busblog

nothing in here is true

  1. Tuesday, June 24, 2003

    the comments aren’t really working very well today 

    and yes i upgraded it yesterday.

    and blogger is being upgraded, and i thank them for that.

    yesterday i got an interesting email regarding the comments and blogger and me and my alleged Status in the blogosphere.

    this person said that she has been holding back the praise to me because she sees me getting it all the time and im glad the comments are rickety today because this isn’t about trying to milk more praise from you all.

    but Blogging is really new and the thousand people who come here every day is a really nice thing, but its nowhere near the 80,000 that Instapundit gets and therefore I have never regarded myself as an A-List or Big Time blogger.

    Plus any positive thing that anyone says about me is very welcomed and does not fall on deaf or jaded ears. It all makes me smile and it all makes me want to write more and more.

    Please dont think that just because the average blog gets a fraction of the traffic that i get that that means that instantly makes me feel like a great writer, or heals any confidence issues that I have. it helps but it doesn’t heal.

    libras they say have very low self esteem. and in that case im very much a libra. but its not a big deal the way it used to be. its sorta like a tooth that acts up occasionally.

    ive done my best to turn it into a motivating device. for example i know that i’ll never be able to write like layne or welch or the rabbit, but i can do photo essays and fake interviews and lie and lie and lie, which would be different than them, not necessarily better.

    anyway, i guess the point of all of this is if you read something online and you like it you should tell the person regardless of the perceived popularity because odds are everyone likes to hear nice things. i know i do.

    also if you really like a site or blog that you think is popular and you dont want to link to them because you think they get enough links, i can understand.

    but i still like to be linked by everyone who likes me and reads me daily.

    when i get 80,000 hits a day maybe i will feel differently.

    i’ll let you know then.

    instapundit + brett lamb + black mask

  2. Monday, June 23, 2003

    while i was on vacation 

    my man matt suggested in my comments that i run for governor for the state of california, a state that ive been lucky enough to be a resident of for the last 19 years and 18 days.

    he says that i should run because no one else is going to run democrat worth a damn.

    he says i should run because no one else is going to have a platform of legalizing weed under the threat of secession.

    and he says i should run because the groundswell of blogger support will most definitely secure my success.

    and he says that tsar should play at all my rallies.

    he left out van halen (minus sammy, plus dave.)

    matt wants me to be californias first black governor but i don’t wanna do it.

    california as a state is one thing, and as a political state its a whole nother animal, not really one that i want to be involved in.

    and sacramento?

    sacramento is just a town where the lakers are assured victory, its not somewhere that i would want to live for eight years.

    talk about heat. palm springs was a walk in the park compared to a summer in sacto. if i was governor i would have to escape to my lake tahoe retreat as much as possible.

    plus i want willie brown to be our first black governor.

    i don’t care what anyone says.

    every other state is allowed to have terrible guys run their state, at least with willie ours would be interesting.

    if i was the governor i would fix the freeways. for some reason we are in freeway denial here. more and more people move to cali and they bring their wives and kids and all of their cars and we pretend that the 405 doesn’t need to be any wider or the 10 or the 101.

    and everyone pretends that you can just keep building and building in la and its not gonna matter.

    i would put my hands on my hips and i would say more freeway lanes, less houses.

    id get shot at a bunch but i would shoot right back, fuckers.

    id turn the 5 freeway from bakersfield to fresno into the american autobahn, since this is the land of the free.

    so much would be solar powered you wouldn’t even believe it.

    june sixth of each year would be nudie day where everyone would be encouraged to walk around nude.

    yes, everyone.

    im not ashamed.

    october twenty second would be shake the hand of a hundred people day because even though i am pretty disgusted with the catholic church one of the things i got nervous about but liked was when you’d turn to your neighbor and say peace be with you.

    there’d be free aids tests at every hospital and free condoms at the malls and yes

    the state would be wireless.

    since we’re not savages.

    but best of all,

    skateboarding would not be a crime.

    bonnie and charlie are WHAT? + charlie + charlie and bonnie + bonnie

  3. sorry i didnt write much today, i had to go to adam sandlers wedding 

    in malibu.

    everyone gets married in malibu. its pretty there.

    its sorta painted into the corner of la so you can get stuck there pretty easy if the one is jammed, but if you get stuck there youre lucky because theres no where else better to be in the world unless youre 90 minutes north or four hours south.

    i told my crew that i wasnt coming in today and my boss said i had to come in that my vacation was over, and i said, no sorry i need one more day cuz of adam sandlers wedding and he said you aint going to adam sandlers wedding and i said i swear. and then he said if adam sandlers so fancy whys he getting married on a monday and not a sunday or saturday.

