of two of my favorite people in the world. miss danielle k and miss flagrant dis regard.

danielle and i worked together at the xbi several years ago. often times people ask me why i believe in the Lord and sometimes i will tell them that its because He knows when youre low and will send you an angel.

when i was undercover at E! i was working in a department for a boss who didnt respect me, champion me, help me, nurture me, or stoke me in any way. i was on my own and behind the eight ball from the get go.

out of nowhere my supervisor, who i love, said oh tony youre gonna like this new girl over at Style. and people say those things and you think, oh it must be another of the long line of hotties they got over there but wait are you saying i only like hotties how dare you!

but then danielle came bounding off the elevator dressed all classy in her bohemian chic with that long blonde hair with those dazzling eyes and her goofiness that some people dont get and i was all damn bitch youre awesome.

we talked about books and poems and music and cali and finally we were told to break it up that we were supposed to be working, aka hating life.

so we exchanged emails and two weeks later we were hanging out every day at lunch at breaks and sometimes even after work.

my life sucked but hers sucked worse and because shes not a sadist she got the hell out of the job and got into grad school and moved away from me and now lives on a boathouse in la jolla.

shed often wonder why i never girlfriended her and id say its cuz youre a Sag and Libras and Sag’s never work, but i will take a gazillion pics of you and she was all DEAL and she’d pose, america, in any way that i’d ask. she’s a sweet girl and a perfect model and has a heart of gold and i miss her dearly.

now she has a surfer boy bf and theyre in domestic bliss and she wins trophies and she spends his winnings at anthropologie and on $8 salads and thats why she hasnt updated her blawg in two months but you know what — good. cuz if you read her blog 9 times out of 10 she would post when she was super sad or super mad so if shes not going there to vent that means shes happy.

which is what she deserves to be. so bro must be doing her right.

now flagrant disregard is a totally different ball of wax entirely.

ive never met her, ive never exchanged more than a half dozen emails with her, ive only talked on the phone once with her, and for all i know it was a total put on, but i dont think so.

flagrant continues to keep the shroud of mystery going on her blog and i love that. i have been one of the very few people that shes ever linked from on her deal and yet she wont return most of my emails or requests to be interviewed podcasted or anything. shes a cheapskate but she wont take my bait and allow me to send her a copy of Stiff free.

Tsar plays Saturday at Spaceland and as much as she loves good music i doubt that she will go.

but now that i have a car i hope she knows that if she ever needs anything like a drone to go to Target for her in the middle of the night for some corn-free vitamin C i hope she will email me or call.

typically the rule of thumb with blogging is someone who doesnt show their face but claims to be a model probably isnt a model, but every time you start to lose trust in ms disregard she flies off to cuba and brings back a few killer photos in her unique style and you go shit that lil ho went off to see castro without me!

ive met pretty much everyone who ive ever wanted to meet. from elvis costello to paul westerberg to hillary clinton to mc marc brown. theres a part of me who wants to be flagrants best friend forever and theres part of me whose very happy with this weirdass relationship of me talking about her and linking her several times a month and her ignoring everything that i do and say and instead focusing on the demons in her head.

in a perfect world i would have a mansion and she would live in the haunted guest house and she would ring the bell and my assistant would be at her beck and call and she would make art in the courtyard in the dark late at night with noone to bother her and if someone did she would bang the gong and that person would be fed to the crocks in the moat.

i have no clue really who she is but shes fucking awesome and i love her and im glad she made it to another birthday.

at least im hoping she has, bitch hasnt updated in a week.

happy birthday ladies, youve made my life far better because of your presence.

first interview with flagrant + danielle poses, a film + a hot photo essay with danielle

i dont link her enough, i dont talk about her enough, i dont praise her enough

but this year’s winner of the anna award is totally worthy of the highest praise

not only is she a committed writer, but shes real with her feelings, and takes risks where others dont.

so many people who dont know californians claim that the people are fake. xTx isnt fake, she lays it out there, she goes for it, she rules, and we’re all very lucky that she’s blogging.

