nothing in here is true

  1. Tuesday, August 27, 2002

    i am having the hardest time with this proposal that i need to write 

    i used to have a teacher who said that if a writer gets writer’s block then he shouldn’t write right then. i never liked that teacher.

    i went through all the strange motions of creation last night. i got super excited about how i was gonna do it. i got hyper. i got horny. i got hungry, then thirsty. then i wanted to use the phone. then the bathroom. then i sat down at the computer to do it, then i hit a wall.

    my proposal is going to be in a blogspot blog and i was redesigning the page to look like the company who i wanted to work for. and there was this big blogspot ad on the top so i was able to give in to my procrastination when, after i paid to get the ad off the top, i got a message saying that the ad will stay on for 24-48 hours.

    so that gives me a few more days to be a complete slacker.

    im getting pretty tired of being a slacker.

    what sucks is that nothing motivates me.

    there used to be a time that i wanted to impress the pretty girls. but that doesn’t do much for me any more.

    mostly cuz its not enough to have them impressed. and its not to have them want to make out with me.

    i want them to completely adore me.

    i guess im not that good of a blogger yet.


    and yeah, the money’s good, but it’s not enough to get a cadillac.

    so why do any of it? the fun?

    im old, fun makes me sleepy.

    there are a very small amount of people whose opinions do matter to me, and i think i do this for them, for their approval, for their recognition.

    strange thing about that sort of motivation, rarely do they like the things that i write to impress them, generally they like the off-the-wall things that i just write out of my ass.

    you know what i want though, secretly?

    just between you and me?

    it’s very idealistic, so don’t laugh.

    just like how i don’t want the hotties to like me because of my clothes or my hair or my accent or my shoe size, things that aren’t really me, i want them to like me for my real parts.

    anyhow, i want some big time magazine, i interviewed Anka who, at the time, was writing for Details, this was many moons ago, and she said that she totally made a living and could live in new york city by writing 12 articles a year for Details, anyhow, i want some fancy editor to say, “tony, forget the clips, we know who you are and we see bigger things for you. we want you to interview real people, real celebs. we want to put you on the road with a great camera, and we want you to write three articles a week.”

    i love the road.

    i love the people.

    i love the taking of pictures.

    i love to daydream.

    i love writing and writing and writing and writing through the alleged writer’s block, and real carpal tunnel, you hack teacher, who wouldn’t know a real writer if he sat in the front row of your class with a Gwar tshirt that said “this toilet earth” across the front.

    and for a very few, an extremely few exceptions, the old adage rings true, but of course i’ll polish it up for you:

    those who cant rock


    and those who can rock,

    hit the road,


    and have catholic girl skirt contests.

  2. Monday, August 26, 2002

    hi baby, why the long face? 

    i just lost in the first round.

    no, biggie, anna, it’s just a tournament.

    hi, it’s the u.s. open. it’s so not “just a tournament.”

    im sure you played well.

    well is not the word. i got slaughtered: 6-3, 6-0.

    venus get you again? serena? martina?

    shit, i wish. friggin Angelique Widjaja.

    in english, baby, sound it out.

    Angelique Widjaja! i am saying it right.

    what is that french?

    hell if i know, tony. i think shes from Indonesia or some shit.

    wheres that?

    far east.

    like Philly?


    im sorry pumpkin. i guess that means that you’ll be flying out here tonight, right?

    no, i have to stay out here to lose in doubles too.

    well thats good, at least you can focus on that then, right?

    are you even listening to me? i think im just going to focus on crying right now. oh, tony. why cant you be here with me? i just knew this was going to happen.

    postitive thoughts, my little vodka tonic.


    baby steps, all this year is just baby steps. by the end of this year you will be soooo much better it wont even be funny.

    people are laughing at me, its already funny — for them.

    i hate my internet connection.

    whats wrong with it?

    i dont know, it keeps telling me that this chick beat your ass.

    AAAAHHHH. thats her, thats her, take it down!

    that little kid beat you in NYC?

    please dont rub it in.

    oh, anna, now i think im going to cry with you.

    i know. fuck FUCK. FFFFFFFUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKK!. my life sucks SO bad. fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

    let it out, babooshka.

    fuckME! fuck fuck FUCK!

    what did you say?

    i said Fuck!

    no, i think something freudian slipped out, something that bears repeating.

