1. Wednesday, July 31, 2002

    i love it when people leave notes for ashley 

    that say im no good and i shouldn’t be trusted.

    i love it because then i know that im not the dumbest person alive. they are.

    how on earth are you going to give advice on a relationship about two people you’ve never even met?

    and why would you?

    what if me and ashley would have ended up being super close friends for the rest of our lives, but both decided not to because some loser housewife in the woods somewhere didnt “get” who im all about and told ashley to “be careful” and she took that as to “not trust” and the entire relationship stumbles and falls?

    ive been hanging out with me for 108 years, lady, and i don’t get me either, but i do know the numbers and the numbers say that if you are in a romantic relationship with me for even six months you have a 95% chance of being my very good friend for ever.

    theres a lot that i “don’t get” in life.

    i don’t get why half of these girls like me, but they do. i don’t get why theres nobody like me, but there isn’t. i don’t get why people write and write and nothing good ever comes out of them, i don’t get why pot’s not legal, i don’t get why drinking is, i don’t get why kroq finds it necessary to shove good music so far up our ass that its not good anymore.

    on paper, a guy with a loser job, no money, no car, no future, and no aspirations other than running a major league baseball team should be getting absolutely no play from the ladies.

    and on paper, ma’am, im sure that your laundry list is even worse.

    which is why, thankfully, life isnt played out theoretically in the mind of the creator, it’s improvised on this great stage. where even an old loser like me and and older loser like you can actually have interesting people hop on top of us and wake the neighbors.

    so step off.

    i don’t understand a lot, lady, but i don’t go to the person who’s squeezing your ass and whisper in his ear, “be careful with that one,” because it would be worthless. that guy knows whose ass he’s squeezing, and ashley of all people on this planet right now, knows about as much about modern day tony pierce dot com than anyone and she may come across as fairy princess with her blonde locks in the clouds but thats just her little game. nobody’s putting anything over our daisy princess, especially me, the one who has tried to kick her out of this relationship a zillion times.

    do i date girls? yes.

    am i honest about everything i do?

    no.

    am i honest about everything i do when i talk to ashley?

    definitely.

    i can look you in the eye and have you ask me any question there is. you can smell my fingers or dna my bedsheets. i trust you, whoever you are, that you have ten times the skeletons in your closet than i ever will have because the only closets i have hold my computer or my clothes and i expose myself in both of them because secrets are for cowards whose motto is “be careful in love.”

    the only thing ashley needs to be careful about is limiting her possibilities. if she wants to come up to hollywood and catch a movie and hold hands and goof off and see the stars, i am totally up for that. if she is doing it to avoid the scary world of dating pimply faced co-eds of UC Irvine who think Korn is the next Zeppelin, then i cant blame her.

    but at some point she is going to stop showering me with her glittery attention and that day will come soon enough, concerned one(s), and it will be me who is the loser in that transaction.

    and then, hopefully, everything, will once again make perfect sense

    to all of us.

    now fuck off and don’t ever waste another thought about what ashley and i should be doing. odds are you have your own miserably pathetic household to ruin.

    check out: ashley’s auctions