1. Tuesday, July 1, 2003

    momma ran off with a trucker, 

    momma ran off with a trucker, momma ran off with a trucker. peterbuilt. peterbuilt.

    ive been rocking out to the drive-by truckers and if it wasnt for the kids who turn me on to the good tunes, i dont know what i would do.

    the kids have it all. they know it all. they know most, i guess, the rest they get out of me by poking a straw into my head and sucking it out like an orange julius.

    they barage me with IMs when im trying to write, and thats nice.

    i dont know why i even log on to aim anymore cuz the cute gurls just tease and i have no true loves out there any more and i didnt realize that until last night when one of the teens was interviewing me for their gangblog.

    tony, i cant even believe youre letting me interview you this is so friggin cool! they’ll type and that makes me happy cuz secretly i cant believe they want to interview me.

    so tell us, boxers or briefs?


    all they ever want to talk about are hits and sex. im the one who has to ask about music and whats it like to be a highschooler with dsl. can you imagine? there was a whole generation who actually had the internet in highschool but couldnt use it cuz it was tying up the phone line.

    then a question came out that caught me off gaurd. actually it wasnt the question, it was the answer that stunned me.

    when was the last time you got some?

    and i looked at my FHM calander that i was about to flip over. this month Ashanti was checking me out and i flipped it back a month and then another month and i thought, could it be true? here it was July first and i had been shut out not only all of june but all of may too?

    two months!

    the gasp heard across the broadband was astonishing.

    nothing in this interview is true, right?

    i told the kid that i only bs in the blog and we were all a little crushed that i — two months!?

    what had i done wrong?

    and the astrology? why hadnt brezney warned me about the oncoming draught.

    what sort of free astrologer was he pretending to be anyhow?

    not even a bj? the fresh faced high schooler asked.

    and i love the planet that the kids of america live on. the one that i need to visit one day where the girls will meet you half way with oral copulation as if it were a goodnight hug of somesort. i need directions to that world for it is a loving one. although it probably would give me the creeps. i mean, is that how they tip the pizzaman?

    no, nothing i typed. i dont even think i felt a girl up last month i told the lad.


    then i had to think about if i had even felt up a girl in june. damn memory. damn memento. damn xbi fucking up the program.


    i felt up an ex girlfriend a few times the second to last time we hung out, but that was for different reasons. purely experimental. a science project was due.

    but youre tony pierce.

    and thats when i was able to see the drought for what it was. a way for this particular young man to see that even if he grew up to be a world reknown blogger there would be certain months when



    and i wish he had just typed in what i bet he was thinking,

    so youre just as lame and pathetic as me?

    to which i would have said yes

    as the phone rang


    back from her vacation.


    wanting to either fuck or fight.

    which is why i let that bad boy ring.

    doc searls + internet pundit fantasy camp + buzznet live from wimbeldon