they ask me about things and i’ll tell them whatever they ask.

they question me about boys and whether they should break up with their boyfriends and i say stay with you man. we’re all the same, really, and in your youth you should figure out how to mend things and compromise, not how to break up.

they ask me about sexual positions and i check their IDs and i tell them make sure he’s there and you’re there and thats all you need to work on.

they ask me what its like to be 109 and i tell them its just like being 18 except you’ve seen everything hitchcock ever made.

sometimes they’ll send me pictures, and thats nice, sometimes they’ll mail me gifts and who doesnt like gifts, but mostly they pay attention to me and i would say thats the best thing in the world for a single man and the worst for a not single man.

and all of this because of you, blog. wonderfully arranged zeroes and ones laying resident on a box in a server in a cage far away from here.

thank you zeroes and ones.

thank you. like the jiggaman said, you could be anywhere in the world tonight, but youre here, and i appreciate that.

some say this is all a grand experiement in communication. some poo-poo it. some dont even know what to think. the cynics call it the loudest bird call in modern history. i call it a miracle.

one day my princess will come and i wouldnt be surprised if she came from the pictures and text found on this very blog.

i just hope shes legal, lives nearby, and knows where i can find a decent paying job so i can buy a car and some clothes, and maybe a tv for the bedroom.

and hopefully she likes to make out to my favorite rock group, tsar.

bathtubgirl

tiger woods?

thats right, bitch, large and in charge, signing my name for whitey in hawaii. how you livin’ g?

this isnt tiger woods.

sho nuff m’ schnizzle. who else it’d be?

“who else it’d be?” tiger woods doesnt speak ebonics.

i know i know. im sorry tony, i thought you’d like it better if i “kept it real.” you dont talk about me much and im dying for your attention.

so you figured you’d try to speak in ebonics?

well, i see that you print the lyrics of missy elliott and eminem and nelly and nwa, and i figured that was one of the only ways that i could make it on your page.

wrong again, stanford grad. in fact the best way to get your swill mug on the bus blog is to be requested by a loyal reader. i forget who always asks for you, but when she does she asks nicely and often.

word up!

i dont know tiger, in theory i should really love you and get behind you but theres something about you that rubs me the wrong way.

is it my asian mom?

no. i think shes sweet. i like it that she takes pictures of you with a thirty dollar 35mm camera even though any one of the dozens of pro photographers would just give her a picture.

is it my crazy pops? he so crazy.

nope. hell, seeing how much money you make, your dad is the smartest man in america.

yeah i get by…. making those ends.

get by? dude, you played in a total bs non pga event last weekend in japan and let the homeboy win, you placed a pathetic 8th and you still got a check written out to you for $49,673.

who told you that?

xbi, bizitch.

i keep forgetting.

and tigerwoods.com

d’oh. i mean, shit, bitch, why those negroes gotta be all up in my business like that. exposing a player for just living as he should: pimped out, and stylin, yo.

whatever tiger. $50k for a weekend is pocket change for you. you havent had that bad of a payday since the british open in july when you tied for 21st and only made $37,925.

damn g, why you gotta bring that shit up?

because i work my ass off and i wont make $37,925 this entire year!

nice buzzkill, tony.

f you.

jealous or something? no one said you couldnt pick up a golf club when you were a kid and get on merv griffin.

tiger, whatever. i dont care. im happy for you. if it wasnt you raking it all in, it would be some fratboy from texas. its all good.

one love, my homie. ungh.

for kicks though, how has your year been?

decent, i won bay hill got $720k; won the masters three weeks later, mil; won the us open; mil; then the buick open; half mil; then won the american express; another mil.

so about 4-5 millin in winnings this year?

more like 7-8.

still doing that swedish babe?

which one? huh, yeah player, yeah!

holy shit, tiger, is that fuzzy zoeller?

where? where tony? hey where did you go tony? hey. hmmm. wait a plum second! wheres my wallet!!!!?

kate sullivan

and she writes me the sweetest little postcards from where ever shes at, and she insinuates the things that go through her mind when shes engrossed with her rabbit pearl, and how she likes to read the busblog and how she wishes i would write dirtier stories, tales of love gone wrong and then how it’s righted, and how it ends happilly ever after.

