one of the nice things about living in hollywood

is that theres people from all over the world here. which means theres food from all over the world.

the food that im most fascinated by currently is philippine food. specifically hollywood philippine food.

usually i get tricked into one of these magical places because from the outside they look like $1 per item Chinese places in that they have the buffet style pans of crap with the heat lamps drying everything out, a crazy woman sitting on a stool waiting to serve you, and a mexican chap in the back with an apron listening to the clipper game on the radio.

i like philippine places like this because its almost like an adult lemonade stand: people just can believe that youre buying something from them, and when you do they always smile and smile and sometimes they’ll even shake your hand.

today they told me that i was parked in a red zone.

i was all, its karisas car, if she doesnt get a ticket a week the dmv will worry that shes dead.

one thing you can count on in philippine restaurants like this is you wont be able to recognize a damn thing other than the fried rice. call me nuts, but i like that. and youre bound to see a tray with an entire fish or two laying there with a slice of onion on it or a wedge of lemon or something unbelievably random like a hunk of sweet potato or some shit.

your best bet is not to ask what things are, it’ll just terrify you.

is that deep fried?

yes, its turtle.


today i got little squares of beef with swirls of onions, fried rice, and little cubes of pork with sweet sauce on it.

i think.

they were all very nice and it cost me less than four dollars.

tonight last nights girl wants me to come back over to spend the night again. apparently whatever it was that i did deserves an encore.

am i gay if i just want to stay home tonight, watch the lakers, and work on this novel?

if you saw this babe youd say yes tony, youre gay. and then youd step on my toe.

i went over there yesterday primarily to see her, of course, but also to do my laundry. besides being beautiful shes also very rich and has a washer and a dryer back by her poolhouse. but i only got one load done, and that one barely, so this morning i had to leave my stuff at her place and go to work.

have you noticed that my job really gets in the way of my life?

smart as this girl is, i dont think she understands that im not the kickass writer that she thinks i am. i just cant sit in her den and knock out pages for the novel with a snap of the fingers.

i need all my stuff around me.

i need the stereo on with the right music. i need the tv on. i need a few virgins fumbling with their restraints wondering if they will be sacrificed that night. i need my diet dr pepper because i probably am gay.

i need my thinking cap. i need my special rum. i need my munchies. and i need to be focused.

and there is nothing about this hot young woman that allows me to be focused on anything other than her.

i have to shower now and head on over there.

heres some kickass flash movies that i found thanks to aaron, eric, and viral planet

the end of the world + themeatrix + boohbah

dear bill gates,

let me write your blog.

richest man in the world and no one really knows anything about you.

i know you wrote a book, but who reads books any more? i sure as hell dont.

i read blogs. i think everyone reads blogs nowadays. everyone i know at least.

heres what we do. i move up to seattle. either i can live in that crazy huge house of yours or you hook me up with something downtown. then every day i get to shadow you and i write about it.

if shit goes over my head i’ll say so.

11:45am, im sitting in the east campus and im in a meeting with bill and mohammed and opal and jerry, shits really going over my head but bill just cracked this super funny joke that i think he stole off futurama.

maybe you dont remember me, but i used to work for you very briefly. i was an outsourced employee for webtv and then when you guys bought webtv, i was an outsourced employee for msft. maybe you saw me at comdex. i was the guy right next to the porsche telling all the cameras about the new webtv plus.

5:09 pm, i challenge bill to three shots of 151, he talks me down to two cuz he claims he has to drive home. i remind him that one of the interns can drive us both home. so he says yes to two shots of 151 and a half a beer. we end up talking about the portland trailblazers and laugh and laugh and laugh. hes got a funny laugh.

sure i want to know about how smart you are, cuz i dont really really believe that youre as smart as you were lucky. but you did hold on to your head start so maybe you are smart, or maybe you got the smart people to work for you. and if you are that smart, i want people to know that the smart people can end up successful, cuz thats not how it always is.

and if youre lucky i want to go to vegas with you and find out how lucky you really are.

7:20pm, still drinking. we’ve sent out for cough medicine. bill says hes never had a flaming moe. i called him a liar and he took off his glasses and said right here! and dared me to a brawl. i think he meant it. i made a fist and three robots shot me with paralyzing darts and i froze for three seconds. he stepped aside and three totally different robots shot me with unparalyzing darts and i was able to complete my punch, missing, and fell on my face to a chorus of hoots and hollers. gotta admit, it was pretty awesome.

bill gets me a screwdriver and reminds me that hes the fucking man, tosses a peanut into the air and it nearly chips a tooth.

one thing i dont want to write about is money. money is the red herring in your life. its the fakeout. and im not interested. im far more intrigued by you as a person. someone who has great pressures, and a strange little monopoly that everyone likes to bitch about but no one is courageous enough to defect from.

i want to tell people about some of the cool projects coming down the pipeline. i want to tell people and show people that youre a real man with real issues and real concerns and real headaches.

being famous and powerful and smart and still pretty young and at the forefront of the biggest thing in this new millenium has Got to be trippy as all hell.

it needs to be blogged.

and that job would be worth it for me to leave the comfort of southern cal to go do.

but only for a year.

and if it turns into a book, i would want all the money to go to charity.

your pal,


makeout city + flagrant + vodka pundit

best laid plans, my friends.

let me give you a little tip about life, boys. dont tell a girl who likes having sex with you — a lot — that youre going to sleep over at her house and not have sex with her.

dont believe her when she says shes on the rag.

dont bring over your laundry, dont drink her wine, dont let her turn up the heat, dont dare her to wear something sexy, dont tell her that her lips look good shining in the candlelight, dont think that her roommate not being around doenst mean anything

and dont think that youre not going to get any even though youre trying to stay pent up for the dumbest novel ever.

and after she pulls out every secret weapon, dont hit the control > C buttons on her G4 so as to copy your sex book chapter post into your novel before you hit post+publish

because macintosh sux and control > C apparently means “take this chapter and dispose of it motherfucker… forever.”

and here i used to like apple.

and here i thought it would be ok to write anywhere else other than in chopper one or the friendly confines of my walk-in closet at my bachelor pad. but oh i was wrong.

so wrong.

im wrong about everything.

thats the main reason i put the disclaimer up there a long time ago, and why i dont preach on sundays, and why i dont manage the cubs.

id be doubling stealing all the time, telling people the bible says you can smoke weed, and thinking i can blog from just any old damn where.

i dont know shit.

thats why the big wigs dont hire my black ass. they know.

showed the novel to the temptress last night.

she said it was poetry.

maybe thats why its taking so f’ing long.

i havent written a poem in forever.

the cub reporter lost his house in the fire + the southpaw + drop stones