the ghost of bukowski continues to haunt my hollywood flop house. two things are missing, however: his alcoholism, and his smooth confidence.

i am nervous.

not because of the obvious. im cool about that. im just afraid i cant live up to the hype.

it’s one thing to write a blog that people like, but to BE that person or anything like that person in real life is daunting. especially if, as is the case here, i am much more mild mannered in person than i am on paper.

plus tomorrow morn i have to go to work.

one babe is showing up at 9pm, the other will arrive at midnight.

blogstar tony would take the hottie to the nudes nudes nudes next to the airport and play footsies with her as motley crue plays and we sip $6 miller lites while waiting for her pallie to arrive.

reallife dumbass tony will probably take her to fatburger on lincoln and sip diet coke and stutter a lot.

it’s a wonder i dont have to pay for sex.

bukowski used to be able to handle this much easier, i have read.

the girls who would read his stuff would come to LA, knock on his door, they would drink all night and he would show up to work hungover and sloppy – or not show up at all.

im far too responsible. sadly. stupidly. horribly!

the other bad news is my maid called me this morning telling me that her son was in the ER last night and she wouldnt be able to clean my house today. tragic, since my place is a pig sty.

hopefully they will consider it charming. or rustic.

my towels are sorta cruddy. i have no milk. because im bald i have no shampoo or conditioner, though i think i have some samples from the hotel suite i was last in.

i have clean sheets but theyre flannel sheets. what sort of host lays down flannel sheets in the august in LA?

these are the dilemas that will haunt my day.

in better news, danielle, looking phenominal in her japanese stewardess pink polka dot dress bought me my morning apple juice.

bunnie was in la + bunny mc is in toronto with raymi + sk smith is still watching alias