mariah gets mad when i talk of christina and anna and this one and that one when she knows this whole big ball of wax started with a lust affair over the girl who everyone wishes they could sing like.

sometimes she’ll call me from the road where she had just done some bellboy or hot waiter or local dancer who thought he was a stud and she’ll send him on their way when shes done with them and she’ll say i thought of you the whole time.

and i say, mariah!

and she’ll sing, what a girl wants, what a girl needs, whatever makes me happy…

mariah can be super funny sometimes, i love that about her.

and she can be so sweet.

she asked me if i could tell everyone that she’s got a new cd coming out next month and i was all, uh baby, arent you going to have a million dollar marketing campagin?

and she said, yeah, but no one really reaches people like you.

so since flattery totally works on me, here goes:

party people of the world, lend me your beers. my girl mariah is about to unleash a new record. dont call it a comeback. its a Charmbracelet. yes, i know its dumb, but its my girl and i lust her. so maybe theres someone in your life who might want it, like me, so make sure you get it before she gets booted from this record label too.

if anything mariah cds are fun to make out to.

one night we were kissing and she said, who’s on your list?

i said, you, christina a., anna, the dallas cowboy cheerleaders, and drew barrymore.

she said, i cant be on your list, we’ve, well, im disqualified. i already gave it to you.

i said, you will always be on my list.

right at the top.

my list

trust me when i tell you that it’s not easy being my little sister.

throughout the years i did things like chase her around with knives, i threw her keys on the roof of the house, i vandalized her posters and magazines, i may have killed one of her dogs, hid a variety of things, listened in on a few conversations of her talking to her friends to find out if they had crushes on me, and continually lobbied to my mother that she was being far too generous with her. normal brother stuff.

but the worst thing i did was get born. and worse, i did it a year before she did.

i steamrolled through elementary school, junior high, and high school like a tornado. every teacher, student, and principal knew my name and either totally hated my ass or fell in love. and because we didn’t look very much alike, people would constantly say, “you’re tony’s sister?”

what little kid wants to be known as somebody’s sister? especially when she was an angel and i was far from that. look at that body language!

angie and i could not be more different. i was super good at sports and terrible at getting good grades, my sister was an honor roll student and a cheerleader. because of that there were a lot of clashes within the pierce household, and when my mom got a stereo the common war zone was the living room and the soundtrack was ac/dc’s back in black, which angie got for a gift and which i instantly purloined and cranked as loudly as possible every day for many years while she practiced her flute.

if there was a career in how to torture your sister i would be a zillionaire. i believe there were incidents of locking her into basements, closets, neighbors houses, cop cars. i remember certain moments where fellas would come over to court her and i told them they were at the wrong house. and of course there were the firefights.

and yet my sister stuck by me. probably because i never narced on her during some of the many stealth parties that she threw when my mom was out of town. and i was always there to protect her in the shadows of school, like any brother. not that she needed my protection, there was very little that anyone could have done to torture her that she didn’t experience in the safety of her own home.

years later my sister met the man of her dreams. and the funny thing was, i liked him right away. dave is mild mannered, smart, patient and still calls my mom mrs. pierce. thats respect. they bought a huge house. filled it with all the animals that angie loves, comfy couches, pretty much everything that she had in the barbie dreamhouse that i turned x-rated and then lit on fire but now it was full-sized and wonderful.

so what has my sister done lately? no offense to my friends with kids, but she and dave brought to the world the cutest little girl in the world. kyla joanne. when we were in aruba this summer, kyla never cried. it was amazing. i dont know what they put in her bottle but all that little girl ever did was look at you and smile and point at you and hold your finger and laugh. if she closed her eyes and started to get irritated, my sister and my brother in law knew exactly what to do. it was crazy. full on esp. they should write a book.

so heres to my sister, bears fan, bulls fan, cubs fan, def lepard fan. her first concert, with me, was the jackson five, but then i think her second one was rick springfield at great america. if i was a good brother and ever called her, id know.

happy 25th angie. i love you so very much. i love that you call mom “mother”, i love that you still live in the silly suburb that we grew up in. i love that you are your own person and nothing like me and a much better soul. and i love that you are my sister.

kyla’s first day