best living director

to everyone who was nice to me on my birthday and before my birthday and after my birthday. that goes to everyone who wrote me nice comments on here, on my myspace, and on my gay facebook which the whole world seems to be on now.

i want to thank everyone who came over to my place for my party, and for the people who surprised me on my birthday and showered me with gifts and love. i have always said that i have the best friends and its true. i do. when people jump off bridges or go into amish school houses with ky jelly and guns, or out covert cia agents because their husbands wrote op-ed pieces in the ny times, its probably because they dont have good friends to keep them grounded and feeling loved.

i also want to thank clipper girl for calling me throughout my cross country road trip and promising over several phone calls to make sweet love with me on my birthday, and then missing my party and calling me the next day, my actualy birthday, and having this exchange with me:

her: how was your party?
me: good. but i sorta expected you to be there.
her: yeah well i had another party to go to.
me: yes i know, and you said you’d come to mine afterwards, since mine started later.
her: yeah whatever.
me: was i crazy to expect you to come?
her: *click*

thank you for saving me from your diseased mouth and snatch. thank you for saving me from more boring and soulless sex, thank you for saving me from more selfish behavior on your part, and also thank you for saving me from being connected to anna kournikova through you. i look forward to this year being clean of you, your slutty cousin who kisses way better than you, and your ridiculous never-won-a-tennis-championship bff. i am always way too nice to all of you hos and in return you each treat me like shit, only interested in me when youre drunk horny and lonely and the homeless turn you down, again. all the worst to all of you.

id also like to thank my momma for the envelope full of money. i was going to use it for christina aguelera tickets today but then i realized that i will probably be in austin texas for sxsw. i guess i will have to see xtina, the pussycat dolls, and danity kane in some other locale than staples.

i learned many things from this trip. one of the lessons was, you think you know whats over that mountain, but you dont. it might be the endless stretches of utah, it might be the endless stretches of wyoming, or it might be the grand fucking canyon. but the only way you will ever find out whats over there is to go over there and check it out. read what wikipedia says about it later, but go there yourself, preferably alone, and examine it and figure it out yourself.

today im going to santa barbara to find out what the hells going on with my school.

fluent in java script as well as klingon

to post one of your favorite posts, which is something that i will do this evening, with some of my favorite olde pics:

i was dead. i was somewhere outside death valley california in a whorehouse.

kurt cobain was downstairs watching a cockfight. i had just played the a pinball machine that allowed me to tie up loose ends via some esp bullshit that allowed angels to read my mind and do whatever dirty deeds i hadn’t been able to complete before my untimely demise.

upon completion i got a high five from kurt, which i believe might just had been his very first high five ever, and i was escorted upstairs by

twin japanese catholic school runaways

with tattoos and wicked smiles on their faces.

the room we entered was perfumed and pink and soft and in the center was a round bed that rotated ever so slowly. mirrors everywhere, disco ball, disco music, fog machine, bubble machine, porn on twenty thirteen-inch tvs and shag carpet on the walls on the floors on the ceilings.

only rugs in the place, if you know what i mean.

the twins spoke simultaneously. one stroked my fro the other rubbed my feet. i reclined on the bed as they disrobed me and complimented my dull dough.

we like little bellies.

ooooo we like hair chests.

ooooooooooh we really like scars. that’s right you were in the xbi.

they were dripping. they were visually excited. cheeks flushed, nipples poking out from sheer nasty brasseries. they had garters with bows, chokers with leashes, thigh high boots, glitter, lip gloss, lust.

i was floating inches above the bed as were they so they strapped me down. and told me this.

this is the bonus round. welcome to the bonus round. here is the question, a question that you should know the answer to, and for each correct response, from out of that door will enter a woman, one more beautiful than the next, one more sultry and intelligent and wild and soothing. trust us when we tell you that you will love every moment with every woman and you will be able to have each of them all at the same time.

all we need to know from you is for you to name each of the ten commandments. for each one you get right, a woman will join us.

ah heaven, i said.

the one above fed me grapes. on earth i never liked grapes. in this room i loved them, the juices dripped down my cheek.

thou shalt not steal, i said.

a redhead with long legs, red all over, black stockings, high heels entered.

thall shalt not take the Lord’s name in vain.

blonde, blonde, white stockings, pink trim, white shoes, perky boobs, baby doll tshirt that said busblog preshrunk so as to allow her bellybutton to peek under.

was that a diamond in her belly pierce? of course it was.

honor your mother and father, keep the sabbath holy.

two punk rock girls crawled in like cats. one had dyed pink hair, the other dyed red. they made out with each other. their stockings were torn, their leather miniskirts shined in the flashing lights. they rolled around. they bit. they drew blood. they licked the blood and looked at me. i said hi. they growled.

don’t lust after your neighbor.

the twins looked at each other. a bell rang. the judges had accepted the answer.

a woman who looked just like lindsey lohan but not really walked through the door. she had on a long white fur. full length. diamond choker. she opened her coat. nearly blinded us all. whitest woman around. looked like a statue. gorgeous.

