1. Tuesday, February 11, 2003

    i havent had sex in weeks. 

    how to people live like this?

    for fashion week sean john asked me to do something different. i said, diddy, everyone knows that fashion, just like fucking, is all attitude. you present it right and you could do a whole line made from burlap bags. he must have been digging into the right bag because this morning i got an email that included the picture on the right with a long message that said that any time i wanted to stop this dream of writing that i could work for him making fashions.

    beware the burlap revolution, the subject header read.

    any time i try to screen a film after 11pm i am bound to fall asleep because im a crankity old man trapped in a crankity old lesbian’s body.

    so last night when i finally got around to popping in “about schmidt” i knew that the film was in deep trouble because its audience was going to pass out any minute since the clock had struck twelve nearly an hour ago.

    how good is the film? besides being an incredibly subtle feature, it kept this reviewer awake until nearly two am.

    i will finish the rest of it tonight. after the osbournes.

    my maid finally showed up. early this morning. too early. do you like knowing about my real life? i dont. normally i get out of the house around 8:15am. she told me that she would arrive around 8am and i was hoping it was on the later side of around instead of the earlier.

    but because she and her sexy step daughter know that they have a tough mountain to climb each time they venture into my stanky lair they do themselves the favor of showing up as early as they can.

    now i am not a rich man. far from it. but i am messy. messier now that ive returned from hell. but i like to take what the universe gives me. sometimes. and while i was talking to my 90 year old land lady last year she said that she had an au pair who only made minimum wage.

    i said that doesnt seem possible. she said i pay her minimum wage, tony.

    i said, i would pay her twice minimum wage to clean my house and she doesnt even have to bathe me.

    the old lady laughed, then stopped laughing, quickly.

    the first few times she cleaned my house i didnt even meet her. i arranged everything via the phone, the old lady had my key, i left a check on a table, and when i arrived home i was greeted with a sparkling new home and the aroma of orange scented pine sol.

    all of my dishes were clean.

    the bathtubs and toilets were happy and white.

    the sculptures were polished.

    and the love swing had been repaired.

    i had given her a ten dollar pre-tip.

    isnt it strange how ten dollars can change everything?

    some guy yesterday said that i had invented a new form of blogging.

    lots of people, actually, have said that over the years, and every time it makes me happy.

    except for today.

    he said that i had invented blegging.

    dude, this is just an art project.

    an entry in the science fair.

    performance art at the talent show.

    competetive magic.

    here i have a top hat, empty.

    and as you can see, i have nothing up my sleeve.

    and if i can type the correct keystrokes on a keyboard

    could there appear a brand new car?

    of course.

    of course theres 1,500 people who could end up clicking that silly picture of anna kournikova and flowing ten measly dollars.

    with 1,000 people cruising by every day, theres no reason why some of them wouldnt want to join in on the fun, the cheap thrill of it all, simply because some fool asked.

    blegging.

    how dare you.

    theres no desperation here.

    life will go on fine with or without this double dare coming to fruition.

    but i would rather take part in something fantastic, as opposed to just another failure

    regardless, no one should feel any pressure, or guilt or anything bad.

    if you just want to watch it happen, be my guest.

    sometimes it is fun to just watch for a little while.

    tabsco guy gave me a buck today.

    thank you tabasco guy!

    moxie