and then head out into some hollywood bars and guess what my answer is?

is the day before thanksgiving national be gay day? arent you gay by default if you dont want drunk hot girls to come over and watch “wild on…” and get drunker on the first night of four days off?

you know what it is. its work. i give everything at work. i wake up early. i dont take breaks. i eat at my desk. i walk fast everywhere. i fly fast everywhere. i answer the phone on the first ring. I dont use a signature on the bottom of my emails. i hustle. some people talk shit but those people are haters, but they tire me out too.

so when i get home i just want to soak in the hottub, drink my rum, watch the lakers and cruise the internet.

and these are wild girls. high energy. im pooped, i only have vodka, rum, amaretto, wine, and the high life, and i only have one couch. where will people sit?

welcome to my nightmare.

shit. i only have two wine glasses.

theres a minute left in the third period and they just took out karl malone and the audience applauded him because the lakers are up by 25 and he probably wont be playing any more tonight.

shaq isnt even in the house and theyre creaming the bullets, i mean wizards.

anti is my hero + evan ames teaches us that you cant get a tattoo in oklahoma + are you people aware that amy is taking great pictures almost every day of nyc + i downloaded firebird today because i read that the ward was using it + blook ii wont have pictures but if it did it would look like this + sublog doles some audblog shoutouts + every time bunnie posts the internet smiles + get well, mindy + raymi wrote eight very short sentences today and they were all better than any of mine, and yesterday she got naked for our asses

and here at the xbi it means Go Home at 2pm Day.

fun part is you have to do at least one thing really good if you want to leave at 2pm, so this morning some guy made breakfast for everyone. this one lady is giving everyone 10 minute massages, this one woman brought in brownies.

it’s quite festive.

hardly any gunplay.

if im lucky i will get to spend a romantic night tomorrow night with my truest. shes a little under the weather so i might just have to suprise her with a turkey dinner that i will order from the Pantry and bring over to her. might rent a car this week. might not do squat. might sit around in my foul stench and listen to todays sounds and think up tv commercials that wont ever air on tv.

this morning there were two firetrucks and an ambulance outside my cabana. anytime i see that i worry about my 89 year old landlady. i imagine she had a heart attack or something. i never know why the fire trucks need to be there. all it will be is a dead old lady in her old lady bed.

am i bad to wonder why shes hanging in there? the owner took her garage and didnt lower her rent. she drinks rubbing alcohol by the bottle. her sheets smell of wee.

i get her chocolates and she just melts them down cuz she cant chew.

how fucked up are things when you cant even chew chocolate.

sometimes i worry that the things i will write in here will get back to people, but im not worried about this getting back to her because no one talks to her cuz shes racist and wants to be a scientologist, but i do cuz she cracks me up.

shes afraid the owner will kick her out if she complains.

i tell her if the owner kicks her out he will be exposed on tv and become very embarrassed.

shes lived where shes lived for 45 years.

i hope she didnt die last night.

in her sleep.

with her cat waiting for the kibbles n bits to get poured into a bowl that says Dusty.

an excerpt from blook ii

see thru skin + low culture + sk smith

last year nobody believed me when i said that i was the worst brother in the world.

they thought just because i write a little blog and save the world and do things like announce on here that it’s my sister’s birthday that i must be ok. im not so ok. a few months ago she flew me out to chicago so we could throw a surprise for my mom’s birthday and did i send my sister a birthday card or a gift last week? no. the card is still in my backpack and the gift is still on my dining room table.

im a bad brother.

im so bad that i will now reprint what i wrote about my sister last year.

maybe that will show you.

today is my sister’s 25th birthday. 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 just as somebody’s sister? especially when she was an angel and i was far from that.

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 (pictured). 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.

kylas first day