Dear Sonny,

ive been after this hot girl for a while, i think she likes me, but she has this habit of blowing me off. last night i call her, we talk for a few minutes, she says she has to go, can she call me back? i say yes, she never calls me back. what gives? – adam

Adam,

If you’re in high school, let this be a lesson to you, if you’re out of high school, you should have learned this already. the girl isnt into you. if you were marky mark, she’d have called your sorry ass back. my advice, forget her and move on to some other hot girl. i cant say you’ll have better luck, because all girls are trouble, but theres a reason why the Good Lord populated this planet full of hotties. ps. i bet shes not even that hot.

Sonny,

Why doesn’t Anna listen to you and wear the white top and the blue shorts like she did in Acapulco when she was winning? – Bill

Bill,

chicks have a mind of their own. who knows what they’re thinking half the time? their mothers dont know, their friends dont know. the only people who probably know are their hairdressers and they’re gay and couldnt care less. Anna lost last night in Miami in straight sets to a teenager. I think she just wants to go into acting, but first she ought to act like a tennis player.

Sonny,

What did Tony really take to fix his sore back? – Larry

Larry,

Tony rested, he took anti-inflamatories like Advil, then he rested some more. It was a peice of cake.

Sonny,

Why does Tony only ask for a buck for his Snoop DeVille? Doesn’t he know that PayPal takes .33 out of the first buck that gets sent to him and then 3% thereafter? That means if he gets a buck from someone he’s only getting 66 cents. How dumb! He should ask for $1.35 from people or $2. And did JC really give him a buck every day for 14 days? – Bill

Bill,

Tony is aware of the PayPal fees and doesnt seem to care. It’s all free money to him and he likes to keep things simple. And yes, JC gave him a buck every day for two weeks. And RG has just given him a buck two days in a row, which he is very very thankful. Anyhow, he’s just happy that people care enough to give.

Sonny,

Why is that fool doing a baseball blog. I mean, it’s so dumb! – Audrey

Audrey,

Baseball Blog 2002 is a smashing success. Daily readers were lucky enough to follow the ongoing saga of Jeff Kent lying about his wrist injury, a Minnesota columnist calling a state senator a weenie, and a larger than life scan of the man that Muhammed Ali just called ugly like Joe Frasier.

Miss a day, and you miss everything. Stick with it, the season is almost here.

Have a great weekend! Go see Blade 2.

for a while above the poll someone wrote “4:20 doodie club” and the maintence people would scrub the wall each evening but they would leave the title up there.

this morning’s poll was “Would you do Pam Anderson with Hep C?” some guy wrote “already did, xoxo Kid Rock.”

How did i vote? well, just like for the presidential election, there is a reason why there is a door, a lock, and absolute privacy, so i reserve the right to keep my vote to myself. not that Pam is having problems finding people to oogle her.

my mom called this morn and there was a young girl sleeping beside me who grumbled “who is it?” i said, “yeah, mom, yeah mom.”

my mom was calling to see if i had received my package of gym clothes from Target. she had inadvertantly shipped them to the wrong zip code.

the young girl pouted and turned away from me.

then my mom went on to tell me that she wasn’t going to give me quite a big Easter basket this year because i always give the stuffed animals to young ladies and cuz i always share the candies with the homeless.

“ok, mom, sounds good.”

then she went on to tell me that my sister isnt having the smoothest pregnancy and i should pray for her.

which brings me to the point of this story.

when a hot chick ends up spending the night with me, i hardly ever say my prayers and i need to adjust that. usually i either pass out in a heap or im cuddling or shes talking and we’re tangled or something, but rarely do you get one of those, “good night, mariah” “good night, tony.” which is when i usually start my prayers. but somewhere down the line the hotties stopped saying good night to me when they sleep over.

they just say, “god, that was amazing.”

and drift off with the angels.

speaking of angels, thanks RG, for the buck for the Snoop Fund

and i woulda gone but i was flat on my back being attended to by a girl who wouldnta even been allowed to deliver the roses and whiskey that i would have sent with her since she’s isnt old enough to get into the club that hosted the fiesta.

doug and i go back to the KCSB days and i never knew that he was that much older than me because he had the same sarcastic wit and love for cheap cold beer served from kegs at pizza shacks disguised as restaurants. i will never be able to thank doug for making me feel at home at KCSB, for stopping me in the street and pointing at me and saying that he heard my show that morning (i was on 6-9am) and saying how good it was.

this was a guy who pretty much hated everything. the music that people played on the radio, the things we wrote about in the newspaper, the tshirts i probably wore. he was (and is, he’s 40, not dead) the protypical Punk: he made his own fashions, cut his hair the way he saw fit, sported a buzz cut and dark glasses. and his radio show was so good that before i made my way to bed with my girlfriend at the time, i would turn the radio on to hear if Doug’s rock show would be on.

i remember one night the plan was that me and my girlfriend were going to make beautiful love before calling it a night. i turned on the radio for some background noise and the noise was doug’s show and i asked my girl if it would be ok if we postponed the festivities until the show as over. and as she did her homework topless in the bed, i sat crosslegged staring at my clockradio with my hands on my chin, just as if it were the 50s, when doug was being born.

