train broke down at wilshire and vermont.

the train in front of us. just like last week.

this time i knew better and went upstairs at vermont and beverly and waitied for the bus.

no bus came, so i went back down to the train and waited it out.

Tall Skinny Girl was there. everyone was there. everone was waiting for the train in front of us to get the hell out of the way.

At Wilshire Vermont theres this crazy corner. i’ve told you that its an S curve that makes screechy noises when you go through it. lately theyve been going real slow through it. but for some reason this train guy who keeps breaking down through it isnt going slowly.

fucks up your day when you then have to get off the train a second time and hop a Vermont bus to the Wilshire bus and continue your commute.

makes you want to hiss at the Mexican lady selling tamales from a cooler atop a baby carriage.

my shower has been a dripping mess.

you’d think with 4 bedrooms and 5 1/2 baths, I wouldnt care so much about the shower in the master bath, but i do. it’s my favorite. at first it was a slow drip. then it became a steady stream. the landlord promised to come over and fix it since he pays for the water and he came over two weekends ago and found Ashley there and said, “wow, you’re a lot prettier than I expected.”

he expected me, but was greeted by ashley in a sundress. i look pretty in a sundress too, but lets get back to the story. the story of my shower.

landlord didnt fix the shower that day, he told ashley how wonderful my fireplace was, how it was the best one he’d seen for such an old hollywood villa. she smiled. she’s always smiling.

when i came home we inspected the shower and noticed that the stream had increased. the hot water had created much steam in the sad blue bathroom, so we changed into towels and read the newspaper while smoking cigars and enjoyed our new hippy sauna.

last night i came home and the cheerleaders had all dispersed. as has become my ritual, i poked my head into the bathroom to see the state of the drip. to my surprise i noticed a stray cheerleader enjoying the week-old sauna while smoking a cigar and reading one of my secret notebooks.

“welcome home,” she said.

only in my life would a situation like this be a bad thing.

first of all, i didnt remember her name. secondly, i had a hot date and being carless, she was to pick me up. thirdly, she was smoking my last cigar.

“thank you, red, what a pleasant surprise to see you here.” i said and put down my briefcase and unholstered my . 45.

“why are you surprised, i was here this morning when you left.” she said and turned the page in my notebook.

i had been showering at the gym after work and i went to my room to empty out my stinky clothes. when i opened my bedroom door i was more stunned than when i had opened my bathroom door, the room was immaculate.

“i tidied up for you.” she yelled from the folding chair in the shower.

not only were all the clothes, books, magazines, condoms, newspapers, cds, and beer bottles nicely tucked away in all the appropriate places, but the drapes were open, the shelves had been dusted and candles were softly flittering around my suddenly handsome quarters.

it made me want to nap.

the ecstasy the night before made me want to nap, but knowing that i didnt have to clean before my hot date really made me want to climb underneath my electric blanket and take a power nap until i was to be picked up for my mexican fiesta.

so i undressed.

when i turned around i noticed that the cheerleader had finished her sauna and was attempting to join me in my siesta.

“im sorry sweetheart, you’ve got to go. i appreciate all that you did here but it was so unneccessary.”

“i know,” she said, “but i wanted to do it for you. you were so nice to all of us last night.”

“ok good, well, heres a hug. i really have to take a nap right now, not everyone got to sleep in this morning.”

“dont you want me to nap with you?” she asked.

“no no, not necessary. thank you, though.”

“well my friend isnt going to pick me up for about an hour, would you like for me to clean your kitchen?” she asked. she was wearing my robe. my robe seemed quite pleased.

“ok look, if your friend is really going to be here in one hour and not one and a half hours or two hours, then yes, you can nap with me, but no talking and no funny business.”

she disrobed and slid into my sheets.

of course i had my Dilbert glow-in-the-dark boxers on and i tried to be suave and slip them off with my cords but im not as graceful as you’d think. somehow i made it in my bed.

it was hard to sleep. we spooned. i looked at the clock radio. she held my hand in hers under her cheek. little tone was trying to get closer to her, so i changed positions.

now she was pressed against my back and her arms were around me.

this is nothing how i imagined it in grade school.

she whispered in my ear, “did you enjoy sleeping with me last night?”

“i dont remember much of last night.”

“dont worry, you were a perfect gentleman.”

“we didn’t…”

“everything but.”


“you dont remember the hay and the trick ropes?”


“you dont remember the whipped cream and the bongos?”

“uh, no.”

“you dont remember the ‘Pictionary’ competition?”

“i just remember pom poms.” i wispered back.

“thats good, at least you remember some of it then.”

i tried to keep quiet. totally impossible.

“are you in love with this girl?” she whispered, annoyed.

“which girl?”

“the girl you have plans with tonight.”

“i think she’s spectacular.”

