myabe twenty three. who knows.

thats the thing about kristin, twenty two sounds just as good as twenty three when it comes to her.

we’re celebrating her birthday right now because tomorrow im driving up to frisco and it looks like there may be a little rain when i get into no cal.

this afternoon mc brown let me out of work a little early so i could get the handyman before he left, and i was also able to get the tires rotated and a nice little jiffy lube oil change.

funny thing happened… when i was pumping gas in beverly hills in the late 80s the old people used to always ask me to check the air in the tires.

i was all equipped with an entire uniform: polyester dark blue stiff pants, a sweet dark blue with orange trimmed longsleeve undershirt with a patch that said my name, a powder blue collored shortsleeve shirt with a patch with said my name, i had a dark blue jacket with my name on it if it got cold, and they sent a shoeman around once a year to fit us with steeltoe black work shoes.

and they gave us a tire gauge which we put in our pockets.

only old people ask you to check the tires.

old people will get out and watch you check the tires.

youd think the elderly would simply buy a three dollar tire gauge if air pressure was so central to their lives.

but instead they took their perfect cars into an full service gas station and paid fifty cents a gallon more so they could get out of their cars and watch them check their tires.

the mexicans i worked with felt extremely insulted by their lack of trust in creeping out of the car to literaly look over your shoulder.

but i told my friends to watch how they also got out and checked when the whiteboys had rushed the car. its not racism, its what old people do.

and then i showed them how its done.

what you do with an old person is perfect the head fake.

make like youre going to the drivers side front tire and when the old man turns his back to close the door you slink all the way around to the passenger rear tire and take reading before he can catch up with him.

then you head fake left to the drivers rear and when he leans that way you jag right to the passenger front tire and take that reading. then fake right again and sweep all the way around to the left and make sure the gas tank hasnt finished yet. if it hasnt check that tire while grampa gets blocked out by the hose.

then you have one left.

wait for the gas to fill the tank, replace the cap and put the nozzle in the side of the pump. look at the tire and tell the old man 5 bucks says its perfect. and watch how the old man wont bet you. he cannot admit to his mania. he will not admit to his madness. and hes on a fixed income, if hes wrong he cant get any flan at el pollo loco.

but you both know that tires right on the money, all the other three are.

plus half those old men were millionaires and if theres one thing i learned from most millionaires its this: they didnt become millionaires by losing a lot of bets.

so today i took the car into jiffy lube and they charge $35 which is a lot for an oil change but they pride themselves on vaccumming your shit and checking all your fluids and making sure theres enough air in your tires.

id be a fool not to jiffy lube my automobile before taking it up through the woods in probably a terrible rainstorm.

so i made sure to buy a new pair of wiperblades. ten bucks each. big spender.

so the chickie reads off the twenty odd things that they did and she said that the tires were checked but they were fine so i asked the dude if he could just check the two front ones for me because they seemed a bit low

and i felt like an old man.

check the tires sonny.

but dagnabbit werent i right they were a good 15 pounds low.

fuckers.

so they got no tip. even though its Christmas. check my shit bitches, im going on long car ride to nevermind.

and in oklahoma a super girl who i got to meet this year was born on this day.

unsom + simpleton + ilisu + wes in calgary

and lately i’ve had to delete some comments that have asked me this question because all i want for Christmas is for people to enjoy the busblog.

plus those sorts of questions are embarrassing.

in the past ive asked for an ipod and youve given it to me, i asked for a trip to aruba and in a matter of weeks you gave that to me, ive asked you to buy my books and tshirts and youve totally stoked me, and youve even flowed to my car fund.

the busblog’s sole purpose is not to raise money for my slacking ass – never mind those ads you see on the left. that over there is a hallucination. that over there is a post unto itself.

the busblog’s sole purpose is to get me laid.

and i must admit that the busblog has come through with that in wild and beautiful ways, so thank you and thank you and thank you.

the secondary purpose is to entertain you. sadly this year youve been more entertained than ive been laid. but as long as someone wins then im happy. this year has also been the most popular year ever for the busblog, which is bizarre because nothing crazy happened here this year. there were no scandals, there were no outrageous experiments, there werent even that many photo essays.

to me, the most interesting things that happened this year on the busblog is that i got fired from E!, quit Look Look, joined Buzznet, and somewhere along the way quit my 10 year pot habit. oh and i went to canada.

yes i introduced podcasting to the busblog this year, and ive improved on the photos thanks to a new camera and crazy wild access as ive i traveled to new york, chicago, and vancouver for your asses.

and starting tomorrow, now that ive secured a well-known housesitter, im going to hit the road again to take pictures and tell stories for you, my faithful readership.

yesterday i installed Sirius radio in my $800 car and the plan is to drive to San Francisco and party there tomorrow night, then head up the coast and hopefully make it to Koos Bay by Wednesday night, then spend the next few days with my xgirlfriend in my home away from home Umqua, Oregon, then if the roads are clear i want to drive up to Kurt Kobain’s former hometown of Seattle and Aberdeen.