im sorry i missed the bash, but im glad that marc brown was there, and casey and some of the regulars of Spaceland. we have an american hero with our pal Doug and im glad that im not the only one who appreciates his presence.

have a bunch of rock stars invade their city this time of year for the rock n roll hall of fame.

for some reason im not a big fan of the rock and roll hall of fame.

i am happy that this year the ramones, and tom petty and the talking heads were allowed in, but it’s a weird hall of fame. the weirdest ive ever seen. seems to me that you should have to have a fist fight to get in. it also seems like no one is geniunely happy when they get in except for the old washed up blues singers who got all of their money stolen away from laywers and shady managers but who still have those golden pipes.

im still waiting until ac/dc and the replacements get it.

go to any sporting arena: major league baseball, football, hockey, basektball. they will play more ac/dc than any other band.

back in black is 22 years old for pete sake.

im at work.

the back is 85%, my good pal Ian has a grandmother with a medicine cabinet full of expired prescriptions. he made his way through them after he found out that my doctor sent me home without seeing me yesterday.

i had called Cinica Del Americas at around 11am yesterday, i said i would like to have a prescription for Vicadin. they said you had to see the dr first. i said ok. so i took a shower and brushed my teeth and hobbled over there with the aid of ashley who likes to wear super short shorts and cutoff shirts and big clompy shoes and her hair down when the sun is bright and warm like it was yesterday.

he helped me cross the street and go down the two blocks to the doctor.

get to the window and the women dont even want to look at me. they say, its too late. if you had been here before noon he could have seen you, but it’s after noon, he cant see you now till 4pm.

i saw a kid sitting on the chair next to his father. the father was looking at ashley. her little belly button was revealed. the little kid was making an outline of my posture and writing it in his book.

he wrote the first 7 of his entire life.

his father didnt even notice.

so we walked to wendy’s to have a sandwich. i got a bacon cheeseburger and “chips chili and cheese” which looks exactly like what nachos look like vomited up and collected in a plastic container.

it should be marketed as the first fast-food product guaranteed to look grosser going down, than it would coming back up.

we made it back home and ian came over with a collection of little plastic bottles of grandma love and after he left ashley did a little dance of good tidings and we fell asleep before even watching david letterman.

and here i am before you, not a girl, not quite a woman.

the back is at about 75%, it’s amazing to see the human body heal itself with the absence of human medications, if you dont count rum and pizza, but i really have to go to work tomorrow and i am betting that if i plead to my doctor at Clinica Del Americas – the official physician of the xbi – that perhaps he will offer me up something a little more powerful than Tylenol.

ive learned a lot during this black weekend. first of all, i refuse to get old. if walking around bent over is what aging is about, count me out. i’d rather join the taliban re-election committe. i’m going to be in the gym three days a week minimum. i dont care what hot babes are waiting for me right after work, if an hour every other day will keep me away from the cane or the walker, then thats what it’ll have to be.

ive also learned that i need a new doctor, and sadly enough, this is what it might take for me to go back to the bureau.

i dont know if you remember it, but there appears to be a pattern in this nonsense that makes it act up this time of year. and even though it seems like a million years ago that i worked for the “good” guys, they sure know how to keep their agents on the streets and i appreciate that.

i also appreciate the daisy princess who has been tending to me over the last few days, making sure that i had food to eat and drink to drink and makes sure to remind me that my stubble is death to her delicate skin.

our love is a forbidden one and it will probably not last past opening day, but for the time that she was here with me during this, some of my darkest hours, i will be forever indebited to her grace, kindness and selflessness.

last night we watched the Simpsons and then “Bandits” and i fell asleep during the film, but what i saw i liked and what i slept through, ashley swears i would have liked too. ok, my limo is here, wish me luck good people. and if you ever see me acting like Eddie Vedder, music’s answer to Russell Crowe, kick me in the shins and rip a hair from my nostril.

had a few glasses of cuban rum and a sausage and pepperoni pizza and watched “falling down” with michael douglas. now im watching “mixed nuts” which is a pretty rotten movie but has an unbelieveable cast: steve martin, juliette lewis, adam sandler, gary shandling, rob reiner, parker posey, jon stewart, joely fischer, steven wright, madeline kahn, robert klein, and even though it was made in 1994 and you wouldnt think he was even alive yet: haley joel osment.

it’s a christmas movie set on venice beach.

i was looking for a blank tape.

this is what happens when you can’t get up to find the remote.

this movie proves that you could have all the most talented people in the whole world in one movie and it can still be a horrible movie whose only really funny moments are adam sandler singing songs in his worst Opera Man rip-off.

this movie makes me want to get up and turn it off. but i cant.

i think it has ended. one of the most cliche and terrible endings of all.

oh no, its not the end. just a horrible false ending.

oh wait, it has ended.

the real ending is even worse than the false ending.

i would do anything to be at work right now.

thank you TF for another buck to the Snoop Fund.

one of the problems about being 108 years old is that when you bend over to remove a slice of pizza from the box your back can collapse.

i havent worked out in two weeks and you’d think that your body would give you a break, but such are the penalties of decadence.

