nothing in here is true

  1. Sunday, April 27, 2003

    brian: if you had a few more scantily clad women you’d be the howard of the blogs. 

    tony: difference is, i know these people.

    brian: word

    kitty bukkake just ran the boston marathon. whats kitty bukkake doing running the boston marathon.

    she is from mass, and she is a marathon runner, i guess.

    last year i knew four people who ran the la marathon. three were from mass and they were all girls.

    sadly none of them allowed me to see closely the positive effects of marathoning on a young woman’s physique.

    the closest i got was the closest you got, which was last years picture of kitty with her nice medal.

    you totally deserve a medal for running a damn marathon. especially if it does that to your body.

    you know the problem with the tribune corp who owns the la times, is they forgot what they grew up with.

    i grew up with mike royko. and if he was 109 years old and had hot friends, not only would he have a sweet blog on the chicago tribune, but he’d put up sweet pictures of his hot friends.

    not only does the tribune corp not have a blog, but no way in hell would they 1) show sweet pics of their hot friends, 2) let some fool post at 3:21am on a saturday night after a second drunken night with the girl next door, or 3) let him type bukkake.

    sad thing is, if i did have a blog on the la times, it would be so hard to write because i couldnt type bukkake even though thats what la times readers would probably like to know.

    me, i want to know everything. i scour the web in all of my free time. imagine if there was something interesting and worthwhile every damn day from your hometown newspaper.

    in all of los angeles, i pass the newsstand and the times looks up at me and i look down and i say in all of los angeles, this is the best that you can give me?

    met this hot chick at the ivar last night. we stared at each other because we thought we recognized each other. turned out she lived next on the next block. next door, practically.

    probably the hottest chick in the whole club and there she was talking to me and sitting back on the couch like she actually wanted to be there.

    she was doing 151s and coke and la may be my lady but baccardi is my baby.

    did three, no problem. had two beers. we laughed. i smiled so much it was like i had no other expression.

    she went outside to smoke and we started making out

    as an experiment, thank you.

    i have this theory that if you think a girl is hot see if you still think that way after she kisses you with smokers breath.

    sometimes they retain their hotness.

    tradegy struck this morning, however, as i realized that i had no more memory about the evening than that smokers breath experiment.

    and there being a secret balcony upstairs at the ivar, which leads to the roof

    which leads to please let there be on in my wallet

    which leads to thank you for being there

    then no more memory. then quick flash of me tossing the used one by a swirly vent and her taking pictures.

    then her friends limo then jack in the crack curly fries then thank you limoman

    then my floor then my hallway then my bed but just places memory, thats all you have?

    ah yes and the condoms.

    all my brain seems to worry about when completely wasted is birth control.

    i dont think any music was put on the boom box. i dont think any candles were lit.

    you know how sometimes you might be dreaming and that person changes into another person.

    did i call this girl by the wrong name, did i say anything lame

    i wanted to ask her all of these questions today when she came back but she was with her friend and they both got me drunk again and all we did was laugh and tell ghost stories with the lights off like dorks.

    while having a breath holding contest, her friend barfed which is usually a buzz kill, in the dark, at least at my place.

    so the one chick took her limo back to the valley and the neighbor walked herself back around the block.

    and heres something else you’ll never see in the la times blog

    and her momma deserved a medal for making that girls ass

    kitty bukkake + no creativity

  2. Saturday, April 26, 2003

    my true love just called me. 

    shes my true love for lots of reasons but the latest reason is because she just called me from the pit of the main stage at coachella telling me that the beastie boys were just about to take the stage and nearly on cue i heard mix master mike being introduced, a two minute scratching tribute for jam master jay and then my favorite rap group of all, the beasties.

    i laid there on my leather couch, turned down the osbournes, watched my pipe smoking unattended, and marveled at the quality of a cell phone from the desert.

    i love that girl with all my heart.

    hang up any time you want, she told me, and i listened to the whole song, and she came back on the phone and said that she loved me and i told her that i loved her too and told her thanks and she said bye and i said bye.