shes crude, shes funny, she gets drunk, she gets high, she goes to strip clubs in vegas, she watches porn, she sits in her favorite hot tub and lets the jets do her, she loves the jerk, and just this year she discovered the eagles.

but best of all she writes down what she goes through which is exactly what bloggings all about.

heres a nice little post she whipped out last month:

i hate that things take time. i hate that it took three hours to do something today that I didn’t know would take three hours. i hate that things are changing. i hate change. i hate that drinking a tasty slimfast shake for breakfast and another for lunch with healthy snacks in between and a sensible dinner does not make me lose wieght. I hate that i can’t spell weight. i hate that i can’t do math. i hate that the new girl who started working for me, who actually liked Howard Stern, quit after two weeks because she had to move to Texas. i hate reading resumes. i hate reading resumes with spelling errors or resumes that tout skills like, ‘have a valid california drivers license’ or ‘can access web pages’. i hate that i won’t be a millionaire until my dad dies. i hate that i won’t win the lotto or super mega millions lotto or a lotto scratcher. i hate that i can’t cook dinner every night. i hate that i downloaded a free trial of cinema tycoon and the stupid icon is on my desktop. i hate that i can’t play video games all day long and get paid for it. i hate that stephen king doesnt have any new books out except for this one that i just bought but it’s like a 50’s detective mystery shit. i hate that certain people have too many activities. i hate that they’re coming out with the movie of Narnia cuz now kids won’t read the book fuck that. i hate that i don’t have a master bedroom. i hate that santa is posting on my blog just kidding clausy. i hate that i dont have any friends anymore. i hate that i can’t paint or sing. i hate that i gave a survey person 15 minutes of my time today for no reason. i hate that i might have to update my resume. i hate that life isn’t predictable. i hate that i don’t have an earthquake preparedness kit ready. i hate that every time i pet my dogs enthusiastically i get slobbered and dog smelled. i hate that i can never think of what to blog and then it stresses me out and that is wrong. i hate that people can’t see how great i am. i hate that i don’t think i’m great at all. i hate that i haveta make everyone like me. i hate that i clear my throat all the time like a tourette’s retard. i hate my thighs. i hate that i am not a girl. i hate that i had to walk under a prickly bush to take out the trash and parts of the bush fell into my buttcrack and now i have bush particles in my crack. i hate that people hate. i hate that children’s beauty pageants exist. i hate feeling stupid. i hate every room in my house. i hate not sleeping at night. i hate my hair most every day and am perplexed and awkward when people tell me they love my hair. i hate that i am ugly. i hate that i am a slob. i hate that i am lazy. i hate that i enjoy tv. i hate not going to the movies everyday. i hate never watching the news. i hate not living in new york. i hate losing a hundred thousand tokens on pogo playing texas holdem. i hate people who wish you “gg” or “nh” on pogo cuz that’s gay i don’t know you stop being nice. i hate that i waste a lot of time on worthless things. i hate that alluva sudden my digital camera at work won’t upload pictures to my computer so now i have to walk all the way down to the studio to upload pics. i hate that the famous rapstar guy didn’t talk more. i hate that my washer and dryer are outside in the garage and i have to leave my house to get the laundry. i hate folding clothes. i hate that i will never be on price is right. i don’t know how to end this so i just am going to end it now.

2004 anna winner flagrant disregard + 2004 anna winner raymi le minx + no time to say it

while i was passed out and they went straight for the garage and cracked open the soda fridge.

i caught them this morning trying to defrost some rib roast.

they flung feces at me, but i had some of my own and im a better shot.

fuckers.

corralled most of them before kickoff this morning but i think theres one around here hiding cuz i can smell cigarette smoke.

during their rampage they knocked over the tommy chong bong and got bongwater all over my computer and now my box needs its button pushed and held before it will turn on.

and no, im not talking about clipper girls cousin.

so i tried to burn my porn real quick off my hard drive just incase this thing has a short thats dying to pop and fritz out this whole mo fo and the computer shut off about 5 minutes into the burn, so this might be my last dispatch till tomorrow.

this all might be karmic payback for not picking up the phone when the 90 year old landlady called.

