im typing you from the conceirge desk at the fabulous hotel. id tell you which one but its top secret. they dont have a computer room or an “office center” or a “business center” or anything along those lines but they do have a cool computer with a flat screen next to the conceirge for checking ones email, etc.

last night i got jacked at the kinkos. i thought i was paying $12/hr for internet access but when i was done they charged me $24/hr because i was sitting at “the design station”, whatever the hell that means.

funny thing about me is that i wont really argue about being overcharged if Black people are involved. especially in the big money world of Palm Springs.

i had so many things i could have told them like “well you told me to sit over there” and “this is why you will be working at Kinkos at midnight the rest of your life”. but i take it easy on my people.

someone has to.

plus im living a dream life.

if i were to travel the country and write about it, i would want to hook up some sort of arrangement with Kinkos i think because it is great to have something around 24/7 where i could get on the web whenever i wanted. for example what if my laptop broke or got stolen.

this hotel is great and when i get back i will upload pictures and tell you all about it.

in the meantime i hope my internet heroes will post a few more classic posts from the busblog’s near two-year run.

i would hate to have you bored wherever you are because i am taking a few days off here in the 100 degree dry heat.

its really spectacular here.

i dont know why i dont come out here more often, it really is a “short two-hour drive.”

caio!

i was trying to prove God to this buddist at the baja fresh and i saw my old boss signalling me from the salsa station.

my old fbi boss.

i excused myself and met him in the men’s room.

“long time, agent.”

“not that long, really, seems like yesterday.” i said.

“hows the xbi treating you?”

“the what?”

“ok, well, whatever. tony we want you back.”

“im touched.”

“we miss you and we need you.”

“you cant afford me.”

“what, are you suddenly materialist? has the xbi spoiled you?”

“it’s not money that i want.”

“figured as much, what do you want then?”

my old boss wasnt much of a negotiator, especially with me. all he would ever say is “no.”

“i want my old flying car back and i want to be a superagent, and i want my old territory back.”

“sorry kid, no can do. santa monica is taken.”

“yeah, i know, by your son-in-law. is he still in the hospital?”

“hal is back, he’s fine, thank you.”

“well, those are my terms, my fish tacos are getting cold.”

someone knocked on the door, my boss yelled, “one sec, buddy.” then he said, “we could get you your car.”

“and i want to pick my partner,” i added.

“next you’ll be telling me that you want to pick your boss.”

“get me santa monica back, and let me pick my partner and i’ll be happy with you as my boss.”

“boy, that’s a change.”

my boss always liked to get close to me and whisper in my ear. that never sat well with me, but i understood his motives.

he said, “i’ll see what i can do, agent. but your partner has to be someone from the bureau. none of those xbi hoodlums.”

i washed my hands with hot water and soap. my boss looked at his male pattern baldness and primped. i dried off with the papertowels and threw all but one in the trash and used the remaining towel to protect my soon-to-be fishy fingers and opened the door.

like a gentleman i allowed my boss to exit first.

he said thank you and as he passed, i attached a bug to the collar of his suit coat.