    you might be like me and watch a lot of e! true hollywood stories, well i live in hollywood and this is a true story, im the luckiest man. i may not get everything that i want, or even some of what i want, but i have been blessed with the coolest girlfriends on earth.

    just wednesday as a matter of fact i was on the phone with my true love and she was in pain because her neck was bothering her and i told her that i would take the bus right over to santa monica and massage her neck.

    she thanked me and told me it wasnt necessary, that her doctor had finally come through with the real meds.

    i told her that i was out the door, that i would rub her feet, that i would rub her back, that i would rub her front.

    she said she’d be asleep before my bus even made it through west hollywood.

    i told her i was going to hijack the bus and floor it down santa monica blvd.

    she said dont say hijack.

    i told her i was gonna busjack that mother and grand theft auto that shit, crashing into the blockbuster near her house and then run to her pad and slide in through the back door and give her what she needs so badly.

    she said that what she needed so badly was sleep.

    i reminded her how beautifully we slept together.

    she sighed a sweet sigh.

    later i said something dirty and then asked her when we’d make beautiful love again.

    she told me it had been two years since we had made any love, beautiful or otherwise and things didnt look good for us ever doing it again.

    it hadnt occured to me that it had been that long, nor that we wouldnt ever indulge again. ever.

    what sort of fantasy had i made up about our future together?

    at 109 years old i knew that even if two people were perfect together, and they both knew it and said so all the time, that it still didnt mean that the girl would want any of it.

    not even a taste. nor a nibble. nor a bite. nor a lick. or two. or twenty. or twenty two.

    i got sad for a breif minute and she could hear it and said she was sorry. i said its ok.

    she said dont be sad.

    i said im not sad, but i lied.

    and when she came over the next day i took hella pictures of her ass so i could remember that id never have that again.

    i need to start remembering that.

    tina + annessa + splink + j_live

  3. because marc brown is the coolest 

    he is going to coachella today. just like chris. just like karisa. just like everyone i know.

    but unlike everyone i know, only mc brown would have the capability to take pictures and then upload them to his pblog so that all of us, even you, could see what its like to go to the coolest festival of the summer. even before summer has started.

    join us now as marc brown goes into the desert to see the likes of the white stripes, sonic youth, the beastie boys, the donnas, iggy and the stooges, queens of the stone age, blur, ben harper, the hives, blue man group, interpol, gomez, black eyed peas, dirty vegas, johnny marr, the red hot chili peppers, nerd, wild child, ian mackaye (spoken word) and many more.

    why arent i going? many reasons. biggest of all because im a jackass. and cuz tsar wont be there.

    sign up tsar next time, big shots, and you can have my $150 and my two days of eating your food and drinking your costly water.

    it’s nice to have people to live through in real time (or, like the stock market results, delayed by 5-15 minutes). even if their photos are stretched to 640×380 even though he doesnt want them to. and even though the time function is innacurate on the photo blog.

    me, im sobering up from a wild night last night that i will blog about as soon as i get everything sorted out.

    and my dss is still down.

    and i have a hangover.

    and im hungry + thirsty.

    and i cant believe its only saturday.

    a very special madpony + sk smith is always special + raymi can call me anything she wants

  4. its saturday morning. im watching mariah on oprah on tivo. 

    i want to fix my satelitte dish but my neighbors are outside and i dont want to talk to them. secretly im painfully shy. and not very cool. you’ll see.

    last night i caught the subway to vine and walked three blocks north to karisas pre birthday party. her real birthday isnt for a few weeks but she and some other ladies who are also taureses threw a threeway taurus birthday bash at the newest hottest coolest club in la, the wild orchid, formerly the crush bar.

    the crush bar had been a bad quasi gay 80s pop dance club for as long as i can remember. in my opinion it was never cool, but it was always there. a staple. a place tourists might go if they didnt know where to go or couldnt get in to some of the better places.