it was her on tuesday who the firetrucks and ambulance was for.

on thanksgiving day she called me while i had a fork full of hot steamy soul food and she wouldnt tell me why but insisted that i come over.

i did.

she said her backdoor was open and unlocked.

gross.

got over there and she had me adjust her pillows.

she had locked herself inside her room. instead of a bedroom door she had a screen door. it was ripped by the handle so she could lock it from her side but if someone needed to come in they could slip their hand through the rip in the screen.

she really isnt that crazy.

she told me she was making a will, what did i want.

i told her i wanted some of her mothers original paintings.

she said, which ones. i said the ones youve been looking at all these years, and i pointed to the ones behind me.

there was a totally uneaten can of wet cat food on top of a table. it had been mushed at a little, and its consistency was sagging so at a quick glance it looked like a heap of shit on a plate. but it was just cat food.

her cat cowered beneath the table.

the place smelled of piss and she told me that she couldnt walk any more, that it was right where her left front pocket would be if she wasnt wearing a housecoat.

she said she couldnt walk anymore and showed me a little trash can where she said she would probably use

she said her new girl was black and good but wouldnt be around until monday

she said her doctor was out of town until monday and he had left the number to the doctor who was going to cover for him, but she didnt remember his name.

she asked if i was going to be in town this weekend.

i lied and said no.

just then the phone rang. it was her best friend in illinois. she had told me about him before. she said hi cliff to him and told him to call her later and he slowly said that he would.

i looked around. i liked her place.

she told me to go look in the living room for anything else that i would want.

she had old records, great old books. i wanted everything.

i returned and she told me to make sure i had closed the screen door in the living room.

i told her all i wanted was this old book of mark twain stories.

she said, is that it? that i had been so nice to her.

i hadnt been so nice.

she bought me a chocolate tort once.

she had me write down the numbers of people like this animal rescue guy who she wanted all the left over stuff to go to.

she wanted him to have most of her money cuz she loves animals.

good thinking, i told her.

she called a few hours later. i didnt answer. she knows a lot of people.

she also knows 9-1-1.

she said her biggest fear was what would happen to her cat.

when she called 9-1-1 on tuesday they told her that they would have to take her to the hospital. she said what about my cat, they said who cares about your cat.

so she didnt go to the hospital.

next day she realized that the animal rescue guy would take care of her cat.

i know if i promised her that i would take care of the cat she would give me everything that she has, records, books, new tv, 100 year old original american art that really is good

cases of ensure.

but i dont like cats.

even mellow ones who pretty much just hang out.

i barely like monkeys.

originally posted two years ago today on the busblog

today is danielle‘s birthday + and flagrant’s + awwww the Christmas spirit lives

so i wasnt able to follow up on some of the questions that some of you had regarding comments in blogs.

so here goes.

there are several ways to be a pussy ass bitch regarding comments.

the grandaddy of them all is to be an anonymous negative commentor. that is someone who strolls into a blog, says something negative and doesnt leave a real email address, blog address and/or real name.

theres no reason to be this much of a pussyass. we’ve discussed this before, at length.

but whats funny is theres always an asshole and his friend who will try to defend the practice by saying something completely stupid like, “well shit tony, if you dont want people to say fucked up shit, you shouldnt have open comments where people dont need to register.”

uh, no. thats not a good excuse.

my real name is tony pierce. i have several ways to be contacted. you can write me at tony at tony pierce dot come, you can write me at busblog at gmail dot com you can even write me at busblog@yahoo.com.

you can send me your panties, nudes, cash, loveletters, your bands cds, dvds, christmas gifts, or even kwanza gifts to 4845 Fountain Ave. #15, Hollywood CA 90029.

you can leave comments here at the busblog or on my Buzznet account at tony.buzznet.com

i am as open a book as can be.

im not in hiding like a jagoff like negative anonymous commentors. and its not because i dont talk shit, because you know from yesterday i talk hella shit. infact i talk more shit than probably anyone.

i said i was glad ronald reagan was dead when he died, i said i was glad the pope was dead when he died, and i even said i wasnt all that happy that the chicago white sox won the world series last year.

