apparently someone saw me getting picked up from work by ashley the other day in her brand new car and was wondering if i still liked riding the bus.
while it’s true that its nice being picked up and driven to work by a cute girl in her new ride, just like dreams those moments are fleeting. but i am still quite a fan of the mta here in los angeles. and i know i might bitch from time to time at the people who scoot all the way to the middle of the bus to stand rightnexttome even though theres lots of standing room in the back or in the front, or complain about the gang members who bring their bikes onto the subway at 745am when you’re not supposed to have ANY bikes on the subway between 6-9am, or gripe about the surley busdrivers who dont say hello or goodbye or how the hell are ya and stop too fast at corners or speed away too fast as people are running towards them, i still love the bus.
someone else writes in and asks about ashley’s latest diary entry which she posted yesterday all about her first love, rocko. “Why is your woman writing about this guy when she’s still wit you?”
okay, it’s a fact that ashley did write that piece in my computer room, on my new computer chair, with my new ergonomic keyboard tray, while drinking Diet Coke that i bought, and eating food that i bought, after buying no doubt tickets with my credit card, after being completely satisfied by my big ten inch .. record that plays the blues …
where was i? what was the question? am i jealous? no im not jealous.
if a young girl comes to your house and you wine her and dine her and take her to movies and get thatclose to introducing her to her alltime hero and treating her nice and touching her the way that she loves and waking the neighbors and etc. and if once you leave the house she writes about some other guy, just take it as feedback, and get back to saving the world.
cant please everyone.
another gentlemen writes in to ask how i can choose just one office hottie to have a lil crush on out of all the beautiful ivy league grads who work at the xbi?
easy. after 108 years i know exactly what i like. i also have a superpower where i can see people’s hearts. this came in handy when i was a recruiter for the dot com. some fellas undress a woman with their eyes, i look for that something special and usually i can find it. sometimes it’s not so sweet, sometimes its way sweeter than you’d expect.
i happen to sit at a desk where the ladies just parade by and a few of them have the most beautiful hearts.
“please explain #65: i think oj didnt do it”
1. the glove didnt fit 2. a man dating a playboy playmate doesnt repeatedly stab his exwife over a fit of “lover’s rage” 3. mark furman claims he jumped over OJ’s gate to make sure that OJ was ok (something im sure he does for every exhusband of dead wives that he stumbles across in LA county) and suddenly finds a bloody glove… that didnt fit
“I’m sorry but for #79 (“loves… williams”), I honestly don’t know if you mean Anson Williams or Clarence Williams III. Or somebody else.”
i mean Dr. William Carlos Williams of “the red wheelbarrow” fame.
“The Red Wheelbarrow”
so much depends
a red wheel
glazed with rain
beside the white
“how can you watch the howard stern show for an hour everyday, without having cable for 6 years?”
i have DirecTV
and finally, as per the very important matter of my favorite beer, i claim Sam Adams, to which a curious reader asks, “What happened to Old Style?”
Old Style was the beer of my youth. it’s only sold in the midwest. i love it still, but since i have lived in California for a very long time, it’s about time for me to live in the present and claim a brew that i can enjoy on this side of the mississippi, my dark ale, sam.