1. Friday, October 1, 2004

    i was so nervous going into this meeting today 

    because i was perfect for the job.

    i dont mean that in a dreamy way or a wishful way like “i would be so good for paris hilton.”

    and im objective. i know im not the best pilot for chopper one. and thats the irony. all these people from the president of the united states to the host of the tonight show to the singer of van halen to jennifer garners boyfriend are all the wrong people for the job.

    when i applied to work for the xbi i wasnt nervous because i knew i didnt really even want the thing.

    this thing today i wanted and i was perfect for and i ate two tums before i got in there because i had everything to lose.

    afterward my buddy was driving me to work and i told him that i didnt think that the people understood one single word that i was saying

    and he said tony you fucking interviewed october this morning, unless dweezil zappa was in that room passing the bong to wonkette youre not getting the job.

    i let that image sit with me for a minute.

    and he said, you made up the word smorgasborgias.

    and i agreed, i had.

    i deserve nothing.

    i thought about how in both interviews with two different companys, i was asked right away why i didnt have ads on my blog.

    and when i told them that 1) i didnt need ads to generate money, i just asked my readers straight up to paypal me 2) unless you yourself are the middleman, fuck the middleman 3)despite my disclaimer of “nothing in here is true”, i wanted people to believe what i had to say, and ads, i believe Could infringe on that credibility because there’s something noble about someone who is doing something for pure love – they pretty much said bullshit.

    and then i told them about the ipod you got me, and the trip to aruba and i think they didnt know what they were looking at.

    i felt like henry ford showing the amish the model a.

    but we have these nice horses

    but this car is fucking rad

    but you would have to build roads, and refine oil, and fix it when its broken, and insure people, and create parking lots, and there will be traffic

    all true, yes, but it’s a car and it’s time to have cars now.

    and all day i was walking around in this weird little haze thinking “but if i wrote a great proposal, a thick one, full of great stats, proofs, theories, then they would suddenly get it and let me blog for them.”

    and tonight i started feeling better all of a sudden, and i tried to figure out why.

    and it was because i knew i wasnt going to write down the secrets of three years of blogging during my two 15-minute breaks and give it to them for nothing.

    a document of great value.

    carpal tunnel, sweat, and tears.

    if i was just going to give it away i would give it to playboy, who could totally benefit from a blog

    and me writing it.

    flagrant in thailand + 6 falsehoods bush delivered last night via isou + you forgot poland