pretty much nothing that a negative commentor could say could equal the ire that those statements could create.

but the reason that pretty girls want to make out with me, and people read my shit, and my books sell, and people jockey to hire me, is because a) im right about my beliefs b) if im not 100% right im funny in how i present my arguements c) i have the courage to put my fucking name next to what i say

and my precious email address.

which brings us to the chickenshits of the anonymous negative commentors who say that one reason that they dont want to leave their email address next to their bullshit is because of spam – either man made hate mail or computer generated annoyances.

earth to idiot: youre full of shit.

yes its true that i have a pretty healthy following. and its also true that im an xbi agent who has a lot of friends. and its true that i have readers of all walks of life including fans who work in the armed forces, the heavilly armed forces, and some who like me work in the shadows between good and evil.

trust me when i say that we’re not at all interested in having an email war with your pansy ass.

similarily i have had the busblog rolling since August of 2001, and it has had comments since August of 2001. since its inception ive had comments that produce hundereds of comments each week. not once have i had anyone ever say that their email address got spammed because they left a comment on this blog.

and you know what, if you get a little spam in your box, delete it. this is 2005. nearly 2006, spam is one of the very small annoyances of living in this modern world, yes you might get a few penis enlargement ads sent to your ass, but its probably because of some dumbshit thing you signed up for through aol and not because you left your email address on the busblog.

and genius, there are several ways to get around spam like doing something so elementary that i cant even believe im wasting this second by teaching you this but here goes. if your email addy is jagoff@jagoff.com, in the busblog comments just type it slightly off like jagoff@jaggoff.con or jagoff@jaggoff[removethis].com

children know this.

so yes, if youre going to say something stupid and negative, leave your name. and leave your email address. and if youre really a tough guy, leave your web address or myspace page. otherwise you will be called names and they will be accurate.

just because i have open comments doesnt mean that im asking for idiots to hide from the bushes and snipe at me. i have open comments for one reason – so that hot babes can hide in the bushes and tell me that they love me.

but thats not an anonymous negative comment, that is an anonymous positive comment. those are allowed. theyre allowed in the real world too.

just like you wouldnt drop an envelope under someones door and say “youre fat” and not sign it, you shouldnt do that on the web. not only isnt it nice, but thats a dick move.

however, if you wanted to send someone some flowers and a note that says “youre hot and im too shy to say it in person,” that would acceptable.

im all in favor of constructive criticism. yes ive been blogging for a little bit longer than the next guy, and yes people call me the blogfather, but i dont buy it. im not in the technorati 100, im not making $100k a year off my ads, and im not getting that much pussy off my shit. so obviously i have a ways to go.

but i will never listen to someone who doesnt have the guts to put their name next to their whines. ever. especially someone who hides behind the fucked up excuse that they dont want to leave their email address because theyre afraid of retrobution or spam.

i have far bigger fish to fry than to waste my talents getting caught up in an email flame war with some ass who doesnt even have a blog.

i would much rather make a post about it, educate the kids, re-establish the tone and groundrules of the busblog, and then link people who have said something nice about me.

and yes, on average its right to ignore the one or two naysayers in the peanut gallery, but every now and then its good to remind people that its your house, that you have rules, and that you are the master of your domain. literally. and if you can write better than the chickenshits, you should whomp their asses so visciously that no one else dare poke their stupid fucking heads out of that molehole.

its one reason why you dont see alot of bullshit in these comments.

ben allbright + diana + dave the pa + someone admitting to crimes + her accomplice

since im a positive person lets start with the good.

as you know there were some issues between the publisher of How To Blog and me regarding the cover of the book.

i was under the impression that the artist Shepard Fairey of the iconic wilding posters that are so prevelant here in Los Angeles and other cities would love to have his images in as many places as possible, which is why he allows for downloading of his posters and instructions on how to put them up.

the publisher was more like, yeah, whatever, it’s still his art and you should probably get permission to put it on the cover of something that youre about to sell a shitload of.

they told me this on friday.

busiest day for consumerism here in america.

