as the cubs fell to the reds 7-9 dropping them out of sole possession of first place in the national league central and into a dead heat with the houston astros with three games left to play in the season.

all in the friendly confines of wrigley field.

against the lowly pirates from pittsburg.

so im not worried.

just waiting.

houston cant keep winning every damn game, and if they do, good for them.

this is a three game horse race now. a sprint. a fuck you i aint losin any more games. every game is everything. and it will be mine in time.

cubs lost tonight to a terrible reds team but they lost after scoring seven runs from eleven hits. i can be ok with that because the pitching will never be that bad again.

tonight dusty baker is saying this is the bottom of the barrel. this is rock bottom gentlemen, this is as low as it will ever get. for if we get this low again in the next three days, then we’re out.

this close to going to the dance with the pretty girl.

who wants to go to the dance.

right over here you have mr sammy sosa. seems to me that mr sosa wants to go to the pretty girl dance. i just need one more person to want it as bad as mr sosa and we can all go. three days is all i need from you. lets do this for our buddy sammy sosa.

and the cub fans of chicago who will all lose their minds simultaneously spontaneously and internationally.

some of you have never and will never get this close to that bling and despite what mr steinbrenner believes this bling isnt sold in stores.

you have the chance to become part of not only world series history but major league baseball history, the cubs team that could. three days of rock n roll. three days of focus. three days of meditation and prayer. and three days that you will only experience winning.

thank you for your efforts today.

see you motherfuckers at wrigley.

solo + the faith fools + another friend of the busblog who’s a blog of note: ultrablognetic

yes. they are.

at spaceland.

their home.

because they love survivor, they will come on immediately after the show. which is 9pm for you heathens.

heres what the local paper said about our boys in the Calendar Weekend sextion.

page E23:

Eddie Van Halen was among the stars who turned out to see the Darkness perform at the Roxy Monday… Speaking of arena rock, L.A.’s own thundering qartet, Tsar, will be ripping it up at Spaceland tonight…

I’d like to link you to the online version of the paper but the LA Times seems intent on shooting themselves in the foot and making their journalism only available on the Internet for free to 7-day subscribers. which makes so much sense because 7-day subscribers… never mind.

fuck the la times.

la times: fuck you.

there was some sort of brew ha ha about the Sacramento Bee and a blog they had that suddenly started getting edited because … whatever.

people wanted me to comment on it but fuck the la times, and fuck sacramento.

i like the Bee but fuck them.

sacramento is just a place the lakers play on their way to winning the championship.

and thats all it will ever bee.

during the hub bub the idea that real journalists love being edited and fake journalists hate being edited. welch called bs on it and i do too.

with that said, heres an email from my editor that i thought you’d like to see.

i use an editor because i have a good friend who reads what i write way more carefully than i do, and he works for cheap, and cuz im lazy and sloppy. not because im a real journalist or even for that matter a real blogger.

i like having a second pair of eyes but even with a dozen extra pair of eyes youre still going to end up with Dewey Defeats Truman or fatty fatty two by four, so whatever.

To: Tony Pierce

P.S. Got a ticket to Radiohead so won’t be at Tsar show tonight.

amako + zero 79 + socially retarded

and i didnt take it with me to chicago cuz i wasnt seeing any results and then i got back home and wham.

im not a vain man, obviously. for if i was i would care about the grammar and spelling of this deal. but i have grown comfortable with my fro. and the ladies seem to like it, but this (pictured) is ridiculous.

cheerleaders showed up last night. ready to rock.

i got the boombox out of the bathroom and brought it into the guest bedroom cuz the girls like to make a mess wherever we happen to be.

i lit candles and closed the windows as the ladies climbed into their outfits.

the party started. i chose the jesus and mary chain-esque Ravonettes as the music for the evening. rocking, but mellow, romantic yet with an edge. copycat, but a fair copy. im open minded. i forgive.

sometimes.

soon we were all twisted and upsidedown and backwards and heavy into it. quickly i was happy that i had locked the windows because it became loud and i get nervous about my neighbors thinking that either someone is being killed or that im watching an adult film at a high volume. for some reason i do care what they think. yes, im nuts.

sheets were ripped off the corners of the mattress, pillows hurled, clothes damaged, scratch marks created, posters injured, rhythms established.

after awhile i was working on just one of the ladies, concentrating, creating, being one with the energy, breathing, etc. while the other ran out for some whipped cream and restraints.

we had a little thing happening. a good thing. i would be more descriptive but confidences would be abused. lets just say that everything was going wonderfully.

and then the cd skipped

and then it skipped again.

then it gave that modern dududududududududu sound.

it threw me.

she whispered how good it felt.

chicks never pay attention to the rock.

i tried to refocus on her which i did for a sec but i couldnt

babababababababa

damn cd. it would get hung up for a sec and then pause, make it to the next measure and get stuck again. the most hideous sounds.

my girl didnt care. she was seeing stars. she was hooked on a feeling. she was barely legal and nearly there.

thanks to the absinthe i wasnt anywhere near there so when it became obvious that the cd needed to go to the next track i climbed off and hit the forward button and returned to the scene of the slime.

my cheerleader wasnt at all pleased as she caught her breath.

sorry baby, that was killing me, i told her.

i hate you she said and dug her pearly whites into my neck and we went back at it.

her cousin soon returned and everything went very nicely until the post game interviews when she told the press that she hated the fact that i paused and left her stranded right on the peak of mt. olympus to mess with the stupid cd. i explained that i thought she was being as distracted as i was.

she said, fuckhead, did i seem distracted? color still on her flushed cheeks.

and if i dont wire my guest room to accept the mp3 feed from my 400mhz computer im a dumbass.

even though im one anyway. but at least my fro is back.

tres biatches + jarret house + sahalie