    and i said that its cuz adam sandler is a romantic and he met his bride on this day several years ago and this year it just happened to fall on a monday.

    and he said that it sounded like bullshit to him.

    and i said im sorry that it sounded like bullshit to him but i had to go to malibu and i didnt want to go but it was adam sandler.

    and he said if you know adam sandler tell me one thing that is going on with him that i dont know about.

    and i said, he’s going to make another movie with drew barrymore very soon.

    he said, he is?

    i said, yes, of course he is. he is!

    he said, well thats pretty good.

    i said, yes it is.

    and then he let me go to adam sandlers wedding.

    and if i was allowed to bring a camera i woulda taken a super cute picture of karisa tearing up a bit when adam told his bride how much he loved her and how he would never let her have a sad day in her life.

    and then my boss found out that adam sandlers wedding was really on sunday and he told me that he wanted to see my ass first thing tuesday morning.

    so now im trying to find out where one rents a donkey in hollywood.

    its richard giles’s birthday + that broken valley girl + splink + bunnie

  4. the case of the extra baby 

    came to a spectacular ending this evening thanks to joint cooperation between the indio county sherrifs department and an undercover pair of superheroes who mysteriously found the infant and returned it to its billionaire parents in a tearful and emotional reunion.

    this is tony pierce reporting from hollywood.

    i didnt want to do it but i went back to the kinkos on highway 111 in palm desert even though they had charged me $24/hr for internet access.

    since it was the only copy shop for miles, i asked the proprieter if he had happened to see any missing baby fliers get copied or distributed. he said yes and pointed to his corkboard which was littered with lost and found, wanted, missing, and services rendered fliers and etc.

    and right in the middle was the good little girl who barely said a word other than elmo and do-do on a flier that said missing, reward.

    in palm springs is it necessary to put a price on a child, i thought?

    after i dialed the number i wondered how i could find out what the reward would have been if i actually wanted the money but i realized there would be no tactful way to ask and no tactful way to collect either.

    collecting on a runaway german shepard would be so much easier.

    fortunately i dont do hardly anything for the money. i do pretty much everything for the fun of it.

    and it was fun being with the little kid who we called Babita

    we learned that life is precious. That even if youve been around something for a year you still not be totally ready to understand it, even if your mind is free of useless details, facts, and memories.

    we learned that little kids spill their food a lot.

    we learned that little kids can fall off a couch really easilly and almost hit their head on the edge of a glass coffee table.

    but most of all we learned that palm springs really is a “short” two-hour drive from LA, and suprisingly comfortably warm – not hot – even at the begining of summer.

    heres a ten page photo dealie

    twixt + susan mernit + the joint + ashley goes to the charlies angels 2 premeire

  5. Sunday, June 22, 2003

    i forgot to tell you. yesterday we found a baby. 

    random things have been happening to me even before i was kidnapped out here, so a baby on my patio door, even one that sorta looks like me, didnt rattle me as much as it probably shoulda.

    rattled clippergirls cousin though, who proceeded to ask me a battery of serious questions starting with having me name all the girls i had sex with last year.

    i was all, who can remember these things?

    but secretly i was going through them in my head, silently.

    hmm there was that one, and oh yeah, that one.

    there was that virgin girl.

    i looked at the baby and saw a little bit of the virgin girl there, but then i said, wait a second, i saw that girl not long ago and she didnt say anything about any baby.

    then i said, hey now, if the baby’s one years old, we have to think about girls i had sex with like almost two years ago.

    and clipper girls cousin said, oh. then yeah. ok, think!

    and i thought and that was hard. but then it wasnt that hard, me and ashley had a good thing going back then and since i knew she had never gotten pregnant, mostly cuz we were super safe, i knew i was in the clear.

    but the cousin of the clippergirl wasnt so sure.

    then tell me why she looks like you?

    i said, people look like people all the time.

    then she said, then tell me why this baby who looks like you ended up on our secret vacation?

    i said, nothings secret. there are no secrets.

    she said, what about the secrets that you keep?

    i said, those are golden. some tales i will never tell, but i would never lie about having a cute little kid.

    the baby cooed.

    it was a good baby, it hardly ever cried.

    when it did cry we gave it food or water and when that didnt work we changed her diaper.

    pretty good kid.

    we almost forgot we had her until we heard her laughing in the middle of the night.

    today we’re going to have to find her real parents because we have to go back to la tonight.

    sadly.

    every seinfeld episode + wisdom goof + jennyeah audblogs jaime

  6. Saturday, June 21, 2003

    hi, im back in palm springs 

    where its dusty and windy and the hotties are sexy.

