1. Sunday, May 20, 2007

    the people in my secret life ask 

    why i dont talk about my secret life and i said ah man its probably cuz i dont talk about any of my lives.

    so heres my life. wake up, shower, make the coffee, drive to work, sit down, read the email, answer the urgent ones, forget about some of the not so urgent ones, find out some of those were more urgent than normal, go to the kitchen to see if any hot girls are there, get an orange juice outta the machine, go back to the desk, look at the clock, hate life.

    then i have the secret life. fly to work. get briefed on the weather conditions. find out what They did last night. decide whose life to ruin. see if theres anything chocolate in the machine. wait for chopper one to get ready. exchange dirty jokes with maintenance. save the world. fly home. pray for forgiveness.

    and then i have the current busblog life. wake up whenever. blog like crazy. smoke like crazy. drink like crazy. go whereever. kiss girls. go to sleep whenever. watch the hits of LAist soar. watch the hits of the busblog sink.

    pretty little girl was over here the other night playing with the gray in my chesthair. in these days of dateline i probably shouldnt call her a pretty little girl so lets call her a dirty young woman dressed like a teenage runaway.

    she asked whos your girl on the wall?

    my bedroom wall has many pictures, so i asked, which one are you talking about? and played with her imaginary chest hair.

    she said, when i was in high school and i had a boyfriend he would put my picture on his wall. so wheres your girl on your wall?

    and i said baby i could make a joke about how i do have the means to have you velcroed on that wall in a matter of minutes but im tired out, cuz im old, and you are not. so i will answer your question.

    when youre hiking through the hills on acid over a long weekend

    and youre drinking water right out of a bubbling brook

    and youre eating fish that you scared into the shallow part and then grabbed with your bare hands

    cooked by stewardesses who wouldnt agree to topless hiking because they said theyd get sunburn on their nipples

    so hiked bottomless with you.

    on the third day you dont wake up with the sunrise and say, this trip would have been so much better if we all had ice cream right now.

    what you do is

    roll over and think about how smart you were to bring extra brownies.

    a gay guy relates the dodgers to his exboyfriend + this was on digg on saturday + single jew girl