    recently somebody bought it or sold it or redesigned it or whatever, but now its wild orchid and people are going crazy over it.

    which explained the huge line at 10pm, and the fact that nobody, even these three pretty cute girls werent allowed behind the velvet rope.

    but im tony pierce. and im friends with one of the birthday girls.

    maybe they had a guest list. so i told the bouncer my name and he looked on the list and my name wasnt on it. then he said. tony pierce?

    i said, yes.

    he said, what happened to your fro?

    i laughed and told him that i lost a bet and he told me it looked good. i said thanks. then he told me i should go to the ivar and to tell them that earl sent me.

    i said, but i want to have a drink with karisa for her pre birthday.

    and he said aint nobody getting in there, but he did whip out a ten and flowed the busblog.

    51. earl

    so i went to the ivar. confused, but laughing, cuz sometimes this shit just writes itself.

    almost there + cofeenated + fearful symmetry

  5. Friday, April 25, 2003

    hi america, did you miss me? 

    i missed you too. this morning at the xbi was ca-rrrraaazzzyy let me tell you.

    but enough about me. lets talk about you.

    i hear you went to see Maria McKee last night at the world famous roxy on the fabulous sunset strip. God im so jealous.

    did you have pre-show drinks next door at the Rainbow with two of my ex-girlfriends and my lawyer on the patio being served by hands down the hottest bartendress of all time. think blonde, super cute face, huge implants, betty page hairdo but blonde remember, hairnet, and the lowest hanging jeans youve ever seen. definate butt crack cleavage action which i never thought would be cute, but alas, its cute.

    anyway what did you order from this bartendress? i would have started with a double baileys with a little creme on ice. but if she was that hot, i bet i would have ordered one and then another, and then maybe some water. and then maybe asked her where the mens room is, even though you know theyre upstair, past karisa at the ms pacman.

    and then i woulda ordered a beer when jeanines sister and crazy friend showed up.

    i hear Maria was good. im not in love with her new cd but im still in love with her. people were asking me about her way back during the lone justice days (when she was blonde) and i would say that she was a cross between janis joplin and dolly parton. nice combo if you can get it. and now i would add that she looks like a younger grace slick with her dark hair and wild eyes.

    can she still sing her damn ass off? did she do that tune off the Pulp Fiction soundtrack? the one where she whistles? fucking a i love that one.

    anyhow, i bet you had a great time.

    get any?

    50. kay

    steph and lola (pictured) amuse me + Quinn likes Raymi + tc 210 has my back + and Shift is the shi*t + as is jaded girl

  6. Thursday, April 24, 2003

    jenny yeah got me on instant messenger last night 

    and asked me to take down the link to her site because she was getting too much traffic and it was messing with her chi.

    i said fuck your chi.

    but i did as i was asked and took down her name and link and put up the boing boing link, which is in the spot where the auction-winning link will go.

    lots of hits can affect the way that you write and for jenny i have this bit of advice, dont pay any attention to the spikes when they come. if you do pay attention, only pay attention to why you are getting the hits and how many they are, but when it comes to writing put aside any thought about hits whatsoever.

    what i do is i pretend that only one person is reading what i write. normally i think that karisa is the only person reading this.

    i know that hundreds and hundreds are reading this, but if i think about that it would alter what i write.

    i know that my family is probably reading this, and if i think about that, it would definately alter what i write.

    one way to keep it real, jenny, is to write stuff that youre too self-conscious to write.

    for example, i love my mom with all my heart, but she doesnt like it when i swear. therefore if i feel like im selling out because im afraid she might be reading that day, i make sure to say fuck a few times.


    this wont really stop her from reading, but it balances out things so that i can get back to writing to karisa.


    dodger ace sandy koufax said that the key to pitching is relaxation and concentration. i think the same could be said to writing on your blog.

    i relax with a generous portion of rum. mc brown has gotten me into captain morgan’s spiced rum.

    i think the relaxation part is simple.