    but im having a bit of a moral dilemma.

    as you may know im a bit paranoid about going to heaven. i would really like to go. so i don’t want to do things that go against the good book, let alone the ten commandments.

    things written in stone hold a symbolic importance to my mind, for some reason.

    so the problem is i am here in our villa in palm desert . i have hooked up the directv which i drove back to la last night to retrieve and hooked up this morning just so i could watch game two of the cubs / sox interleague game at wrigley.

    but its not on wgn, and its not on my baseball package.

    the only game they want me to watch today is the dodgers / angels game.

    i don’t want to watch the dumb dodgers / angels game.

    i want to watch the dumb cubs / sox game.

    why have crosstown rivalry weekend if on saturday you wont let me, the directv major league baseball package subscriber, access to those games? i’d like to see all of them. especially the reds / indians game… oh wait, for some reason they’re not playing each other this weekend, even though the mets / yanks, rangers / astros, marlins / devil rays, dodgers / angels, and cubs / sox are… strangely the phillies and pirates aren’t playing each other this weekend either.

    see how screwed up everything is?

    now the dilemma comes in the form of a pirated Directv card which if slid into my receiver box would allow me, here in palm springs, to watch the local, blacked out, chicagoland tv station which is broadcasting this game only in and around chicago.

    my question is, is it stealing if you cant buy it for any price, and yet its in the air in your house?

    1. i would buy it.

    2. it’s not for sale.

    3. it’s in the air in my house.

    4. i thought this was the land of the free.

    5. i thought republicans wanted less government.

    6. i am now forced to “watch” it through Yahoo GameChannel like a common nerd.

    7. yes i brought my computer back to the villa after i dismantled my directv which isn’t at all nerdy.

    hey, libras + if i ever traveled across the usa i’d wanna stop by here, and see all of america’s twine balls.

  7. Friday, June 20, 2003

    while i was on vacation a lot of crazy ass shit went down 

    that the xbi may or may not have been involved in.

    there was a train wreck of a train coming out of palm springs to la.

    i discovered that my rental car cd player played mp3s.

    and i read this caption underneath the picture to the left, “Indian tribal girl Karnamoni Handsa, 9, looks at her husband, a two-year old dog named Bachchan, in Khanyan, 60 km (37 miles) northwest from Calcutta, state capital of the eastern Indian state of West Bengal June 19, 2003. “

    the good people of Khanyan wed the nine year old to the dog to ward off evil spirits, the caption told me.

    now, if you were an evil spirit, dont you think you’d feel at home in a town where two-year old dogs were getting married off

    to underaged girls?

    theyre both kids for god sake.

    i dont date married chicks, but could i say no to someone who had been hitched to a dog since she was nine?

    if i pet him would that mean i was gay?

    what if i took him for a walk?

    thats gay.

    its gotta be.

    i havent had a dog since i was a little kid, and back then we didnt have to pick up the dog doo, but i guess people have to nowadays – at least here in hollywood.

    so if i met some girl, and she was married to a dog, and me and him took a little walk, and i watched him poopie, and then i picked it up

    im home now.

    crazy ass shit really did go down here.

    best of all was the new blogger pro got implemented in my sector of the rockosphere.

    this is the first post ive made on it.

    i think it looks hot.

    on first post i see that the edit link is a the top, which is much more convenient. you dont have to scroll down all the way to the bottom of the post.

    old posts are accessible with drop-down menus now instead of the tedious back arrow: perfect when youre going back in your archives for old posts to republish when you go on vacation!

    it also just feels so much more sturdy.

    for example, and ive never even uttered this complaint to a soul. not even outloud, but when i wanted to highlight a word to link to a different site highlighting the word took equal parts luck and skill to get the whole word with no spaces in front or behind.

    now you can even highlight a single letter, or two letters in a word. not that i would be doing that very often. but maybe a hidden link or two in a long phrase might be fun sometimes.

    i also like that the “view blog” doesnt jump to a different window, you view it within the bottom half of the blogger window.

    is it really 1:24am?

    a sorority girl experiences snoop dogg live + gorilla mask + bettie girl

  8. Tuesday, November 12, 2002 

    ten fourty pee em backpack stuffed with bread, brie, two bottles of champagne, one brut one extra dry, he could never remember which one was better. he rides his bike to the subway. no one rides the subway at ten fourty pee em.

    the elevator smells like industrial orange cleanser. suddenly orange is the scent of freshness. some one has urinated against the glass wall. someone has scratched the name jed below the button that says mezzanine. some one is watching him.