“is she as pretty as i am?”

“all the girls in california are beautiful,” i answered.

it was quiet, so quiet i could hear the radio playing a stevie nicks song next door at my neighbor’s house.

the steady stream of water in the shower was soothing and made up for the mildew collecting on the window pane and soon i was asleep and soon i was awake and soon my date had arrived with a long sleeve surfer shirt with the word “free” printed on the front.

she has a magic spell on me, one that prevents me from looking at her for too long or sitting too close to her. a spell that makes me smile like a fool nonstop.

i wanted to show her my sauna, but i wanted to leave the house quickly before the cheerleader had become aware of my disappearance.


The pool that you have displayed

on your site today is where Janice and I got our life guarding certification before we headed up to Susanville for a crazy summer of life guarding in a small town.

I love that pool and that particular view of Santa Barbara.

Thank you for putting it on your site.

I love you Tony and the next time I am there I will watch IVTV with you.

I haven’t until now because I love that place and while most of it was good some of it makes me sad.

But, I’ve been really stupid about it and for that I’m sorry I’ve been sort of mean about it.

It’s hump day.



p.s. when are you going to start movie nights? i want to come.

i promise to bring lots of yummy microwave popcorn.

What are you doing for the Super Bowl?

I think Katie is having a party at her pad. Please go.

Your friends will be there.

Besides it will be a fun game even if it will be a blowout.

i’ve been into football this season and i would like to watch it.

i have $5.00 in our office pool. NEVER, ever have I ever put my name in a grid

with the hope of winning some money in every quarter of a football game.

Anyhow, stay warm and toasty.


a gaggle of cheerleaders

bum rushed my back door as I was taking out the trash last night to my surprise. they had picnic baskets with tasty foods, thermoses full of tangy fruit drinks and wines, bales of hay and trick ropes for entertainment, and of course pom-poms and silly string and ecstasy and chewing gum.

there were so many of them that it was hard to get anyone’s names and im so bad at remembering one or two people’s names at a party that this amount was just ridiculous to even attempt so i just smiled and called everyone honey and sweetie and blondie and red. they called me sweetheat and turned down the lights, turned off the tv, turned off the computer, locked the doors and windows, took a wrench to the dripping shower and busted with the whippits.

life is a delicious waltz filled with clutzy gentlemen and the same old friut punch. it takes more, sometimes, than a squirt of lime to get the party started proper and if weren’t for the strands of pom poms on the floors and the snoring heaps of blankets snoozing on available floorspace, i would have thought it was all a dream this morning, but isnt everything a dream?

i left a note for the girls on the television wishing them a happy day and to ignore the mess and how to lock up the house but i was late for work and couldnt start the coffee. i hope they understood.

sometimes when youre late the busses and trains will help you out, but not this morning.

my arch enemy, this guy who i hate who rubs me the wrong way was at my bus stop. it’s sort of who Brad Pitt was to the guy in Fight Club, his alter-ego. this is my nerdy ego who reminds me of all the nerdy dorky dumb things in my personality that i try to ignore. he’s only at my busstop when im late. he is so creepy. so of course he was acting all creepy as i waited and waited in the brisk sun of todays wintery los angeles morn.

the bus arrived packed with late losers alike and we made it more packed. stuffed with humanity the bus rolled on and i wondered how much they paid off the guy to tell the supreme court that the LA bus system was ok and had enough vehicles despite being terribly short for years and years.

got off at the stop, walked the five-six blocks to the job and thought about Welch’s fine rememberance of the Daily Nexus and I hope all of you either have a Nexus in your past or are having one now or are about to have one, because it was a spectacular experience.

and just as i thought that, i saw a man naked from the shirt down crouching behind a row of bushes in front of an Office Depot right behind a bus stop bench. he was going number two, i believe. i wondered if he had tp. i wondered if people knew there would be human poop in the bushes as they waited for the number 21. i wondered if even this could dampen my fine spirits.

and i got on the elevator in my place of employment and i sat down at my cubicle and i fired up the machine and i began to type to you.

and i read an email that a young lady wrote to me about how she fantasized about anna and martina in the locker room after their match and my day had officially begun.

see, i go out of my house on a Friday night and it starts of a chain reaction

of similar impossibilities that hopefully will end with a series of resignations in Washington D.C., starting with the Commander-and-Theif.

Impossibility number one: It snows in Frisco. From Santa Cruz to Napa the frosty white stuff made an appearance sending the hippies wild and the bums to their immediate deaths.

dumbmonkey and i have linked each other for a little while now, but i am happy to see that he has a story and a byline and a link and lots of pictures to prove this magical feat

My mother loves to talk about the weather and I hate to talk it because it usually tells me that theres nothing else to discuss. But I promise you very few things in this blog, but I will always report on the activities of Anna, Mariah, and any snow conditions that may transpire in the 415.