    the concentration part is a little tougher, and thats where your audience of one situation comes in. nobody gets nervous writing a letter to a good friend, and when you write those letters they usually end up focused and direct and good.

    if you are trying to write to a huge mass of people who’s devoted readership is important to you, youre going to run into trouble.

    spikes are spikes. most of those people will never come back to you. never. thats not a sad thing, its normal. think about how many sites and blogs you go to every day and how many you return to.

    people arent going to stay. dont be sad. be liberated.

    but also know that some will stay. and they’ll stay because of the general way that you write, not because of anything special you write that day where everyone is coming.

    dont be afraid, jenny yeah. youre a good blogger. you have good design. if that picture is really you, youre a hot babe.

    im sure your chi is fine regardless of how many clicks get sent your way from the busblog.

    jenny + jenny’s photo gallery

  7. dear readers of boing boing, 

    so many of you have written in and asked me so many questions that i have decided to answer them all here in this post. if you have any other questions feel free to put them in the comment box. thanks.

    my name is tony pierce, but very little else on here is true.

    i work for a rouge group of superheroes who were former fbi agents that is secretly called the xbi. based in the city of angels we fight crime and keep the stolen goods and cash and give some of the proceeds to the victims and the poor. but mostly we keep them.

    i fly a black helicopter called chopper one thats the baddest motherfucker youve never seen. its fast, its furious, its quiet, and its unable to be seen on most radar. most of this blog is done from a palm pilot that i speak into which is then uploaded at the touch of a button. thats why the grammar isnt worth shit and the spelling is fuct. if it werent for the spell check in Blogger Pro i doubt any of this would be eligible even to the most talented physic.

    the blog is called the busblog because even though i have a flying car, i take the los angeles public transportation to work. namely the metro rail subway and the mta bus system. this allows me to collect my thoughts for the hectic days and decompress so i can enjoy my long cold nights alone in my bachelor pad in the hollywood hills.

    i am 109 years old, im african american but mostly american, i am a libra, and yes ladies, i am single.

    my hobbies include short walks on the beach, holding hands, and watching my favorite rock group Tsar with all of my friends.

    i try not to write too much about the girls that i date, but i have been known to write about a special nba cheerleader who has the hots for me, several ex-girlfriends who i have the hots for, and a certain russian tennis star named anna who is a gemini – my astrologicial match.

    xeni wrote about me in boing boing last night and for that i am quite flattered. http://boingboing.net/markf.htmlshe called this blog “well trafficked” which might be true, but the Instapundit gets literally 100x the hits that i get, so i consider that well trafficked. regardless, i do have a Stat Tracker that i leave public for this page because it’s pretty accurate and i think it might be interesting for people to see how i get my 800-1,000 hits a day. usually it’s from lots and lots of little blogs, although today is a rare exception.

    i love blogging and it is exciting to be with you here in the beginning of this revolution, and because of that i want to share any information that i might be able to have. to me all of this could be considered a grand experiment. this blog certainly is.

    as xeni wrote, currently im experimenting with an ebay auction where im auctioning off a link from this blog. i did a similar experiment a little over a year ago where i made $15. back then i was getting about 300-400 hits a day. so now with the advent of Blogshares which speculates what an outgoing link is worth, monetarilly, i decided to dust off the ebay auction idea to see how close they were to reality.

    another art project science fair thing im doing is seeing how many of the 1,000 people a day will donate $10 to me so i can buy a car. right now after almost three months ive raised about $600. i think thats pretty good. but its far from the $20,000 that would get me a new car. the purpose isnt to actually get a car, its to get a car simply from asking people who enjoy this blog. if i wanted a car i could just keep one of the many that we at the xbi confiscate from the bad guys we bust.

    but i dont do that. the total amount of funds i keep from the xbi amounts to about $30k a year. all the rest i give to charity, bums, and the united negro college fund. i do that because i dont like blood money and i want to go to Heaven when i die.

    i’d write more about myself, but right now i have to catch a bus.

    my dream job would be to travel the world, blogging about the cool people i meet, ideally for my local paper the Los Angeles Times.

    ive also been known to do “funny” photo essays.

    at the bottom of my posts i like to link cool sites

    boing boing + my best friend is on the main post of reverse cowgirl sitting next to my lawyer + the front of my web site usually has something interesting on it.

