my agent booked me to be on a panel

of bloggers that will discuss blogging.

i need to give them a picture of me, and i need to give them a 50 word bio.

only problem is i dont know if i have a good picture of me and i know that i cannot think of 50 words to describe myself and why i deserve to be on that panel.

one of the guys on the panel created Blogger.

another guy is a doctor.

another guy invented one of the best sites on the web, boing boing.

one chick is super hot and a journalist.

another chick is also super hot and also a journalist.

so in lots of ways i am the Everyman that the blogging phenomenom created. i dont get paid to write, im not a code guy, im not famous or even semi famous. im just a dumbass who has access to the internet.

Tony Pierce is simply a dumbass with access to the Internet. He has been a dumbass for 109 years. After being shown the possiblilties of publishing on the world wide web in 1996 by mr. marc brown, he helped contribute to Buzznet, one of the first web zines, and then created his own web zine, Lick.

Since then he has written for and had his poems published in the “Connecticuit Poetry Review” and Santa Barbara’s “Spectrum”.

Recently back from a short hiatus into Hell, the UC Santa Barbara graduate returns to making up fatastical lies and posting them on his strangely popular blog at

i guess that wasnt so hard.

i am a little nervous to be honest with you.

i have no idea what to say, and i have a long list of things i dont want to say.

i dont want to really talk at all about myself. i would like to talk about hits but not for too long because hits dont always mean that you have good stuff.

and i really dont want to talk about how or why i started this thing– at all. because i dont want to lie in public.

in actuality i started this blog so that i could get one particular girl to notice me and think i was cool.

i guess thats all i probably need to say about that.

thanks blog!

3rd Leg

in any relationship

theres going to be some fucked up parts and some not so fucked up parts.

last night when i got back from working at the gravel pit i saw in my mailbox something that i never thought i would see, an envelope from the daisy princess with two keys. one to the beach house and one to my hollywood mansion. there was a little note that was short and sweet, and with that i knew that it was finally over between me and she and out came the bottle of rum, and down went the rum down the gullet and on went life as it should.

and trust me, readers of these pixels, ive persued my fair share of blogs and ive seen people break up and typically one party bitches and moans and reveals confidences and spits and snorts and kicks up dust, but thats not how we do things in the busblog.

ashley princess, glitter girl from another world, i wish you the best with the new boy that you are dating.

i hope he treats you the way that you should and takes you to all the places that you like to go to, and floods you with gifts and kisses and constant attention.

i hope that when your favorite band comes on the car radio that he doesnt pull over and vomits next to a call box.

i hope that when your favorite actors appear on the television that he doesnt make a face and pretend to slit his wrists.

i hope that all your dreams come true and he does all the things that you want him to.

a good friend called me last night and asked me if i was sad and i said sorta.

and he said, well shit, if some total fox who adored me and would do anything for me and was way smarter than people gave her credit for stone cold dumped me, i would be a little bummed out too.

and then the rum kicked in.

and then a messenger from the academy dropped off a screener of Chicago.

and then my hot pockets dinged in the toaster oven.

and then before 20 minutes of the movie had played i was passed out on my couch like the dumb little dog that i am.

christmas lights twinkling, tv blasting, computer whirring, bathroom sink dripping, phillie blunt resting peacefully in the ashtray.

spent like me.

patio pundit