1. Sunday, April 13, 2003

    looks like another year that i’m getting passed over 

    for a pulitzer.


    woke up with clippergirl next to me this morning. she was playing with what little hair i have.

    you have the longest eyelashes for a boy she told me.

    i mumbled something about carrottop and rolled over.

    she said no no no its early lets seize the day, lets maul the morning.

    i swear to you she said maul the morning.

    please tony please lets actually do something today. ive been good.

    she had been good. so i told her that we could do anything that she wanted today.

    she asked anything?

    i worried for a second and said, sure, why not. anything.

    a full eight minutes later she kissed me on the cheek and asked me what i wanted to do today.

    i told her that i wanted to go to hollywood park but it was closed.

    she said, what about santa anita?

    i said, i thought you didnt want to rack up miles on your miata.

    she said, fuck the miata, lets go to the races!

    went to the track. im a mess at the track cuz all i want to do is drink and swear. and take pictures.

    clippergirl says ive been annoying with my new camera lately taking pictures of every damn thing, so she asked if we gave the camera a day off. i told her it was palm sunday and how great would it be to take pictures of palm trees today.

    she told me how great it would be to just enjoy the day, like adults, holding hands, drinking white wine, watching the horses with the san gabriel mountains in the background.

    i reminded her that she was a cheerleader and put on my gwar shirt and gave the finger to adulthood.

    clippergirl persuaded me to put on a different shirt and we went to the track.

    we lost all our gambling money after the third race. im not a good bettor. fortunately our drinking money wasnt even close to being tapped.

    when i was right at the point of either being too drunk to drive or just buzzed enough to deal with being at the races without betting, she started asking me questions that i only hear when she is one wine past drunk.

    do you love me tony?

    of course i do.

    who do you love the most?

    my mom.

    who do you love love the most?



    shes only gotten better with age.

    who do you love the least?

    probably anna kournikova.

    why would you say that?

    i only love her for the material.

    on a scale of one to ten, how much do you love me?

    i brought my right hand to my nose, looked up into the blue sky, sniffed and said, eight and a half.

    and i’d be lying if i didnt tell you that it was a quiet ride back home in that miata.

    dan the goose + the fat guy + the buzz machine