and even though it’s so trendy to be a lakers fan during the finals and even though i shouldnt feel weird rooting for them since ive lived here since 84, i do root for them and now i must adjust this second half by doing something different, namely write to you.
my mom is very superstituous when she “watches” the teams of her choosing, she brings them good luck by not watching, which is sorta a bummer for her since she has lived in chicago for most of her life and missed a good portion of michael jordan’s career with the bulls. but look at all that luck she gave him!
fortunately my brother in law tapes many of the games and watches them in awe with her and my sister years after the fact.
me, i like watching the games as they are happening, but if i see that something is going contrary to how i’d like them to be, i’ll do something like quit sitting on the couch and move to a different chair, or switch from beer to rum, or flip on the computer and write you.
what did you do last night?
rene came over and we pay-per-viewed “mullholland drive” which i was doing fine with for the first two hours but then i started nodding off then i got confused and really nodded off. whoever the chick was who played that main blonde girl was a pretty awesome actress.
and david lynch is a master.
that movie made me want to rent all of the twin peaks and play drinking games where you’d have to take a drink whenever something fucking crazy happens.
ok, im gonna go back to the game, this little experiment seems to have worked. the lakers have cut their deficit down to 8.
a dog doing a pikachu,
an enlightening link to a story about how the feds are trying to disprove the effectiveness of pot on HIV patients by growing shit weed,
a link to a page describing the finest athletic achievement of all time: doc ellis throwing a no hitter on acid,
and a link leading to apparent proof that j.lo doesnt wear enough underwear—
mobius writes in the comments of the entry where we threw out the notion that the only good women writers were crazy, that Stanford this week released what might be a link between creative genius and mental illness, which might explain a lot.
he also gives us a link to a bbc article saying that the inventor of jazz was a schitzo, and therefore the most creative music of all, jazz, was created by madness.
the j.lo upskirt pictures are being displayed by a guy who added a poll next to the photos, sort of like what i did with the penthouse anna kournikova pictures, he even has a guestbook, which i think is a pretty usefull addition, and if i ever find myself in the situation of such popular material that the rest of the web seems uninterested in displaying, but very interested in looking at and discussing, then i will add a guestbook to that page as well.
the fat guy left a comment to yesterdays post that i feel compelled to reply to but i cant in full detail due to the fact that in all truth i am the luckiest person in the world and im about to be swept away by a sexy lass who was recently kissed in a bar in santa monica by a man who, reportedly, could put antonio banderas to shame, witnesses say, check that, the chick was the one who planted the wet one on colgne-wearing european visitor with long hair and manly arms. lets hope the aggressiveness continues throughout the weekend.
theres a lot of magic still twinkling in tinsel town, scott, have no fear and in six to eight months i will write them down in here and pretend like they just happened. hows that for compromise?
the other week about how much booty i get, but the catch22 of being a single man is if you kiss n tell, nobody’s gonna wanna kiss you any more.
except for the exhibitionists.
i do pretty well among that crowd and fortunately for me i live in hollywood where theres more cameras per capita than convertibles.
this superhot babe from the video king finally accepted my invitation to accompn’y me to the white trash bar in burbank where they serve pabst, play skynyrd, and feature homemade tv dinners served in the aluminum trays that we all love.
the parking lot action was nice. i hadnt steamed up backseat windows in quite a while and the whole time she kept telling me that “this” doesnt mean that i’ll get any. i kept telling her that what i was getting was plenty.
of course we ended up at my place.
eventually it was she, not i, who lost at chicken but there are no losers in these games just withered will power.
but seriously, those who are interested, im hardly getting any play. most of the things in here are my wildest dreams and even in la la land dreams rarely come true, and if they did why would they to a black man who doesnt look black in a town full of surfers, rockers, and multimillionaires. not only is my hair receeding at a ridiculous rate, but instead of a cell phone and a corvette, i carry a backpack and a bus pass.
aint no way the ladies would fall for that no matter what you choose to believe as you read the internet.
maybe one day my luck will change.
in the meantime i’ll just continue to write these lies and attempt to make your visits here worthwhile.
to finish the story, the hot chick took care of herself on the couch and instructed me to do the same while i sat compelled on my chair in the computer closet and obeyed, listening to her list off one filthy promise after another while opening and closing her eyes uncontrolably.
im always amazed at how some women could consider themselves slutty if they had sex on the first date, but somehow bringing themselves to completion on a stranger’s couch while he watches is kosher.
and as much as i love my television, it’s never shown me that before.
but it did show me a helluva playoff game this afternoon in boston.
and once again, im glad that i ignored my astrology that advised that i go outside to find enlightenment, when everything i ever needed today was either on the tv or five feet away from it.
except for you, miss usa. where were you today? competing in a goofy white bikini contest?
arent we all.