thou shalt not kill.

skaterchick with ripped jeans and a tight baseball shirt ollied over the writhing punkers and told me she read my blog every damn day.

have no other gods than the Lord

a lightskinned black woman who looked like a young mariah carey entered in a pink bikini. she sang like an angel. she told me that she would lick my entire body. i thanked her for the offer and said,

thou shalt not commit adultery.

and a woman who looked like a black Princess Diana appeared. sounded like her too. quite.

i counted nine girls. what could the tenth be?

the asian princesses told me that if i got this one right that i could spend the entire day with all of the women and unlike on earth there would be no “down time” and gazed down at “little tone” which had never looked so majestic and wonderful.

the women who had lined up for me couldn’t stand still. they all wanted me so badly. they whispered some of the poems i had written and touched themselves. some touched each other.

for the life of me i couldn’t remember the last one.

and then, i said,

do not bear false witness upon your neighbor.

and they came charging at me, and trailing the pack, was a woman who looked just like marilyn monroe, who, when she entered floated slowly past the others and landed next to me and kissed me right on the forehead.

and unlatched my restraints.

which is why i had to lie all those years and say i was 108 when i was actually much younger.

but since tomorrow is a milestone of sorts, the powers that be decided that it would reveal that im not about to turn 114, but an even 100.

so i figured id beat them to it. so there.

now, since its now ok in this post to tell the truth, i can tell you that the best thing that i learned on my roadtrip is that an old car can really make it around this country pretty well.

it started as a 114k mile nissan sentra. and is now in the 120’s. and all i had to do was check its oil every other fillup.

it took hills fine, the breaks were good, and the Sirius satellite stereo worked pretty much everywhere except under overpasses and in garages.

i learned that God and Jesus are all over the usa. in weird places like billboards advertising motels. im as big a Jesus freak as the next guy but i dont need a fish symbol inder the AAA logo. but thanks.

in my 100 years, my favorite time was probably the 80s. the bears won the superbowl, the cubs were in the playoffs twice, the bulls were begining their domanance. music was creative, metal was huge, gas was cheap, and weird things like the tuition at santa monica college was $50 a quarter.

ah the 80s. it was good to be 80 in the 80s.

that whole time i didnt have a gray hair. then bush came and forget black or gray, i just lost all of it.

im old but i still havent seen the cubs win the world series and thats not a good thing because it looks like theyre going backwards, not forwards.

ernie banks used to say that sometimes you have to back up to get a good running start, and i hope thats the case.

so tonight i will prepare for letting new girls know that theyre standing in front of their opportunity to kiss a hundred year old man. which is pretty awesome if you think about it.

heres to another century of easy livin.

tp

i wouldnt want to read LAist.” to them i say, then youre missing out bubba.

Here’s some of what was covered just yesterday:

– Yes on Prop 89, and not just because the LA Times and other Big Businesses are against it.
– Some people still don’t believe, even after a jury says he did it on purpose, that an old man would plow through a crowd of youngins on purpose.
– Michael J. Fox wants Missouri to get their heads out of their asses.
– “Marie Antoinette” probably sucks
– While everyone else has to schlep around in clubs, Bob Dylan can quietly still sell out the Forum.
– When cops raid your office your press conference about running for Congress is probably postponed.
– There will be hot lesbo action on the new Real World
– Fraggle Rock will probably stay weird.
– Even John Lennon’s son gets played by the ladies.
– The GOP do believe in Cut & Run.
– If you’re old and white and live in Santa Monica, you still don’t have to come to court even if you get tried and convicted for killing 10 people.
– There’s nothing hotter than a USC cheerleader, except maybe two UCLA cheerleaders screwing in a lightbulb.
– NBC is in some deep fucking shit.
– Lesbianism continues to sweep the land.

photo by ⓢⓤⓟⓔⓡⓜⓞⓓ via flickr

to ask me to write something about a tom waits song on his blog.

last night i was drunk and tired and not in the best shape to write about anything but when you write about tom waits its ok to be a little out of sorts i think. anyways, it wasnt about chocolate jesus, above, from the old school david letterman show

it was about a track from franks wild years, still my favorite tom waits album.

as i understand it, theres gonna be a triple-cd coming out of miscellaneous tracks called Orphans and you can hear one of the songs here: Bottom of the World. pretty much better than everything thats out right now. imagine that.

but i drank alot so that was nice. the chick who hung out with me the night i returned home from the road trip called me today to say that it was over between us and i was all thats fine. especially two days from my birthday. super nice.

then she followed it up with an email asking me what i wanted for my birthday.

rich girls who may or may not feel guilty shouldnt really ask people what they want for their birthday since in LA the sky just might be the limit.

but she knows me well enough to know that theres very little that i ask for in life other than a disease free dance parnter now and then, and high speed internet access at all times.

i asked her for a link from her blog.

my mom asked me what i wanted a few weeks ago and i said nothing and she said make an amazon wish list and i did in protest. although it is linked on the left there. no pressure, just sayin. in truth theres pretty much nothing that i want other than peace and quiet. i thought of two books i want to write now.