  8. Wednesday, April 23, 2003

    you know im a dork, right? 

    well, i am.

    not only do i not talk to the hot chicks on the bus, even though getting a date at the busstop has got to be one badass achievement, but i play fantasy sports.

    i play lots of fantasy sports.

    right now i am playing in 11 fantasy baseball leagues. yesterday it had been cut to 10.

    apparently the commissioner of the league didn’t want anyone challenging his rule. he posted these remarks in the messageboard and then quoted Duke Nukem and told everyone that it was his way or his way and then called us all fags and whiners if we didn’t like it.

    naturally i had a difficult time ignoring the opportunity to throw my two cents into the mix.

    but when he vetoed my Greg Maddux and Alex Gonzales for Jeff Suppan and Rafeal Furcal trade (where I would be getting the future Hall of Famer) i had to say my peace.

    i was immediately rebuffed.

    then someone else agreed with me, and he, too, was put into his place. we were both accused of being homosexual, and then promptly locked out of making any moves and we couldn’t post our statements any longer.

    after a full two minutes of research i found the commissioner’s home email address. then i found his work email address. then i found his work web page. then i found his work phone number.

    i thought about calling his work pretending to be an auto dealer to verify his employment. i imagined that they would say that yes, he works there. then i was going to say, and does he reside at 1122 Boogie Woogie Ave? to which they would probably say, no, he lives at … and then i would have his home address.

    i didn’t go that far. im a writer, and an xbi agent. im no stalker.

    so i wrote him a little email that started off with dear fuck for brains.

    i asked him what sort of nazi locks people out for exercising their freedom of speech.

    then i told him what sort of nazi locks people out for speaking their minds.

    then i went into some graphic detail about his mother and the things that make her different than most women.

    saddest thing in the world is my best writing comes when im super pissed off.

    and just as sad is it usually is wasted on emails to people who quote duke nukem.

    so i concluded my email by telling him that as soon as he was finished licking his moms hair nutsack that he should consider unlocking me and whoever else that he locked out of the league unless he was the pussyass bitch that i was betting he was.

    this morning i was unlocked from the leauge and he told everyone that he was no longer playing.

    sweet victory, im warmed in your glory.

    cannes 2003 line-up + earth-info + folded space

  9. clipper girl knocked on my window last night in the wee hours 

    i thought it was a dream so i rolled over. she said no no no. open the door.

    she had lost her key. but i was still asleep and hearing her voice made me excited so i reached down and kicked off the covers.

    she tapped on the window a little more and called out my name. that only got me more happy and i worked on it.

    this only made the cute clippergirl giggle and she just stood there and watched for a minute and finally started banging on the window which startled me and woke me up.

    tony, she said.

    i looked around and said what to no one in particular.

    let me in.

    i looked over to the window, saw a face where no face usually is and it made me shriek like a girl.

    hi-e she waved.

    i let her in.

    why do i let these people in?

    she came inside my apartment and told me that she wanted to watch tv with me because she had had a nightmare and couldn’t sleep.

    i reminded her that it was 3am.

    she said please please just for a few minutes.

    so i put a log on the fireplace, made her some hot chocolate and we cuddled in blankets on my couch and watched cartoon network.

    what do you want to be when you grow up, she asked me as i sat there with my head on her shoulder.

    not so dumb.

    no really, what would you like to be.

    loved by hundreds.

    you cant even be serious for a minute can you.

    she gets mad easily. oh well. she was nervous for her bffs who cheer for the kings.

    the cocoa made me burn my tongue.

    it always does.

    when i grow up, clipper girl, i want to be as happy as i am right now.

    and with that she turned off the tv

    and we passed out like monkeys on my third hand leather couch.

    splink + mallory + j_e_g