whenever i think of bad backs i think of kurt cobain because the word is that he had a bad back and a rotten stomach which is what eventually led him to heroin which led to him being dead in the ground.

but right now i need vicodin like crazy, and oddly enough, but jeanine has the most amazing medicine cabinet, and today is st. patrick’s day which, oddly enough is our anniversary – eleven years ago we fell in love. (nine years ago she got over it) but anyway, jeanine was called, we wished each other happy anniversary and she said that she had no vicodin but these nurses who she totally went to vegas with last week and were all comped suites at the flamingo might have a few samples laying around.

by the way, people of the world, i do have health insurance. i do have a good job that for a small fee gives me some of the best health insurance of all. but to get the vicodin i would have to go to the emergency room and sit in their seats for about 3 hours and then get charged $75 to probably get a prescription for Alleve, no vicodin for you. even though im an adult, and perfectly reasonable, and certainly not addicted to vicodin, thank you.

and they tell you that things like vicodin could be addictive and i say, dating hot chicks could be addictive too, but you simply dont fall in love with every girl you go out with.

sadly.

so im begining to wonder what someone has to do or who do they have to know to get the proper medications when they know in their heart that they could use them?

and remember when i told you the value of friendships?

the back is a tad better than yesterday but yesterday, it’s the reason you shouldnt feel sorry for me.

yesterday i was totally dying and ashley was sleeping and she and i constantly fight over who will have control over my computer so i like to go on it when shes asleep and let her have it when shes up. but for some reason i had to put up a little something for the weekend and it turned out to be oh, about 50 pages.

when i was done my back hated me. so i hated it back by throwing a little love at Baseball Blog 2002.

this is my life.

im sure someone passing by my window would see the Scientologists jogging around their complex, the weekend autobody shop workers using the band saw across my brick wall, and Ashley rubbing the sleep from her light blue eyes at 2:20pm and think that im just living the finest life of all times.

well you’d be right.

and as soon as jeanine and those nurses and those vicadin arrive maybe i’ll float over your house and i’ll wave.

he is the inventor of the marshall amps that you see behind all the great rock stars from ac/dc to weezer, nirvana, and tsar.

he didnt die yesterday. today isnt his birthday. he didnt win any medal.

sometimes it’s nice to spotlight good people for just being good people and adding their little coolness to the beef stew of love that i hope youre partaking in today.

just because my life seems to be pretty mundane and happy and normal doesnt mean that everyone’s life is. some very good people are having some very hard times and trust me when i tell you that i think that sometimes im the luckiest person in the world.

im not talking about being named Blog of the Day, or getting $5 from TF a day after he gave me a buck for the SDV. Those things are totally unexpected and really nice.

i think im lucky because i have had some super close friends for 10 years, some for 15 years, and a couple for 20 years now and i dont know why the hell they dont teach you in school about how to do your taxes, or fix your car, but they really should stress the importance of real true friendships because those are what keeps you sane and what inspires you and what makes you superfuckingrad when you feel like you’re supershittyshitty.

i also think they should make you read the Bible and teach you how to play guitar, but we’ll save that for another day.

I have one request. And you dont have to do it. I have a friend who is having a tough time with her true love. She says that she is sick of hearing all these sticky sweet love songs on the radio and she would like for me to make her a cd of pop, rock, whatever, of songs that have nothing to do with love or war.

email me at heytony@hotmail.com with your song suggestions and perhaps it will make it on the cd.

I will post the list of songs on here in the next few days.

Pray for the Gauchos, tonight vs AZ, they’re going to need it.

P.S. Blogger was down for most of today so sorry for the lack of posts.

but fuck Sonny.

“What ever happened to Babe Blog?” he chides, referring to the daily blog of several pictures of hot chicks that he dreamed up for me last month.

“Because there isn’t enough porn on the web”

Oh, you mean the blog about Molli and Greg’s unborn babe thats about minus 7 months old right now? Another grand idea I had. By the way, mad props to Greg for the ride home last night.

“No, the Chick Blog – hot chicks every day, with all the facts and all that!” he says.

I’m mad at Sonny cuz he’s never pleased with what i do.

At first he wanted tons of pictures and stories about Ashley, then he said he didnt want any, now he wants tons again. I hate him cuz his logic is pretty hard to argue against, but it’s always changing.

Plus he cheats a Scrabble.

He’s memorized hundreds of two- and three-letter words, words he doesnt even know the definitions of.

And he teases me about my interest in Astrology – which is only a passing interest, people. He sends me my Brezney astrology in fucked up ways all the time.

This morning he wrote my astrology on a softball and left it on the passenger seat of my flying car. He knows I like Brezney, but I can never figure out what he was talking about… until it was too late.

LIBRA (Sept 23-Oct 22)

Week of March 14, 2002

Now and then there comes a time when you have to break the mold; when you can no longer afford to squeeze yourself into a one-size-fits-all pattern. On other occasions, you urgently need to renounce the images that people have projected onto you; when your ability to live as a free soul requires you to rebel against all the expectations you’re surrounded by. And every once in a great while, Libra, you’re called on to shatter the molds and purge the projections in the same mad, healing rush. Now is such a turning point.