfect.

sure there have been some ups and downs. but mostly ups and hardly ever anything devastating.

but during that same amount of time i have struggled, friends, with my relationship with my employers and it troubles me worse than anything ive ever experienced with a woman.

unlike my love affairs, at work i give everything.

and i definitely work harder at the xbi and at my last job, than i do on this blog or my site.

and both places, just when you thought someone was going to say, you know what man, nice work. and great job doing it under pressure. just when you thought that was coming, something very odd was said.

like youre fired.

they didnt say that today but they also didnt say hey nice work under pressure as the shit was going down as you learned new dance moves for foreign songs.

the receptionists took me outside for an american spirit though.

nice girls.

but you know i dont smoke.

and that nothing in here is true.

i couldnt imagine a better job for me. im in the middle of everything. im busy constantly. im loved, and very well taken care of.

i come in early, and i leave late. i tell jokes, and smile, and work hard at hard work.

theyve done everything that they can do to get me out of chopper one and writing for the company newsletter, but i dont want to. no matter how dangerous fighting the crime that i fight is, and no matter how thankless it can be, it's the job that ive been given, and im not going to leave it until i leave a total champ.

before the xbi there was no busblog.

and dont forget it.

alecia made a new photo essay + ben's daily + bastard family

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did you know that tsar is playing tonight? at the silverlake lounge? right there on sunset? for free?

im not sure if i will be able to make it since i apparently have a Blook to put out, for your asses.

thank you for the nice feedback and emails and phone calls.

my advisor called me and said, are you kidding? there has to be a Blook II! what would william carlos williams do?

and, as always, she was right. thats why i always listen to her.

Breaking Busblog News

the MTA strike is now over!

according to NBC LA channel 4, some of the busses will return tonight, and the subways and the rest of the busses will return to service in the morning.

to my buddy Ben, and to my pal Liana and everyone who has picked me up hitchhiking, I thank you.

so much.

and MTA if you ever strike again, I will let the air out of your tires.

and i will put graffiti on your seat cushions.

meanwhile Britney finally got her much deserved hollywood walk of fame star.

our petitions have paid off america!

mine said, Dont Let Britney Live to be 22 without a Tsar.

i meant Star but you know about my typing problems.

in other news our new governor got sworn in.

and in other news i got 900 pieces of spam into my inbox while i slept last night.

p.s. i still hate my job.

pps. this just in from the florida orange grower girl who went to see britney get her star

modelbabe: I am sore today
modelbabe: by the way!
modelbabe: a black guy tried to pick up on me when I was watching Britney
modelbabe: he asked me if I was J Lo's sister
modelbabe: I just kept looking away
modelbabe: then he said, "what? you got a problem with brothers?
modelbabe: and I said, "no, I didn't have problem with one last night"
dumbme: nice!
modelbabe: and he said....awwww, so thats how it is, the another brother got to you first
modelbabe: he also asked me if I was mixed with black
modelbabe: I said, only at night

then she took a few more pics of britney getting her star

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i have a question for you all. are you at all interested in Blook II: for your ass?

maybe im going through all this hassle for nothing. it is a hassle. i really hate reading my old stuff.

and it will be a hassle at the printer, cuz he doesnt like me coming in with word documents on a cd.

and it will be a hassle cuz i will have to have someone come over and help me pick up the crates of books.

and then i will have to go to the mail box every day and ship them all out.

so my question is, do you people want a Blook 2?

im particularly interested in hearing from the people who got Blook last year. do you want another one?

you can be honest.

and the price will be about the same: $20 which includes shipping.

do you really want to pay for something that youve been getting free all year?

is this something that if i can get printed before thanksgiving, that you would buy as gifts for your family and friends?

and finally is there intrest in a second printing of the original Blook?

personally i couldnt care one way or the other. i have no internal desire to have Blook 2 sitting on my bookshelf next to Blook. i know i made those things. i cant say i picked up the first Blook more than twice this year. and when i did, i actually did like what i read, but i winced at a few things i wrote.

i enjoy creating a lot more than reminiscing.

so please, feel free to use the comments to express your deepest truths about this matter.

thanks in advance,

tony

gnome-girl + oliver + negro please

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dont ever listen if i ever bitch. about anything.

didnt find out till this morning what this super hot chick did for a living. turns out she works for the florida orange growers. she was sent out here for two purposes: (1) to model at their annual convention which this year is oddly in california, (2) to convert me from an apple juice drinker to an orange juice drinker.

unbeknownst to her, and her handlers, the florida orange growers convention isnt going to be here till next weekend. so this weekend all she did was laze around my place in a variety of lingerie, eating cinnasticks from dominoes, flipping through my tivo, and making sweet lust to me during my work breaks.