    AAARRRRGGGGG. i dont know, please dont be mean im gonna jump right off the next bridge i see, i swear to friggin God.

    anna, baby. just chill. you had a rough time in canada, and this was a fluke. you need to stay positive. new gameplan. be aggressive, charge the net. play to kill. forget about playing to win, play to kill.

    and maybe a new outfit?

    think pink.

    i cant stand pink.

    ok, but think new outfit.

    i cant even think.

    i know, but stay away from bridges. just drink a lot tonight. go to the movies. and drink in the dark.

    that sounds so sad, tony.

    it’ll motivate you. any time you want to give up, just think of that drunken night in that dreary new york city movie theatre when you watched “The Country Bears” sippin on that 40 alone after you lost to some chick named Jumanji.

    you really are a twisted genius, tony.

    you really are better than you’re playing.

    you think so?

    no, not really.


    but im willing to be wrong, pretty girl.

    ok, im going to slit my wrists now.

    over the sink. or in the bathtub. dont leave a mess.

    i miss you so much, tony.

    i miss you too, my lil sugarcube. country bears, southern comfort, Spectravision, then call me tonight. k?

    k. bye thanks.

  3. housekeeping 

    the carpal is getting better. it’s a slow heal. trust me when i tell you that i want it gone. im bursting with ideas and it kills me not to let them out.

    unlike other bloggers who pretend to love you, i actually do. i actually want to attack you with new stories, photo essays, entries, personalities, outrages, money making schemes, tales of heartbreak, lies, hotties, and replacements lyrics.

    i also want to give props to those who have linked the busblog.

    so what you can do (if YACCS decides to stay up) is, if you are not linked already on the left hand side 101 links, and if you have linked me on your site, and if you would like to be linked on my upcoming new list of links, please put your url in the comments section below.

    if you have linked me on the top of your list of blogs, please let me know, and/or if you have flowed to the busblog, let me know too. you can do so by simply identify yourselves with the mysterious asterick* after your url.

    you will be taken care of in a slightly more special manner. ::cough:: hint ::cough::

    im in a terrific mood after only three hours sleep and i dont know why. but im happy and i hope you are too.

    p.s. my old hotmail address is constantly full so i have a new one, it’s xxxtonyxxx at hotmail, fyi.


    the mgm’t

  4. republicans are dirty racists phonies 

    . i took the weekend off to rest the wrists for a project im gonna work on this week and to take in the sunset junction street fest starring my rock heroes Sonic Youth (click the pictures!), then check the PayPal tally late last night, and whoa, what’s this? $50 from Ian in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, $40 from james in texas, $3.05 from mark, and $5 from paul. Thanks, fellas!

    James wrote a little message along with his $40 that said, “To prove you’re mistaken about us dumb, white, old, fat Texas republicans. You know I love you…always have, always will.”

    James, consider the stereotype erased.

    For the rest of you, have i mentioned that Liberals are lazy, blondes are stupid, redheads are sluts, the Irish are drunkards, the homeless are smelly, college kids are slackers, mac users are geeks, Linux users are commie geeks, Floridians are fakers, the french are lazy, yankee fans are spoiled, ivy league grads are stuck up, bushmen cheat at pool, catholics are idolaters, bud selig can’t get it up unless thinking about boy scouts, and elton john is straight?

    prove me wrong.

    the $98 weekend windfall means that if i get over $2 before the month is over, as per my little comments conversation with kevin holtsberry, i will have to eat eel. even though everyone swears that this is a delicacy that i shouldn’t avoid, i’m not looking forward to it, but i will be happy to own up to my end of the bargain because i am overwhelmed by all of your insane generosity.

    this weekend i was stalked by my birthday twin Simone, a girl who went to catholic highschool with meesh, knows everyone in los angeles, has seen tsar multiple times, and makes incredible necklaces and earrings.

