1. Friday, December 6, 2002

    winona just got back from her trial in beverly hills, and boy is she pissed. 

    “i can’t believe you bust your ass interviewing totally young southern girls, and then getting an exclusive club review from paris hilton and you get one measly comment! this is a fucking outrage.”

    winona was so mad she broke the italics button.

    “what does a man have to do to get a little love in the blog world? dont they know you still have carpal tunnel? dont they know you’re trying to walk the path of the straight and narrow? dont they know that you are pounding the pavement up and down the mean streets of this city trying to find a copy shop or printer or publisher to knock out a few hundred copies of your Blook so you can deliver them before Christmas? Dont they know how you bust your ass for them?”

    i pretty much sit on my ass, baby. its cool.

    “it ISNT Cool! whats cool is after you write something if 70+ people commented. fucking Oish doesnt update for a week at a time and all her readers comment. same goes for pretty much everyone. why is it that they dont comment here? all they have to do is say ‘you fucking rule, tony, god i love you.’ but they dont. they take and they take and they take and they take.”

    shoplifter, easy.

    “yes, i take too. we all take in one form or another, but i give back. i make the movies for your asses. i pose for the photos for your asses. i was on SNL – which they tried to fuck me for in the sentencing today.”


    “fuckbrains. and now im gonna cough up about ten large and do 420 hours of community service.”

    four hundred and how many?

    “480. sorry. im just so pissed off. and whats the story with how people ride the bus in this town? i mean really.”

    what are you talking about?

    “oh, they took away my drivers liscense today at the hearing.”

    how come?

    “fuck if i know, i didnt run off in a car with their shit. i had a driver. hows a bitch supposed to work in this town without a drivers license. so i had to take the fucking bus home.”

    where do you live?

    “santa monica.”

    so did you take the 4 from beverly hills down santa monica blvd?

    “i got lucky and there was a 304 express.”


    “yeah. but this fuckwad– full bus, okay. this old fucking bitch is in the back of the bus. she pulls the string whatever to ring the bell, she walks all the way through people to the front of the bus to exit. WHORE! what does she think the back door is for?”

    please, dont tempt me.

    “it’s for getting off, bitch.”

    thats a better line than i was thinking.

    “i dont know how you do it tony. you ride with all these morons, then you bust on the blog and you get no respect.”

    yeah. hmmm. yeah.

    “i wish there was something i could do for you.”

    i think youve done enough.

    “i’d steal you a scarf but im sorta a marked woman.”

    its all good.

    “and i bet you’d look great in burberry.”

    its the thought that counts, winona. now go out there and make mr. deeds 2 for me.

    “what are you doing tonight, tony?”

    i have a date.

    “what about tomorrow?”

    im gonna watch the OU game.

    “wanna watch it at my house?”


    “bring your swim trunks. i have a hot tub.”

    i cant seem to find my trunks, winona.

    “even better.”

    8. tonypierce.org

    force the goose