busblog

nothing in here is true

  1. Friday, April 29, 2005

    im not sure if you know it or not but 

    nothing in this blog is true.

    which of course means some of this blog is true.

    its tricky because lets say about once a week you get to make out with a cute little australian girl who bites your neck so hard you feel like a pussy saying ow. and lets say she doesnt understand why you dont want to be committed right now this second, and to be honest you dont understand it yourself either. so lets say that you want to write a little something about her, instead of saying hey i was hang gliding with this hot austrailian girl yesterday and the funniest thing happened, you might say, i was playing footsies with the swedish virgin in her best friends hot tub yesterday during lunch and

    you have to mix it up.

    the tricky part is when some really funny story gets into your head that is truly fiction and the swedish girl i mean austrailian girl and you are pretty much exclusive, but you want to talk about an entirely different girl, the first thing you have to do is email her and say baby nothing in my shit is true so dont freak out.

    its tricky cuz what if you forget to email her and she blows a gasket all over you as youre trying to fly over the 405 in chopper one because some seriously nasty shit is about to go down on the dark side of town.

    but whats the trickiest is when you really want to write something but you literally got stabbed in the back and you should not be sitting at the computer you should be resting. because nobody really believes that you work for the xbi and therefore certainly doesnt believe that its possible to get stabbed in the back by some dirty teenage gangmember who doesnt know who the fuck hes stabbing and doesnt know that it isnt a little game that we play in the streets of LA its a job and its mixed with a healthy dose of vengence on our part and a healthier dose of amateurism and ignorance on their part, that if you even squeeze your fist into a ball at an xbi agent you will suffer the agonies of the ancients. and not the refined ones.

    so basically if you get stabbed and youre not supposed to type at the computer you just say that you have carpal tunnel and you copy and paste some old shit or you copy and paste something that someone else wrote or you do the week in rock a day early so as to have something up for the kids.

    well today is friday and i cant even do a today in rock in la cuz i did it yesterday so instead i will copy and paste something that my favorite baseball analyist aaron gleeman wrote about me today.

    when i was younger i was as sick about baseball as aaron is now, except he has taken it to a level that i had only dreampt about, he understands all the newjack stats and because of the interweb he can keep up with minor leaguers and game notes around the league and he absorbs that shit and brings it right back into his blog.

    today aaron doles out some links around the blogosphere and says this about me which is great because i really shouldnt be typing today due to my… carpal.

    One of the things that discourages me most about the world is when extremely passionate and talented people have major roadblocks thrown in front of their dreams because someone else fails to recognize their unique gifts. This relates to baseball in some ways (remember that whole “Free Johan Santana!” thing?), but in this case I’m talking about one of my favorite non-sports bloggers being denied admission to a writing program at the University of California, Irvine.

    It is really sad in general when someone isn’t able to do something they want and deserve to do. But in a case like this, the worst thing is that an amazingly talented person may let some self-doubt creep into their mind simply because someone in a position of power wasn’t able to spot that talent. I am of the opinion that every person who is to become successful at what they dream of doing has to have at least one other person or group of people as a chip on their shoulder once they get there.

    In other words, it hurts like hell now, but think about how great it’ll be in 20 years when a wildly successful and famous Tony Pierce can tell his millions of adoring fans about the time he got rejected from U-C Irvine. Everyone will laugh, and he’ll smile. And then when he goes home to his penthouse apartment filled with leggy blondes watching the Lakers on a big-screen plasma TV, he’ll take out that rejection letter from a box somewhere and have a nice, long, motivating look at it.

    thanks pallie. win twins. but im sure if i ever make it, that rejection letter will be framed in my den to remind me that i wasnt always all that.

    speaking of rejects, today is the 22nd anniversary of the time that cubs manager lee elia told all the fans of chicago that since the cubs played all daygames that anyone who regularily attended cubs games and then “ripped” the manager every time he did something were obviously unemployed losers.