    she did exactly what you should do if you want to get me out of the house: phone me several times, show up in a mustang convertible on saturday morning, and invite me to a cheap mexican breakfast. she did bring along two other guys, one who had his shirt off and a cowboy hat, the other who looked like a GQ model, making me wonder if i was going to be beaten and attacked in west hollywood, but all went smooth and i had a really good time with this fascinating young woman.

    yesterday she came over again and we watched the new episode of the anna nicole smith show, which is only getting better and better, america. God i love that show.

    mtv is doing the right thing. they’re taking the hype of the anna show and putting reruns of Ozzy on right after anna’s half hour is over. man, i wish i knew someone at E! to convince them to put on something interesting after anna– like maybe a Classic Howard Stern episode? hell, anything to keep their viewers. seems like they go all out to get people to tune in on sunday at 10 and then they just let em go at 10:30. But what do i know. E! finally has a huge hit show. i’m happy for them. they’re my favorite station.

  5. Saturday, August 24, 2002

    the art is back 

    as per requested by coulter

    so my request of him is, now, bring back the rock.

    even while taking a hiatus, tsar is the best band in america.

    and if i were to write something for blogcritics dot com, it would be to praise my friends of hollywood who delivered not just one great anthem on their self titled debut, but three: i dont wanna break up, calling all destroyers, and teen wizards.

    thats the triple prong attack, ladies and gentlemen.

    when you have the ability to release on the public three real life teen pop trash glam rock rock rock hits that could easily fit on any summer teen flick blockbuster why wouldnt you? hollywood records, owned by disney, have a few movies that come out to exploit these fine young gentlemen, dont they?

    but, oh yeah, thats right, hollywood records has never broken a band in its history.

    the closest thing they had, as infamous as it might be, were the insane clown posse, who, perhaps because of their sloppy and very public drop from the label, went on to sell millions overnight, cultivating an intensely bizarre cult following, which, unfortunately is slightly different from the conservative beliefs of the house of mouse who dont have any freaky frenzied fans themselves, of course.

    hollywood records knows how to release movie soundtracks, but they wouldnt want to be tsar on any of those, not with tsar’s spacy ambience and heartbreaking choruses.

    save the soundtracks and monies and videos and world tours for bbmack, who, i keep hearing, play their own guitars!

    cuddly And talented?

    yes tsar looks gay sometimes.

    but tsar isnt gay.

    if i was a teen boy homophobic i would probably hedge my bets but trust me, theyre just doing that to get the ladies, see?

    and strangely it works.

    everyone needs to go download tsar, listen to it, and tell me truly what they think, in the comments.

    i’d seriously like to know your opinons.

    thank you.

  6. Friday, August 23, 2002

    things i learned this week 

    by tony pierce

    1. my esp is pretty good, i thought there was a disturbance in the tragic kingdom, and sure enough, ashley was finished with me.

    2. say that Repulicans are racists, and suddenly they dont want to flow funds to the busblog (i was only just kidding, friends… mostly).

    3. i do have the willpower to kick my dirty little smoking habit for a full work-week and not want to jump off a bridge.

    4. being 108 years old means that you have to warm up every day before softball practice, not just a mere 30 minutes before.

    5. carlisa and her sister are super cool and excellent softballers.

    6. Toi Hollywood makes an excellent Tom Kha Kai, and its spicy when you demand the chefs to prepare it thusly.

    7. The voters of American Idol are all teen white girls who dont wanna give a sista a break.

    8. Rabbit can totally get away with only posting once a week to ten days and people still love her.

    9. A. Beam can totally get away with not posting for weeks and weeks, and people still love h_ _.

    10. Blogcritics.com is super rad without me and they should probably take my link off their left hand column.

    11. I really don’t have to be professional to be a paid journalist here in LA.

    12. this chick is pretty fucking funny.

    13. it’s really awesome to have ken and matt back.

    14. no-talent radio morning shock jock ripoff artists really can get fired for finally putting something interesting on the air.