and i started a new idea the other day.

when the chickie wrote back to me saying that she couldnt link me from her blog because it was tied to the reason why she couldnt dance around on my coffee table any more i asked her to see what she could do about getting flagrant to link to me, if not forever, on my birthday.

am i happy that lou pinella is manager of the cubs? i would have preferred joe girardi since i liked what he did with the no name marlins. however if having pinella means that the cubs will get either a-rod or ichiro i will be happy. although id rather the cubs persue some pitching.

am i happy that christina aguilera tickets go on sale monday at 10am.

since that is the morning after my birthday it will be interesting to see if i wake up in time and remember.

madpony + funny LAist story + rapotblog

remind me never to drink so much that im the drunkest irishman at a pogues show. shane mcgowan, one of my all time heroes has damaged himself so much that not even a stage full of excellent musicians could help him stand up, speak, or keep it together.

he slurred so badly that not even his band knew what song he was calling out. “this ones called mrrrrrrrhhhhhhhahhhhhh”. which made the band break into “A Pair of Brown Eyes.”

and almost like a stutterrer who sings plainly when he breaks into song, Shane somehow only missed about 25% of the words, but when he sang it was crusty and rickety but solid. he sang two songs, insulted the audience, and walked off to refill his water bottle full of gin. then the band played a tune without him and he’d return for two more tunes and another exit.

the crowd didnt seem to care, which was nice, but this blogger did as it was breaking my heart. i listen to the pogues at least twice a week if not more. particularily if im writing something indepth that requires spell checking and facts. theres nothing better than that traditional irish music sung by that hapless drunk.

to me shane is a true punk rocker. he seriously doesnt give a fuck. he is so loved that they sold out 4 nights here in LA. three at the wiltern and one in the oc.

far be it for me to say “sober up, drunky” but i cant imagine wanting to see that sort of trainwreck again.

tonight im going to the beach to hang with anti and tanky and the pacific. then i will go see a show. maybe rancid who i love. maybe boyz II men. maybe bo brice at the ventura theatre. anything but my hero who is one big boozing fiesta away from the grave.

dont ever listen to me whine. ive told you that a million times but here you are listening. shut your ears. its not gonna be pretty.

all i wanna do is sleep. im so dumb. every day almost for a month i was out and about and driving and falling asleep at the wheel or eating something or checking out of a room or checking into a room. but today i slept in as late as i wanted i did whatever i wanted and now i dont wanna do the thing that i came back to LA to do: see one of my alltime favorite bands ever: The Pogues at one of my all time favorite places The Wiltern.

on top of it this hot chick got me to do two things i didnt wanna do. you know youre old when you dont have a facebook profile. so she rolled off me this morning and said i looked for you on facebook and you dont have one, why? and i said cuz youre a fraction of my age. and its only for college kids. and she said nuh huh its open to anyone now. and i was all good for you now do that thing you did last night.

and she did and later when she was leaving she said quick lets get you signed up and i had work to do. i had hella blog posts to write for LAist cuz for some reason everyone took the day off of writing for LAist today so i wrote something crazy like seven posts. and she asked me every personal question imaginable. i was all YOU TELL FACEBOOK ALL THAT INFO? i drew the line when she asked me my cell phone number. but she just flipped open her sidekick and typed it in and suddenly i had gotten a page and i was fucked. now facebook knows my everything. and it emailed like so many people from my gmail so if i bothered you im sorry. i dont even wanna be on that thing.

whats the other thing she did to me today. oh yeah she didnt get me the weed i requested from texas. when someone says yes i will get naked with you even though youre 18 yrs old and i dont do 18 yr olds anymore but i will if you have a huge sack of weed waiting, have the weed waiting. its not cute to get tony pierce mad. i know everyone thinks its like the funniest thing omg ever but its not. there are lots of bridges for me to jump off of and i know that if i ever do it its gonna be because of a tiny college girl with absolutely no body fat and less pubic hair.

girls today think that everything revolves around sex and that may have been the case when i was a younger man but im a senior citizen now. ive seen and done it all. theres no fucking chick that can make me jump through a hoop for sex no matter what she promises unless it includes every single one of the dallas cowboy cheerleaders in uniform. sorry but heres what motivates me nowadays: silence, housekeeping, early morning blowjobs, and writing well for LAist. and no, blowjobs isnt sex so shhh.

she did something else to me and now i cant remember what. bitch. OH YEAH she made me throw a birthday party for myself and then “remembered” that she was going out of town. so now im having a birthday party in my house, something im pretty much against, ive invited tons of people, i barely even wanna be there cuz im gonna be pooped and a horrible host, and shes not gonna blow me when the clock strikes midnight infact i wouldnt be surprised if i never see her again.

so if you live in LA and didnt get an evite or a gmail email from me today and you wanna come to the bash, email me and i will send you the directions. i think i turn 115 or some shit. and now im late for the pogues so hasta.