    which means that tomorrow will be the 22nd anniversary of the time that me and my buddies todd keef and bob went to wrigley field got bleacher tickets for $3 just so we could tell lee elia what his mommas cooch smelled like, and so on.

    so here in all its glory is lee elia:

    “Fuck those fuckin’ fans who come out here and say they’re Cub fans that are supposed to be behind you rippin’ every fuckin’ thing you do. I’ll tell you one fuckin’ thing, I hope we get fuckin’ hotter than shit, just to stuff it up them 3,000 fuckin’ people that show up every fuckin’ day, because if they’re the real Chicago fuckin’ fans, they can kiss my fuckin’ ass right downtown and PRINT IT.

    “They’re really, really behind you around here… my fuckin’ ass. What the fuck am I supposed to do, go out there and let my fuckin’ players get destroyed every day and be quiet about it? For the fuckin’ nickel-dime people who turn up? The motherfuckers don’t even work. That’s why they’re out at the fuckin’ game. They oughta go out and get a fuckin’ job and find out what it’s like to go out and earn a fuckin’ living. Eighty-five percent of the fuckin’ world is working. The other fifteen percent come out here. A fuckin’ playground for the cocksuckers. Rip them motherfuckers. Rip them fuckin’ cocksuckers like the fuckin’ players. we got guys bustin’ their fuckin’ ass, and them fuckin’ people boo. And that’s the Cubs? My players get around here. I haven’t seen it this fuckin’ year. Everybody associated with this organization have been winners their whole fuckin’ life. Everybody. And the credit is not given in that respect.

    “Alright, they don’t show because we’re 5 and 14… and unfortunately, that’s the criteria of them dumb 15 motherfuckin’ percent that come out to day baseball. The other 85 percent are earning a living. I tell you, it’ll take more than a 5 and 12 or 5 and 14 to destroy the makeup of this club. I guarantee you that. There’s some fuckin’ pros out there that wanna win. But you’re stuck in a fuckin’ stigma of the fuckin’ Dodgers and the Phillies and the Cardinals and all that cheap shit. It’s unbelievable. It really is. It’s a disheartening fuckin’ situation that we’re in right now. Anybody who was associated with the Cub organization four or five years ago that came back and sees the multitude of progress that’s been made will understand that if they’re baseball people, that 5 and 14 doesn’t negate all that work. We got 143 fuckin’ games left.

    “What I’m tryin’ to say is don’t rip them fuckin’ guys out there. Rip me. If you wanna rip somebody, rip my fuckin’ ass. But don’t rip them fuckin’ guys ’cause they’re givin’ everything they can give. And right now they’re tryin’ to do more than God gave ’em, and that’s why we make the simple mistakes. That’s exactly why.”

    the audio of mr elia + aaron gleeman + the hardball times

  2. Tuesday, January 11, 2005

    next to me and drew 

    gwen stefani in hot water

    ashleys favorite person in the world is ms gwen stefani.

    meaning that when ashley was dating me we went to hella no doubt concerts.

    which isnt so bad, deep down.

    if you dont pay too much attention to the music, its not bad. i mean you have gwen up there wearing close to nothing, then you have all these cute young gurls dancing around dressed like her, and then theres ashley orgasming basically during and after each song.

    the no doubt fans can be a little obsessive. but nothing is sadder than a dude nd fanatic. those i tried to stay away from. but they knew the angle. it was the same as mine: be there – you will get hugged and kissed by all the chicks who are in ecstacy.

    once we saw no doubt for free at this little theatre in westwood. the wadsworth theatre. it was for a taping of a “concert” that they were doing on abc family.

    we were as close to the stage as your screen is to you right now.

    i was all, gwen looks a little chubby.

    i was kidding but she did have a tiny belly.

    that was the beginging of the Rock Steady tour.

    a year and a half later we were at the long beach arena. one of the last shows of the tour and that cute little ponch was gone.

    now, if you ask me, shes a little too skinny.

    gwen too.

    thus ends the ashley* princess birthday day special three way busblog tribute.