then if things work out perhaps i will return to vancouver for a day or two.

so it dawned on me that if people are insisting on giving a gift to the busblog, heres what you can do: chip in for gas food or lodging.

i plan on staying in cheap hotels, meeting cheap girls, and eating at greasy spoons. but if i could stay at slightly better joints i could access the free wifi and upload my pics quicker.

if any of you would like to help out with that then killer, just paypal and in the Notes section leave your blog’s url and i’ll be sure to thank you and link to you while i travel.

if you cant pitch in please dont sweat it, this is in no way a hard sell or a plea and there are millions more-worthy people than me, but if for some reason you wanted to buy me a cd or a gift certificate to Best Buy and send it to 4845 fountain #15, LA, CA, 90029, all id say is thank you, however a mere flowage to the busblog would probably be more helpful.

this roadtrip hopefully will help segue into a bigger and better 2006.

i have some interesting new developments for the busblog starting early next year including a second blog. but dont tell anyone. but if you do tell them that the goal for this second blog is to be even better than the original busblog. and thats only one new development.

to me 2005 was all about upheaval and change and shedding the skin of 4 years at E! and landing in a far more nurturing place called Buzznet. and trust me when i tell you that in the same way that feeling oppressed and unloved at E! helped fuel the beginning of the busblog, feeling wanted and respected at buzznet is helping fuel the next phase of your favorite blog.

just please understand how appreciative i am to all of you. half the shit i do or get away with would have never been possible if you hadnt had my back. being a blogger can very much feel like being a voice in the wilderness, but because of you this particular blogger has a stronger megaphone and for that i thank you and thank you.

many people come to blogging as a springboard for fame, to get a better job, or to get their political agendas out there. i came to blogging and ive stayed in blogging simply to blog and to be a blogger. i have no other aspiration other than to be the best blogger i can possibly be. to me this is where its at and i wouldnt change places with anyone ever. so thank you for being here with me.

now watch me hit this drive.

zona boy + matt chokshi

my flesh had melted into my bone, i was on fire, and yet somehow i was shiverring.

i was greeted by a man in a Santa suit with a clipboard who extended his white gloved hand who said, “welcome to Hell.”

i shook his hand and a buzzer went off in my palm.

“i dont have time to give you the grande tour, my apologies, we have to get you suited up and we dont have much time.” he said.

i said a little prayer as we wound our way through the dark caves lit by torches and occasional flourescent tubes.

no need to pray down here, we can read your mind, and the prayers only go on your permanent record and used against you in nasty little ways, my guide esped to me and led me to a giant cave filled with Santa Claus suits.

quickly i can tell you the purpose of Hell, it’s not to punish you, it’s to torment the Creator. tomorrow is His birthday. it’s our assignment to water it down, to trivilize it, to ruin it, to distract people’s thoughts, to do everything we can to take the Holiness away from it and make it seem like a child’s birthday party.

but it is a child’s birthday party. it’s Je–

my mouth was zippered shut.

we dont say the J word down here.

my mouth was unzipped.

Xmas isnt just a child’s birthday, it’s a lot more than that, pastor, dont be coy. yes it’s Someone’s birthday, but we dont want it to be about Him we want it to be about every other child in the world Except Him. comprende?

i nodded.

Santa Claus is the greatest acheivement of Hell. we have successfully intergrated our fake-out on the entire planet. anywhere you go you are more likely to see a picture of the white jolly elf than the Creator of the Universe. even in Latin America where people name their children after the Messiah you will see Santa. Even in Bethlehem, even in church.

within minutes i was in the familiar jacket, boots, gloves, fake beard and cap. and i was loaded onto a bus and before i knew it i was back on Earth.

Home.

i couldnt speak the words that i wanted to.

i stood outside a shopping mall ringing a bell. people put money into my cauldron.

all i could say was ho ho ho.

because it wasnt Hell, i was capable of saying Merrrrrrry Christmas, but it was an ironic one. A celebration of theft. I thanked people for their money. It wasnt going to the poor or the sick or the needy. It was going to Hell. my new home.

after lunch i was collected, my money was counted and i was reassigned to the throne inside the mall where little kids sat on my lap and mothers cooed and fathers smiled for the first time in a long time.

pictures were taken and little kids told me what they wanted and i lied and told them that they would get everythign that they wanted.

were you a good little boy this year?

yes, Santa.

were you good to your mother and your father?

uh huh.

were you good to your brothers and your sisters?

i was good to my sister, but i dont gots any brothers.

did you clean up your room like a good boy?

i dont gots a room, santa claus. i sleep on the couch.

the little kid laughed like it was the silliest question ever.

i just wept.

but theres no crying in the Santa suit.

all that came out was ho ho ho.

flagrant + the pants + smelly + sunken