and they put the book on hold unless i changed the cover.

so, i changed the cover. i whitewashed out the andre the giant image and they accepted it. the sales went on as i wrote an email to the creator of the obey/giant revolution.

who i admire greatly.

whose work always makes me smile whenever i see it. be it on the side of a mailbox or a street sign or firehydrant.

whose most recent portrait of the president is so good that the la weekly put it on their cover bleeding fangs and all after he won re-election.

so i wrote shepard an email and i posted about it on the rare chance that he would actually come to the busblog and see that it was a legit request.

little did i know that more than one reader of the busblog knew the good gentleman, and wrote to him on my behalf.

la is a small world. be nice to people.

and before i knew it i got an email from the man himself:

Tony,
It is fine for you to use that image. You have my permission.
A mention of me and my website is all I need.
I’d love to get a copy when it comes out.
Take care.
-Shepard

how unbelievably cool is that?

now heres the bad news, which might not be bad news after all.

there are some books that were ordered and produced that do not have me mentioning the good mr fairey and there are some books that were ordered and produced that do not have the original cover, they have the whitewashed cover.

those books, like i predicted, will be incredibly rare. my advice is that you hold on to them. less than 20 were made.

if however you want the official version of how to blog just mail the rare one back to me and i will exchange it for you.

now allow me to say a few things about cafepress

i think theyre an amazing company. i had to talk to them via email and phone about a half dozen times on making this book. mostly because im a dumbass and i hadnt done things right.

every time i talked with them they were friendly and intelligent and polite.

all you can ask for.

they have a toll free number, and youre normally talking to a real person within thirty seconds. love that.

and the product is gorgeous. you really need to see it to believe it. it looks like a real fucking book. it feels good in your hand. the colors are bright, and its shiny. it’s great.

all i need is an isbn number and a barcode and i could sell these to book stores. thats the only suggestion i can give them, sell those things and you’ve done it all.

i highly recommend cafepress for any author who wants to self publish their work.

big or small.

i can see online when the orders go in, what stage of production it’s in and what, if any, issues are delaying things.

its verrrry easy to change/edit/redesign things. maybe a little too easy. i suggest using a crazy password.

another little known fact is shipping is normal shipping prices, theyre not insane. and they only charge a buck each for shipping each additional book.

again, impressed by the company and by the kindness of strangers.

thanks to everyone.

obey giant + stiff + how to blog

who said my post about the chicago buzznet meetup was boring,

who the fuck asked you?

and who the fuck cares what you think?

theres a reason your momma named you anonymous, it was cuz her dick smelled like shit and her mouth was full.

why didnt you leave your blog address? the one thats burning up the blogosphere and people are falling all over themselves to link to you? was it because after you signed up for dipshit.blogspot.com you forgot the password?

its bushcheney just like all your passwords genius.

i bet your dick is huge. i bet you get lightheaded when you sweat to the oldies with richard simmons. i bet you look great in your peter pan outfit and your angel wings.

i bet right now youre stocking up on peanut butter to rub all over you as you starve your poodles in preparation.

let me tell you something about this blog negative anonymous commentor, this is as good as it gets. its the best because we dont allow pussy ass bitches to fuck up the program, we treat them like whiteheads: we identify them, analyze them, squeeze them, and then sterilize the infected pore. sorta like what God did to your momma after she shit you out and left you in that dumpster to die.

but even hell didnt want you so you had to move away to the cold, get raised by constantly lactating dobermans so you could leave fucked up lies on peoples blogs.

i came to chicago i drank booze i ate hot dogs i drank more booze i danced to fucking shania twain i drove pretty girls home and i woke up with a hangover in hangover park for your ungrateful ass, and then i fucking wrote about it and posted pictures so that you could be entertained for the hour and a half that it took you to sound out the words and you thank my by saying it was a zzzz post?

fuck you and your sore asshole. fuck you and your sadness. fuck you and your political and religious beliefs. fuck you and your kiddie porn.