    three people wait for the northbound train. one old man who looks at the tunnel hole willing it. not knowing that there is a wind that comes minutes before the subway, then a sound, then a light. theres nothing to look at. has the boy brought a condom? no. they’re just friends.

    friends.

    the thought sat like a lump in his breast. only good that word ever did him was in a heated scrabble game. seven letter triple score bitch. plus it would take about four bottles to blur the line of friendship. friends. the old man looked down in the tunnel and he’s old enough to remember la when this wasn’t the only rail in town what’s he looking for, salvation?

    a mexican made it four waiting for the train and he knew about the wind and sat down. its all about astrology he thought. gemini and aquarius. just like clue. parker brothers had taught him everything. if he knew it wasn’t in the library why did he keep going there.

    the train arrived he rode to her house. it was a tough ride since she lives on the top of a very high hill. it smelled like isla vista up there. eucalyptus and dynamite. gasoline and burned leaves. he put it in first gear. this was great exercise he thought and it would be fun to speed down late that night. which he did. two twenty a-em. drunk buzzed really santa anas warm, warmest night of the fall for sure. must be seventy. must be going fifty. no need to worry about rabbits darting in the road or acorns or potholes he was being guided by voices.

    her hair was soft and her lips were familiar. moreso than he remembered. every night felt like a dream so he traced her outline as she laid on him pressed down on her skin until he felt bone. eighth of an inch here. sixteenth there. he wasn’t much of a romantic. he said if we had to eat you after a plane crash we wouldn’t get much meat. she said the meat is the muscle and put his hand on, muscle.

    must have been going sixty near the bottom of the mountain. hollywood hills meets hollywood blvd. night crew mopping the popeyes. people buying magazines. people leaving bars. people dressed real nice. he had his gangsta flannel flapping behind him no lights no brakes, a game he played since a little kid called lets see how far we can coast. the lazy mans game of human curling.

    pink floyd plays in his ninety nine cents store fm radio. no dial just two buttons. one scanned in the stations, one you push for the next station. is anyone out there. the wall. when he was an ice cream man he would play dark side and animals to drown out the ice cream truck tings and tangs but it bled through mixing like strawberry twirl and carmel. she had silky hair that smelled of a fresh shower. velvet pajama pants and pale skin. he wanted to touch everything like in an x dream and she didn’t care. only he was scared. she felt so comfortable with him she said often and is that failure asked his head.

    thirty five whispered the wind as he turned left on sunset. go east old man. ameoba records says hi. archlight movies says hi. give us your money says the dennys the dirtiest dennys of all. now the game is called count the hookers. okay one two. three. no shes not one. oops, yes he is. four five. two people are fighting on a fire escape while one watches. not fight fighting fist fighting is one a girl don’t look keep going. hi ninety nine cents store hi tulips strip joint. i wonder if its open i wonder what the cop car is doing empty not too close to the door but not tooooo far away. i wonder what it looks like in there in seedy hollywood on a monday night at two something a-em.

    donuts. okay we’ll stop here. don’t get off the bike. three russians parked sitting on their hoods talking russian. laughing. plotting. planning. hating. hi russians with your blue eyes and short hair. everyone is welcome here. donut man asks if i want coffee. do you have eclairs with creme? of course. sixty five cents. thanks keep the change. tip everyone the brain says. over tip those you should tip and tip the ones you shouldn’t. later he’d be robbed.

    again.

    nine, ten, eleven. that one has a shelf butt. how does she do that? that shelf is out so far its about to fall out.

    two bums playing throw the screwdriver at the palm tree. hi.

    hi trash making its way home. hi fallen leaves. hi everything. hi

    tony making his way home down the hill next to the church coasting feeling like a kid again as he normally does with his very good friend who asked him to call her when he made it through the jungle back home 2.6 miles all downhill all one big thrill and when he does his phone rings and its another friend who had a date and wanted to let him know how it went.

    hi three am. and he wonders who had a better night than he

  9. Friday, February 15, 2002 


    hot black chick walked down the stairs at the wilshire/vermont station past the cops who smiled a hello and she smiled one back.

    when she reached the bottom of the stairs the train arrived and she got on the car next to the driver, like i did.

    we left the station and approached the next stop and before we did the driver announced on the PA, “Next stop, Wilshire and Normandie.”

    hot black chick yelled, “nobody asked you.”

    driver replied on the PA, “i know.”

    we stopped, at the station for a few seconds, there was a series of beeps, the doors shut, the train pulled away, gained momentum and we were on to our last stop.

    the driver announced, “next stop, Wilshire and Western.”

    hot black chick yelled, “hurry up, then.”

