1. Monday, January 10, 2005

    hot chick took me to brunch on saturday. 

    i had partied all friday night with sk smith and rep hilldale (d-tx), and that night i went to the baby shower. meaning for an alleged recluse ive sure been out of my house a lot.

    many conversations lately have turned to ads on blog and why dont i have any. when pressed i can only answer that i dont know why i dont have them, theyre just lame or something.

    while eating eggs benedict at the four seasons – jacket req’d – the jessica alba lookalike said you make so little money at the xbi, what if you could support yourself just off your ads?

    i said, i might be able to do that now.

    she said, well, doesnt having your career in the hands of the xbi scare you?

    and i thought, when did i start dating smart again? please pass the parkay, dear.

    so this morning i was standing in the rain waiting for the bus. the busses were late because even though they trudge slowly down wilshire on the sunniest of days, for some reason in the rain they find a way to creep even slower.

    and the trains, as you know, despite being miles under this fair city, slither at a snails pace, meaning i was late for the xbi.

    the biggest no-no of all.

    and i dont mind being wet. or cold. or splashed at by koreatown drivers.

    but i thought about my date this weekend and what a nice car she drove and how much of a fucking bum i felt like

    and then the rain really started to come down. no umbrella was going to block it. punishment for the poor.

    my thoughts went back to our brunch and how lame my excuse sounded even to my own ears when i said

    i dont know, im keeping it real

    (she had asked why i couldnt take just a few ads to pay the car payment.)

    her response: only the poor say things like that.

    she was right.

    but she wasnt finished. she said, they say that to feel better about their situation.

    i touched her ankle with my sneaker, she blushed. footsies are so underrated. especially in swanky places on second dates.

    especially as a device to get the ho sweet lass to shut her trap.

    and the first bus arrived. packed. of course. thats what late busses do. they fill up with the wet folks who steam up the windows and stand so close to each other in their wet clothes that you may as well not even have a raincoat.

    and the second bus arrived and everyone ran to it, umbrella points ignorantly stabbing whoever is behind them, which is everyone.

    and the third bus arrived. not so packed, but no seats.

    and i thought, but doc searls doesnt have any ads

    and the mexican guy locking his dripping duct taped ten speed to the bus’s bike rack says in spanish when you have a hilltop home in santa barbara you can stop having ads on your blog

    and i thought, but jeff jarvis doesnt have any ads

    and the old black man in his polyester security guard uniform said, when you create the new Entertainment Weekly, and have a times square office, you can pull the ads from your blog too.

    and the bus ran out of gas, or menthol, or whatever they use these days, about a mile from my work

    and the arcade fire played on my ipod

    and i thought thank god my readers dont give a shit about ads on the busblog – and they probably would prefer them to me asking them for their hard earned cash.

    let the corporations pay, they’d probably say.

    and its dark in hollywood today.

    real dark.

    oak park mastermind + buzzmachine + ed adkins