    if you read this today ashley i hope you have a happy birthday and i hope this blog will make you smile.

    i loved being your boo for all those years.

    its been great to watch you grow up both in person and in pictures.

    i know you think i hate you and dont think about you and dont want to get with you but none of the above is true.

    youre very special to me, even if youre not with me physically.

    i called your work today at the state department and told the lady to leave a little post-it on your office door that says tony says happy birthday.

    and i called your sister in vegas just incase you were there for the tail end of the porn awards scoring some schwag for me for my birthday.

    much love and busblog kisses.

    ashley self portrait + god she was young + ashleys photoshop skillz in full effect

  3. Friday, November 26, 2004

    anna’s coming over. 

    we’re going to sort through the nominations.

    she said, want me to pick up anything on the way? have you eaten?

    i was all, oh man, get a bucket and some mashed potatoes at kfc.

    but she hates the smell of kfc so shes about to pick me up so i can go in and get the finest american delicacy next to blonde immigrants.

    and today i have to tip my hat to all the americans who have to work today.

    thank you.

    why is it that im more thankful the day after thanksgiving than on thanksgiving?

    but im very grateful that there are people who are all, yeah, sucks, but lets go.

    for many years i sold retail electronics and today is the superbowl for commission salespeople.

    by now, 2pm, heres hoping that youve already broken crazy records.

    on a great day people are waiting for you to help them. on a great day the sales are just one after another. everythings smooth. everythings in stock. everything is perfect for the person and they get it and they pay quick and theyre out.

    one day after thanksgiving at sears we had this four head hifi vcr for $288 that paid us 8%. $20 a pop.

    at one point it got a little slow, so i took a stack of them off the floor and into the back room and five minutes later i rolled them right next to the big screens and said, “look! i found the last ten!”

    and then they were gone.

    right now im listening to the new gwen stefani record.

    it fluctuates between being a super annoying cd into pretty good.

    “Luxurious” is my favorite jam. a ripoff of biggie smalls and dr. dre. the type of song that i expected when i heard that gwen was putting out her first solo record.

    this is the sort of slowjam that was so successful when she dueted with eve back in the day.

    unfortunately she dabbles far too much in cheesy 80s synth crap and panders to euro and asian pop sensibilities best left in the alley behind the roxbury – not coming from the hottest chick in showbiz.

    for the first time ever it makes you really appreciate no doubt records and their goofy guitar player who writes all the songs.

    hes painfully missing from this collection.

    there are parts of the 80s that were miserable. mrs rossdale found every single one and put a lot of them in “The Real One”.

    whats good about the new gwen stefani record is it makes the new u2 record not suck so much.

    ray guarrd + flagrant + who said ev could go to europe?

  4. Sunday, December 1, 2002

    friday night me and ashley went to see no doubt 

    ashley no doubt rock steadythey were really incredible.

    about an hour before the show she and i broke up for the tenth and final time. only in my world could you break up with me and then go to a concert, dance close for two hours, and then get taken home and get a nice kiss goodnight and go to sleep alone.

    it was a long drive from irvine to hollywood in the wee hours and even though it was nice to borrow chris’s car, i had forgotten how miserable it is to drive at night when you’d rather be sleeping.

    somewhere on the 710 freeway my cell phone rang and it was anna calling.

    what are you doing? she asked.

    being sad, i said.

    why are you sad?

    cuz i probably wont be with ashley in that superclose way any more.

    anna changed the subject real fast like. she hates sad stories.

    she told me about this movie she saw at the art house, about how great her thanksgiving was, how much she ate, about how pretty the skies were over miami that night.

    when are you going to visit me, tony?

    never.

    stop that, i’ll send you a plane ticket.

    no thanks.

    i was thinking how i might have to take a little respite from girls for a little while and just work on reading the good book, or writing some bad books, or something. 2002 i had more than my fair share of amazing women. probably more than in any other year of my life.

    and here i am at the tail end of it and what have i learned?

    lust is blind.

    women are kind.

    control is an illusion.