i was working on Blook Two

for your ass.

we did it so much that this morning i woke up early and said, baby i dont think i can give it to you today, i hope you dont mind. and she said, i dont mind. and we listened to morning radio and laid there and i felt her up and she moaned a tiny bit. but not much. she pushed her ass up against me. pefect florida orange grower model ass. no panties. ever.

she asked me to grab her tighter if i was gonna grab her.

i was beat though.

last night we watched Mystery Train off tivo. she'd never seen any jarmusch and since we did it to tom waits sunday morning i figured we would continue the theme with a movie where we hear my gravely voiced hero but didnt see him.

i fell asleep in her arms like i normally do when i watch movies with hot chicks.

i didnt write much on my site, and i didnt edit much of Blook even though she was a very good guest and didnt ask much of me and slept as she fought against her jet lag.

i tried to get motivated by drinking rum right out of the bottle and smoking from a long hunter s thompson cigarette holder, but nothing worked. i should have just laid on that couch in that sweet girls arms and found out every little thing about her.

i told her that i would drink more orange juice, i went to the market and got some frozen pulp free cans, but im drinking nantucket nectars pressed apple right now.

some habits are hard to break.

she told me that the florida orange growers saw that most of my hits come around breakfast time (9a - noon, pacific) and that if i talked about how much i like orange juice that maybe that would influence people into drinking more orange juice.

i told her she was nuts. i told her that my readers were smarter than that. that if they wanted to drink coffee in the morn, or tea, that nothing that i did would sway them.

she says its not about that. its about perception. its about the 18-34 demographic.

i told her that if she got a web page and started drinking oj in her bikini

she interrupted me and said, we dont say oj

i was all, thats fucked up.

she said, what? hes a murderer.

i was like, bitch, the glove didnt fit.

she was all, lets not fight.

i was all, fuhrman said the n word.

she was all, comeon, the blood trail, the dna, the cuts on his hands, the abuse, the 911 call.

i was all, he was banging a playboy playmate, he wouldnt murder a woman who he had been doing since she was 18 because at thirty something she wanted to hump a waiter.

then she said, tony, lets not fight.

then she made me a mimosa.

no pulp.

and we kissed.

bunnie + flagrant + virginia's first photo essay!

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my hands are dry. im thirsty.

if i keep smoking im going to get a head ache. i wasnt made to make a novel. i can barely write a blook.

hot chick is laying on my couch watching the raiders vikings game. weve already done it a half dozen times. got to. if youre given lemons you make lemonade, etc. she got done napping after the last one.

then madpony called. then anna called. then miss montreal called.

my hands are dry because when people call me i do the dishes and im not sure if these are dishpan hands or fingerbang hands or old mans hands or hand me down hands.

some say i dont drink enough water.

i look through these blook entries one by one and i keep wondering why a thousand people a day come here. maybe they come and then realize theyve been tricked and scram.

im sorry you got scammed, people.

however the cam girl requests have increased and they say its cuz of the writing and cuz im cute and put both of those lies together and maybe you have sort of an upside down truth.

and you know who i thank, i thank drudge and rush and all the other phonies and losers and bad people and bad writers because compared to them im not so bad.

im trying to put together this blook, but it's hard. i dont like to read my old stuff.

it just might end up being a short story.

a tiny one.

me and the glamour girl just looked through a bunch of the little tiny movies that ive made with my cam.

i might have to put together a page of that stuff sometime soon.

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i know looks shouldnt matter, but theres a super hot chick coming over tonight. i mean hot.

she sorta has a bad attitude but its sexy on her. sometimes i just look at her and try to figure it out.

is it cuz her skin is clear, or symmetrical, or typical.

its hard to say. especially since i usually like the little flaws. a lot.

this girl doesnt have any flaws.

came over the other day after work and these legs... and i think arent i supposed to care about her mind and her personality but im mesmerized by how her skirt falls.

how everything, anything looks good on her.

she might be a hologram.

have i told you i started dreaming the other day.

three nights in a row now.

she likes it when my apartment is messy, and my beard is growing in, and when the bed isnt made.

i got tom waits's alice and blood money and put it in the winamp.

i dont think she'll like it.

we have this little game where we pretend that we dont like each other, or that we will do anything special for each other.

so i showered shaved cleaned up burned some incense brushed my teeth.

its one am and im done now.

she says she doesnt like to think that someone did anything special for her cuz then she'll feel like she owes them something.

i told her all she owes is a forty and i hope she doesnt forget it

and i hope she gets here

before i fall asleep.

speaking of falling asleep, tonights saturday night live may have been the worst ive ever seen.

other than missy elliot.

one thirty, is this girl gonna be here?

bears football early in the morning

and shit.

coyote + jack + brian

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