    the train conductors always ease into the Wilshire/Western station because there are many intersecting tracks there since it is the end of the line.

    driver announced as we slowed up, “this is the final destination, please make sure you have gathered all of your personal belongings.”

    then there was a pause.

    then he said, “and please, have a good day.”

    then he added, “except for certain people.”

    we stopped, she got off the train, strutted past the driver’s car, realised she was going to have to walk up stairs if she continued down that direction, turned around, right past me and headed towards the elevator.

    i noticed that her super tight black tshirt said, “Cute.” but it was written in a type of cursive that wasn’t easy to read, so you were forced to decide whether you were going to read her shirt or check out her d-cups.

    it was quite a decision.

    i walked up the stairs and considered it my morning workout.

    made it to the 720 bus, there were three of them waiting for us. i got on the first one that was half-full. the other two were mostly empty but Lord only knows when they would leave that stop. i sat in the back with a talkative older black gentleman and two mexicans who were speaking spanish to each other.

    to my surprise, hot black chick got on my bus. she dug through her little purse for change and as she did the big fat black lady busdriver said, “good morning everyone. happy day after valentine’s day.” and waved at us behind her moving only her fingers. i cant explain it.

    hot black chick made her way all the way to the back. the mexicans locked on to her immediately as did the black guy. when she eyed an empty seat near him, he couldnt hold it in any more.

    “Got Damn, girl!”

    she had tight red pants on, heels, hair done right, ruby red lipstick, very dark black skin, enough attitude for several busses of commuters.

    the mexicans spoke spanish and the black guy kept talking to no one in particular. i pretended to be engrossed with my Bukowski poems.

    “You know something, fellas,” the black guy said, “that is a booty right there. that is a beautiful black booty. mercy. people say black ass like that is an acquired tastes, and i agree.”

    my stop was coming up.

    “once you acquire that shit, you never lose your taste for it.”

    then he laughed through his smile and it sounded like a hiss, but everyone smiled.

    the mexicans did their mexican handshake ending with the knuckle punch and one of them dug into his backpack and retrived a tupperware cube containing his buddy’s lunch. and he and i exited through the back door and began our days.

  10. Thursday, June 19, 2003

    dear undercover xbi agents who edit this page, 

    let me begin by telling you thank you so very much for all that you do. without you im nothing.

    im nothing with you either, but without you not only am i nothing but this blog would be a gigantico mess.

    you dont even want to know where i am blogging from tonight or how.

    quite frankly im ashamed.

    what im doing tonight in coachella california to spread good news to all of you is immoral, illegal, inappropriate and somewhat disgusting. in fact what i will have to do later to a gaggle of barely legal dairy queen employees is just plain wrong.

    what im blogging on cant even allow me to right-click, so therefore i cant even add a picture to this post, so please, sweet editors, add a nice picture up in this piece. make it a picture of karisa if you can find one because lots of the boys have been asking for that and i aims to please.

    my shoulders are hurting writing the way i have to write right now so sorry if this comes across not as long as i would like it to be.

    anyways, hi people of the world. i miss you.

    ive been driving across this desert all night looking for a different kinkos than the one that robbed me last night but i had no luck. palm springs is beautiful and their trees are well lit and every fancy community has gates and a security kiosk but no one has 24 hour internet and fortunately i had a nice driving companion who kept her hand in my lap the whole way so even though i was frustrated i wasnt totally pissed.

    i dont get totally pissed all that often, but the last few weeks ive been testy to say the least.

    i think i just need a change.

    a big change.

    even a little change would be nice and i thought this vacation would be it but its not.

    palm springs isnt far enough from LA to ease ones mind and ive got a lot to ease.

    plus, and she’ll hate me for saying this, but i could use a steady gurl. clippergirls cousin is sweet but shes not it. ive been around the block enough to know and i know and shes not it.

    tonight we ate at pf changs and it was deeeee-lish.

    the restaurants out here have misters to add a little refreshment to the atmosphere and its welcomed.

    pf was packed tonight and the food was great and the waitress was awesome and everyone had a great time especially me because i always end up there with the best people and that makes me feel so lucky.

    note to self: youre the luckest man alive. enjoy it.

    tomorrow i will golf and shop and ride around with the top down and i might even head back to hollywood

    and i might not.

    so anyway, xbi agents, if you would, could you please post three classic busblog posts tomorrow and then a caption this please for the kids before 1pm pst.

    if you cant i totally understand but i dont have a computer and i dont have innnernet access and i have a feeling i wont even wake up tomorrow until 2pm so please help the busblog since i cant.

    my love to all of you.

    your pal,

    tony