1. Thursday, November 14, 2002

    hi everyone, this is tony’s blog 

    i’d speak in italics but thatd be annoying and those are his gimmicks, not mine.

    tony is passed out, pissed that the los angeles parks department has had five days to take care of the softball fields of this fine county and hasnt done so and the xbi playoff game had to be postponed until next week.

    he also was given the news that the xbi wasnt interested in a blog for their website, the job that he secretly has been applying for despite being handed the promotion to captain of chopper one, the finest, quietest, fastest, most deadly immoral black uber copter in the bureau.

    blogs are considered amateurish, he was told.

    and i say good. finally he can quit holding back in this blog. and if he wants to say fuck he’ll say fuck. if he wants to say raymi is one sexy bitch, he’ll say it.

    raymi is my secret canadian love slave.

    she cant keep her clothes on.

    she likes you to see her naked.

    shes funny but not in a cutesy way.

    and no way in hell is she nuh nuh nuh nuh nineteen.

    hey, nineteen.

    tony holds back on you so much.

    sometimes i wonder if his foot gets tired mashing that brake like all day.

    this girl came over the other day and tricked him into having sex with her.

    super pretty girl but that didnt matter she wanted it rough as in ouch bitch

    maybe she’d been a stripper once cuz she whipped her hair around like a pro

    kept trying to get the upper leg

    sunk her teeth in, defied gravity, shape shifted, scratched, turned into a wolf at least eight times

    how come he never told you even one thing about her?

    and what about the one who sat on one end of the room and talked so dirty in such a sweet voice

    and she lifted up her dress and

    she said no you sit right there

    even the music stopped the lights stopped twinkling the wood didnt dare squeak everyone wanted to watch this little whisp of a girl with her legs out like that and her eyes zeroed in on him and his eyes zeroed in on her lipglossed filthy mouth

    she was saying things that he wished he’d said

    things that still suprises him when she calls up now and then and reminds him

    i bet he wasnt even going to tell you about what happened in the subway today at hollywood and highland which is a crying shame cuz if he doesnt tell you then who out of seven hundred and fifty thousand blogs is gonna tell you, hollywood and highland of course the new center of hollywood.

    black dude comes out i swear to you with a boom box on his shoulder busting with the hip hop.

    it’s jay-z’s the blueprint part two.

    different black guy in a dress shirt and tie says is that part two

    and they give each other the soul shake finished off with the one shoulder hug, pat on the back

    boom box guy danced around clear wide tape holding in the eight d batteries gay asians saying to each other why doesnt he turn that trash down

    third black dude cant believe what he’s hearing and neither can i

    neptunes baby he tells us

    no radios no eating no drinking no smoking says the signs everywhere

    eight ten pm

    fuck those fucking signs wheres the train no train then fuck you let the music play

    he doesnt tell you about his old best friend in high school whose dad was mafia and whose girlfriend was generally considered the town slut.

    do you have any idea what sort of life he leads? dont ever feel sorry for him. ever. greatest friends alive. hottest babes. funnest jobs. even his bad days are day dreams.

    he doesnt tell you about half of the web sites he goes to or about any of the tv he watches or who he really emails and chats with and whats going on with him

    and he acts all suprised that places like the la times are conservative when hes about ten times as conservative

    and he doesnt have shit to lose cuz they wouldnta hired him anyhow and he has nothing and therefore he has everything.

    everything you can take with you when you sleep.

    raymi fucks the city