  7. Hi, National Scrabble Champ! 

    ferme la bouche, pussyass female dog.

    pardon me, champ?

    festering cur. rapscallion. whiner. fraud!

    tap tap. is this thing on, im talking to you, fella.

    yes, tony my ears are fine, my eyes are fine, my fingers are adroit my brain is alight, my soul is sick and my nose is awake, i can smell you from where you sit and your stench is quite droll and revealing, i am not impressed with your fiction, your page, your lies, your cries, your tears, your fantasies, your howls, your jests, your malaise, your pleas for monies nor the amount you receive. you get everything, mr. busblog, and nothing satisfies you. you are a big fat black hole, a fuck noir. you take and take and do not give. you type and spell poorly and use run-on sentences and you haven’t updated your scrabble word of the day in several months now and you dare speak in my general direction? if i had a Zippo i would light a fart and blue flame your eyebrows off.

    dude, what the hell crawled up your ass?

    you disgust me. you have everything at your disposal, friends, money, fame, looks, heritage, soul, humor, spirituality, talent, virility, hair, masculinity, finesse, grace, endurance, wit, sarcasm, deception, girth, resiliency, courage, innocence…

    i wouldn’t say girth.

    tony, i haven’t been with a woman that i haven’t had to pay for in over 45 years.

    friend, we all pay one way or another.


    do you have any idea how much Diet Coke ashley drinks? or my phone bills? i have to win this weekend’s $115 million lottery jackpot just to break even!

    touche, but i stand by my argument that you should not be holding any pity party while you still have stank on your pinkie.

    being scrabble champ doesn’t help you pull?


    maybe its that winning attitude.

    i will not be your whipping boy, mr. pierce, and i refuse to be the butt of your so-called comedy. i just want you to know that theres a million men out there who would trade places with you in a new york heartbeat and you need to remember that before you type up your screams off the balcony for it falls upon deaf ears and only makes you appear selfish, unappreciative and morose.

    ok, buddy, the thing is…

    the name’s Joel.

    ok, joel, with your vocabulary i bet you could talk up a girl real good. women can be wooed by their ears. and if you can win these tournaments more often–

    they’re only held once a year.

    then what you need to do is just set up a table in the park like the chess guys do and challenge people to games.

    no one dares play me.

    then make up quickie games, like “10 minute Scrabble Game $10” you could make $60 an hour.

    ahem, that is against the International Scrabble Rules, also I do not gamble at Scrabble, also as a Quality Assurance Manager for Raytheon I make upwards of $75 an hour, before overtime, of which I get plenty.

    fine, joel, fine. so you have money, you know your way around the dictionary, just go out with a woman, woo her with that crazy charm of yours, have her close her eyes, and start talking dirty to her. the chicks love dirty talk.

    perhaps you have a point there, tony.

    that’s what im here for.

    well, i might give it a try.

    you know, sometimes, joel, you just have to say what the fuck.

    ive been saying wtf for a long time, tony, although not in that context.

    maybe you should try.

    seven letter triple word scores to you, my new friend.

    right back at you, nerd of the week.

    hey would you put up that picture of meesh when you post this, i know you’re going to post this, you’re going to post this, aren’t you?

    i would be more than happy to put up the picture of meesh. it was nice of her to send me the image, i wouldn’t want to be as selfish as you suggest.

    spectacular! ok, bye!

  8. meesh emailed me 

    meesh emailed me some self portraits to cheer me up, she says shes having a good hair day. i dont think that girl has ever had a bad hair day in her life.

    women have the strangest ideas about things. i will never understand why it is that they make themsleves up so that other women will approve. i will never understand this whole obsession over weight. or the Golden Girls.

    but maybe i will one day, and im sure that if i do i can credit it to the likes of my pals kitty and sk smith (pictured) who were kind enough to post a super long chat they had the other day where they go through a laundry list of topics that starts with a dead hamster and concludes with sarah being called a “flatassed white girl.”

    i have had the pleasure of taking in the passing glance at both of these young ladie’s posteriors– it was a glance, dan, i swear– and of the two, kitty has no grounds to call any other white girl flatassed, she is one of the skinniest girls around.

    anyway, the only thing better than two old chums sharing their insights, is two super cool super smart very attractive young women being silly making up words and talking about underwear shopping.

    back to meesh, our friends at pantrogsblog on monday posted a very nice unreleased picture of the reigning Miss Oxnard on an incredibly good hair day

    now that the carpal is healing i might actually get to doing a review of links that i missed during the week and posting them on the weekends.

    yeah, just what i need, more shit to do on saturday.