    laughing is the best foreplay.

    bodies are just bodies, the most important thing is heart.

    sex is overrated.

    good sex is underrated.

    great sex cannot be created, it’s magic sent down from above like a rainstorm when you least expect it.

    likewise, true love can’t be found, it creeps up on you like a theif in the night.

    anna didnt want to hear any of this because in truth we had never done it.

    she did a few things on the phone one night but it might have been my imagination.

    ive got a pretty good imagination.

    still, i think she was doing something.

    that night i said, what are you doing?

    she said, nothing.

    i said, put the phone down there, i think youre doing something.

    she said, shuttup.

    last night at the show there were girls of all ages but the prettiest one, next to my date, was ms. gwen stefani who is probably the most beautiful woman to ever take the stage and rock the mic. she was gorgeous and glamorus and naughty and foul mouthed and pretty much everything you could imagine.

    if it wasnt for ashley i would have just written off that band as a nothing pop band for kids, but no doubt last night at the long beach arena were intense, excellent, and sexy.

    definately magic was happening on that stage.

    and this afternoon as my ears were still ringing, i looked at my little polaroid of ashley and touched it and thanked her for turning me on to them.

  5. Monday, November 25, 2002

    no doubt is in town so you’d think ashley would be happy 

    but shes not happy unless im with her.

    and sometimes i look in the mirror and when i do i dont see anyone who you’d be depressed not to be around.

    ashley loves attention and normally i dont mind letting our favorite twenty year old princess steal my eyes away from you, beloved computer screen, but this weekend i had to work on some projects and root on the bears and the raiders, who both won, and clean my apartment, and fight crime, and be stinky, and not shave, and read the good book, and read some bad books, and water the plants, and, you know, be a dude.

    im 109 years old and i have never had to tell a girl i needed my space, but this weekend i did. it felt weird. not as weird as telling this one supermodel that i didnt care if we didnt have sex because i cherished our friendship so much, but weird nevertheless.

    men are not programmed to say no to good lovin from hot young girls who like to fulfill fantasies, but my plants had the right answer.

    they said, tony, if you watered us every day, we would die. we love the water, but it would drown us.

    the flowers said, and some of us only bloom when we think we’re going to die, the day to day look of many flowering plants do not include the beautiful colors that we know them for being.

    the flowers dont know english too well, please excuse them.

    still, i got the point.

    but ashley didnt.

    she called crying and sobbing and left the saddest messages on my phone. please dont leave any more sad messages on my phone, dear angels of the moonlight.

    im a stubbly olde man who walks with a cane who has carpal tunnel and types with a pencil scotched taped to the center of my reading glasses.

    my hips are about to go out, my breath is foul, my words are foul, my ways are foul, i lie in my blog, and worst of all, i dont respect the president of the united states of america. i think he’s gross.

    surely there must be a handsome young man in orange county who could take care of the daisy princess in ways that she deserves.

    but strangely there isnt.

    and shes not the only one.

    i work with some of the hottest women in showbusiness. educated, intelligent, totally together, gorgeous young women who definately know how to please a man, i am sure, and yet they go out into the wild and come back empty-handed and unsatisfied.

    and i think about all of the supercool single men who i would fix them up with, and i think, i dont know any supercool single men to fix them up with.

    i mean i do, but these women are looking for different types of men.

    perfect ones.

    im a good job, two inches, and a vette away from being perfect, but ashley doesnt care. she also doesnt care that im old enough to be her dirty neighbor across the street. she loves me for who i am and tells me all the nice things i want to hear but the only thing i can tell her in return is youre far too good for me. go to the skatepark with a big pizza and a mini skirt.

    she only says i dont want to go to any skate park, i want you!

    and i want her too, america. of course i do.

    but i also want to save the world first. and i want to do the right thing. and i want to figure out how im supposed to have thanksgiving with a vegitarian poolside in orange county and not consider myself a sellout.

    these are the biggest dillemas i have this week.

    dont ever let me bitch about shit.

    azarok