Just this morning I chose the wool-lined Levi’s jacket since the brisk January air reminded me of highschool ski trips to Michigan, and less like the southern california warmth that we enjoyed only a few days ago.

What’s with the crazy weather? Who the hell cares. It’s a great excuse to wear mittens on the bus and crank up the fireplace.

truth is stranger than fiction and sometimes it’s nicer too.

rarely do i leave the complex to hob-nob with the working class but sometimes the invitiation is so inviting and im insppired to break from tradition and actually leave the damn house.

friday night i ventured into the Laurel Canyon just beyond Mt. Olympus to the sprawling grounds of Brian Linse who hosted such a nice sweet party that i couldn’t even believe it.

normally when the premise is that several big name web loggers are going to meet one another, the results can be scary. nobody cool writes on a blog on the Internet, do they? of course not.

but i have been pleasantly surprised in the past by what has come my way via the www and friday was no exception.

the host and all of his guests were not only as interesting as their writing, but polite, and smart and fun and more social than i expected. the nerd-factor was there but only because i was in attendence and the wine was delicious.

i can’t guarantee that i will be more social in 2002, but this was a fabulous start and it reminded me why i need to venture out more often as the universe is abundant, generally with wonderful and intelligent souls.

and what do you know, i got home before my pumpkin tuned into a snoop de ville and had enough time to play on my little computer and pass out in a smelly mess in front of the roaring fire only to be awaken by the four am thump of saturday’s paper arriving at my doorstep.

saw “the others” on saturday and was also, thoroughly impressed.

wanna have a good cry at your office cubicle?

then go to the Presidio Pet Cemetary. in lots of ways, San Francisco is just a larger Isla Vista in that it has more curious, crazy, wonderful, lovely things, all squeezed into a ridiculously small area. And the Presidio, now opened to the public, thanks to military budget cuts, thanks to the fall of the Soviet empire, thanks to Bill Clinton, a hem, is turning out to be the best kept secret in Frisco, despite the movie that no one saw called, “The Presidio.”

Don and Jen got hitched there, Chris worked there, I even got paid to update a web site for a non-profit there. It’s home to the coolest Burger King in America, and who knew it has one of the most charming pet cemetary in town. It may have the only pet cemetary in town since Frisco put a moratoreium on cemetaries way back when it became obvious that they were running out of space for people who were still alive (the locals are usually laid to rest in the neighboring Daly City, which boasts more dead people than living ones.).

One of the markers grieves the long-departed Coco, who passed on in 1925(!), which is the oldest stone you’ll see on the web site.

Sorta makes me want to have a pet so i can bury him in a nice place one day.

when anna calls it always disturbs me, somehow.

I think it’s her accent. I love accents, but I’ve never gotten used to hers. It sounds like she’s always mad at me. What does she have to be mad at me for?

“We won the doubles championship in Melbourne today,” she informed me last night at, oh, three a.m. pacific time.

“Doubles are for girls,” I said.

“Why can’t you ever support the things that I do?” she whined.

“I do, I talk about you all the time. I think you really can win a singles tourney, that’s why I tease you.”

“Yeah, well it hurts. You could at least congratulate me.”

“Congratulations, Anna, princess of St. Petersburg.”

“I’m from Moscow. I mean, I don’t write you and complain that you have a ‘BusBlog’ and you never write about riding the bus anymore!” she said.

Two mexican kids were on the subway this morning. One of the kids was about five years old, the other was maybe one years old.

Anna doesn’t like it when I grammar bad. She says it confuses her since she’s trying to iron out her English. But I can’t help it. I have this weird thing where I mimic whoever I’m listening to. I try to be a good listener, but in fact I’m a terrible listener.

The older Mexican kid was licking the metal pole on the subway car, the one that everyone holds on to as the train is jerking and making it’s way through the city.

The younger kid was idolizing his older brother. The younger kid was sitting on his mama’s lap. He had a cute little pacifier in his mouth. Some of my hippy friends who have kids don’t believe in the pacifier. They call it a plug.

“I’m not putting a plug in my child’s mouth,” they say.

The mexican kid with the plug was watching intently as his brother licked the pole and then the little kid playfully punched the pole. His older brother kept licking.

When I least expected it, the baby thrust his head at the pole in order to lick it too. His plug hit the pole squarely, as did his cute little mexican kid babyhead. His brother backed away. The baby didnt cry.

A woman sitting next to me, holding her newborn said something in Mexican to the young mother. The older brother went back to licking the pole. The baby went back to watching his brother. Then he went back to punching the pole.

Then my stop arrived and I exited and walked up the stairs.

home | email | this guy linked me this week | this guy did too | tiny little penis wrote me a nice email | and im waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay at the bottom of this one