  9. the hard part about dating killer girls 

    is that it kills when they leave you.

    ashley came over last night cuz i wasn’t answering her calls or her emails and when she called me at the xbi the operator wouldn’t let her through until she remembered that i didn’t really work there.

    “there is no tony pierce that works here,” the operator said.

    “i know he works there, oh, sorry Sonny I. LaVista, this is so stupid, may i speak to Agent LaVista then. aaaahhhh!” ashley sighed. she thinks its all a game.

    “hello?” i said. no one calls me at work.

    “hi avoider,” she said.

    me and ashley had very few fights during our year and a half together. if we did they got settled pretty fast. the key to fighting with me if you’re a chick is to hold my hand and take me to the bed room and hold me and make me whisper. otherwise it will be nuclear war. and lord help you if you try to fight with me via email. you’ve never seen such writing.

    so ashley got in her new car, took the 405 at 5pm, over to the 710, over to the 101, exited at the secret offramp and made it up to my bachelor pad in the griffith park hills right as the pizza guy was leaving. she had on a super short miniskirt, ponytails and a bellyshirt. he said, “are you coming to see tony?” she said yeah. he said, “shit, can i join you guys?” she said the right thing, which was, enjoy the fat tip im sure he gave you. and knocked on my door.

    after a few minutes we were cuddling on my couch watching my favorite show, hbo’s behind the scenes look at the despised dallas cowboys in training camp, a few minutes after that we were doing things they don’t show on hbo, and an hour after that she was saying that all of that was a mistake, and that’s when i knew it was really over between us.

    it had been too much of me pushing her away and being cold on the phone and distant and semi-rude. i was always sweet whenever we would be together but it was hard for me to open up every night on the phone because i didn’t want to lead her on and i wanted her to be open to other guys and now that she found a vegas boy who paid attention to her, i suppose she felt confident enough to get rid of me, her backup boy.

    “i just don’t feel the same,” she told me. “i love you, but i don’t looooooooove you anymore.”

    in 108 years of rock n roll, ive heard that one before. perhaps you have heard it too. i oughtta make a fucking tshirt.

    i know im not the easiest person to be with. it’s all fun and games at the beginning, but i can be confusing. i don’t try to be. sometimes i get scared. and for the most part ashley did just what babes should do, just kiss me and say, “i know tony is really in there, im gonna rub your lamp and wait for the genie to come out. oh, i see something is stirring, not sure if that’s a genie or not.”

    probably the thing that did me in was her relationship with her first boyfriend ever. shes so idealistic about it. they both love the same music and a lot of the same ideals and when i was twenty i thought that it was those sorts of extraneous similarities that make a relationship work, but now i know it’s super basic generalities like: are you into me, do you want me, can you talk to me, do you trust me, do you want this to work out?

    if both people are like, hell yeah, to all of those, All of them, then it doesn’t matter if shes into rock and you’re into rachmaninoff, the differences will be good things and you’ll make beautiful music together.

    of those things i think the two most important are trust and communication.

    trust, not like, “is this person gonna bang the next ho who says he’s cute,” but trust meaning, “i don’t really understand that theory, but i’ll go with it, cuz he seems to believe in it.”

    often i think that relationships are like spelunking in a super dark jaggedy cave filled with sleeping monsters. do you want to get out of there? do you want to enjoy the journey? are you into talking each other through it? do you trust that the other person knows what the hell they’re saying when they say “50 feet ahead is a hole, when you feel the slime jump as far as you can in the dark to the right”? and are you sure you want to be doing this with me?

    i totally enjoyed jumping through he murky darkness after the slime in the dark with the daisy girl from another world.

    a few weeks after breaking up with chris i took a flight to vegas to meet ashley for the first time and i was scared to death that the nineteen year old glittergirl would not at all be into me. i can be somewhat entertaining on paper, or in a chat, and sometimes on the phone, but in real life i don’t have any cue cards, writing staff, or delete button to help my shit out, it’s just me.

