1. Monday, June 10, 2002

    anna called me up, furious. 

    “did you get my email?”

    yes, baby.

    “did you look at the picture?”

    no, anna, you know i dont open attachments. i have had the same 400 MHz computer since 98, solely because i practice Safe Computing.


    yes, dear.

    ok, i opened it. who’s that, dave matthews?

    “uh, no. it’s Enrique.”


    “Enrique Iglesias.”

    oh your boy. i thought his name was something else.

    “no, you call him something else, but his name is Enrique, anyway that is not the damn point. look what he’s doing with that whore!”

    hes singing with her. he is a singer, isnt he?

    “he’s playing with her hair the way that he plays with MINE! I’LL KILL HIM!”

    you know, that ponytail does sorta look like yours.

    “what? ARRRRGGGGG!”

    you could always try to make him jealous by getting it on with me, anna. i hear sometimes jealousy is the best policy.

    “tony, can you just be my friend for just once in your life, and not try to be gross?”

    ok, i’ll try. this is new for me though.

    “what should i do?”

    you should dump him. he obviously got a chick that sorta looks like you and told her to get on her knees, or whatever and he is obviously enjoying having her head near his crotch and–

    “ENOUGH! you are being so sick!”

    babe, he’s a singer. hes the alleged handsome son of a truly great singer. you’re just another pretty face that he used in a video. sorta like what Juvenile and Outkast do, but you’re not shaking your ass in a micro-mini, you’re being the hot famous celeb chick.

    “I want to kill him.”

    kill him by not seeing him any more.

    “no, i want to see him dead.”

    ok, russian gurl, you’re scaring me. you know i work for–

    “yeah, i know who you work for. im just so hurt. AND I GOT HIM THAT HAT!”

    if it makes you feel any better, i got that chick those bangles.


    yeah, i love bangles.


    yes, anna.

    “will anyone ever love me?”

    thats a tough question.


    probably not. love is very hard to find. especially if youre not an american citizen.

    “what is that supposed to mean?”

    and especially if all you do is date like super hot male celebs who have women falling for them left and right.

    “well who else do you think i should be with.”

    nerds. they wont leave you.

    “with my luck they would.”

    you never know until you try.

    “who was that nerd that drew barrymore married, he dumped her.”

    you mean Tom Green?

    “yeah, him, whoever. yeah him.”

    oh, well, date a normal nerd, not a totally freaky one who drinks milk from the udders of cows. i mean, thats sorta asking for it.

    “you know, tony, if you werent my best friend, i would totally date you.”

    just what i wanted to hear, hot chick. i gotta go to bed. go win a tourney for me. that will show him.

    “‘night antony.”

    i’ll burn all my dave matthews records for you.

    “good, but he’s not dave matthews.”

    me too, good-nyet anna.