im sorry that people want to come out in the rain and the shit and the cold and party with me and dance and drink and leave their shit in the back of my car and write about meeting me in their blogs and take pics with me and link me at the top of their shit. to be honest i dont know why anyone does it but they do. and theyve done it now in ny, la, vancouver, and now my sweet home of chicago.

im sorry i dont suck cock for crack like you do and then write about it so you’d find some sort of deeper bond than me. im sorry i use my real name unlike you and your pussy ass. im sorry i live a life worth writing about and you have your hairy palms and oprah reruns.

and im sorry youre such a loser

mr delay

but as soon as bushie pardons you you can go back to sucking on the teet of america and living off the fears of the redstate nation like youve done all these years.

just do us all a favor and keep your dumbshit comments out of the blogosphere

or if you insist on acting a fool, be a man and leave your name email address and brilliant blog url so we can all be enlightened with your prosedy.

hell is full of dullards and liars, my comments are full of angels, so either change your tune or stay the fuck out.

out like your daddy

out like your facist party

out like your ip address which will be right underneath the phone number that you scrawled on the bathroom stall at the little league.

senator.

and next time you leave a comment tell the truth which is you love my shit. leave the bullshit for the grand jury.

natural kinds + chad + raptor blog + bunny

it means even your butt says wtf, fool?

you want to be sweet to your momma you want to be sweet to the illini you want to be sweet to the lady youre holding the door open for, but at some point you say fuckit youre all on youre own im going to where its warm and you shut the door and run for it.

yesterday it was blah blah blah below zero. numbers really dont matter because anything below zero is fucked up. today it was 40 degrees when the sun went down, which means when i make it to the buzznet meetup its gonna be below freezing.

you wonder how people can live this way but then you see the incentives – you can buy houses without having to rob banks, you can buy big houses without having to “know” someone, and you can have a little land around your house without living two hours away from the city.

and the people are the nicest in the world.

outside of that, you’d still have to sucker me to move back here, which i know hurts my mommas feelings but what can i say, i like wearing shorts, i like keeping my windows open as i sleep, i like chewing the air.

when i get back to a wifi situation as opposed to this dialup test of wills i will upload some of the many water towers that i have photo graphed.

im not exactly sure why they have water towers here in the midwest and they dont in the west but it must have something to do with everything freezing for 1/3 of the year. like a dipshit i left my ipod in my mom’s ferrari and this morning when we drove from my sisters house i turned on my ipod and instead of seeing the familiar black apple, i saw a sillhoutte of a middle finger.

but then luckilly it faded away as it defrosted so i could play my devil music for mi madre.

when we got home i popped in the Chapple Show season one on dvd uncensored and she asked me if he was popular in california, i said thats rick james! hes worth $50 million to comedy central and she looked closer and didnt see the value, insisting that i was worth at least $20 million if he was worth 50.

but what was shocking to me was my beloved Stratford Square.

when i was a lad it was the newest, coolest, hippest shopping mall in town. it was built so that the good people of Roselle, Bloomingdale, Itasca and Hanover Park wouldnt have to drive a whole 21 minutes to go to Woodfield Mall.

we saw all the latest movies and hung out there and met girls and ate at the Sabarro’s pizza. now id say 1/4 of the shops are empty and the JC Penny has lost its shimmer. my have the mighty fallen.

so if youre reading this and youre in the chicagoland area, we’re meeting at Uncommon Ground on Clark near Wrigley Field so come out and have a pint with us and if not, fine, i dont blame you, its cold as a witches tit and on Monday im going directly to the beach right after getting off the plane cuz this shits insane.

it is nice though seeing Ditka on local tv.

tim + paige + monique + after before and before after

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, named after my mom.

then they had the most mellow little boy ever, tyler, after the singer of aerosmith.

then they moved out of the dreamhouse and bought a bigger one.

when they visited me in hollywood, kyla was sick but 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.

and it appears that that know-how has only been finetuned with tyler, or babybrother as everyone calls him.

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 23rd 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. i love that you let me steal your “back in black” back in the day at Christmas and never bothered me to ask to return it.

and i love that you are my sister.

my sister was in the paper yesterday + she has the coolest house in barrington + shes a realtor