    she was a blonde glow. a poof of hair and smile and cuteness and girlieness for days. it was ten pm when i picked her up at her daddy’s house and she was as bright as the sun running out of that mansion and into my rental car. i shoulda brought my sunglasses.

    weezer’s “dope nose” came on as we left the second security checkpoint of her gated community and headed towards the dairy queen and normally i don’t eat very much, but i remember not eating hardly anything because ashley looked so much better in person than in her pictures, which was shocking since she had given me hundreds of pictures during the four months that we had been chatting.

    am i happy that shes moving on with her life?

    of course.

    do i secretly hope that she will figure out that you can love someone and not looooooooove them and be able to come over some dark and stormy night and molest them in their sleep with the christmas lights flashing and the boom box blasting and the books falling off the shelves?

    what do you think?

    did i cry last night? did i ask her nice to spend the night with me, no monkey business, even though it meant that she would have to wake up at 6am to make it back to the orange curtain to get to her new job? was she sweet enough to say yes even though she hates waking up any time before 2pm?

    am i still the luckiest man in the world?

    well for the answer to that question, and many more, i guess you’ll have to stay tuned.

    same dork time.

    same dork channel.

  10. Thursday, August 22, 2002

    props to kurt 

    who stoked the busblog exactly $6.66 in the name of Ozzy, and i can get behind that.

    In fact, I invite each of you to be as kurt, how many people can we get to donate $6.66 before the month is over? my guess is six.

    a gentle reader wants to know some questions about the Replacements, specifically “why did they name their record ‘Tim’?” and “whats up with the crazy graphics on the cover of ‘Tim’?”

    he also questions why i would include the lyrics of “kiss me, on the bus” on this hallowed page, and is curious to why a lot of mats fans love that song so much.

    i dont know why they named it Tim

    i dont know whats up with the graphics, i suppose you gotta put something on the cover

    i included the song lyrics of that tune because this is the busblog, and that is a great lil diddy about being on a bus.

    and i think that fans like that song so much because it’s sorta sweet.

    also, for all the people who liked the words to “If Only You Were Lonely” you can download the mp3 here.

    this just in from my man Russ who writes:


    Love your blog, but can’t flow you a buck at the moment so I’ll pass on this small tip.

    The thing to get at Foo Chow is Fried Eel. Most of their food isn’t so hot, but the Fried Eel rocks. It is a regional delicacy from the (who’da guessed it) Foo Chow area of China near Taiwan. Also, the Mu Shu pork is decent. The rest of the dishes are well… you’ve been there.


    it’s gonna take an awful lot to get me to eat Eel, as in a lot. i remember reading a book about babe ruth who used to catch eel with his mom in baltimore, before they sent him off to an orphanage, and how he loved it. and all the hotties who eat sushi swear by the snakelike fishlike snake, but i like chicken and wontons and all the normal things, but thanks anyhow, and anyone who goes to the jackie chan restaurant that we dis(cus)sed earlier this week, Russ has your back.

    and finally Greg writes in and asks:

    Hey Tony, I’m driving through Las Vegas tomorrow night, late.

    Could you recommend a hotel? I won’t be gambling or seeing a show or anything. But I want to stay in a nice place. And I’m constantly flush with cash, because I’m a Republican (try it).

    I ask you because you’ve got style. Indisputable.

    Greg, the hard rock is karisa’s favorite but it’s off the strip.

    now, if you want your car right next to your door, i like the howard johnson’s on south las vegas blvd by the stratospere, definately no fuss.

    if you want to live like a high roller, the Bellagio is still the best, however Paris has its charm

    at $100 a night it’s the same price as a Holiday Inn in San Diego, but expensive for Vegas standards, but Ceasar’s is my favorite because it’s the eternal classic.

    throw a few chips on black.

    keep those cards and letters coming. and while im here, lets give a huge shout out to my girl chris who went to a rave last night on a school night giving the middle finger to adulthood responsibilities and had her self a swell time from all reports. God, i love that girl.