he greeted me with a smile, nodded at my bus pass, hit the gas and tore down wilshire like he had been there before.

“i love bukowski,” the young woman with the tounge piercing revealed to me. i was sitting in the very back row of seats in the middle. she was sitting on the drivers side next to the window. she was spying on me.

i smiled back.

“do you like any female authors?” she asked.

i continued smiling and shook my head no thinking that shed leave me alone.

i thought about how my friend had said that all the great female authors were either crazy or crazy, and it’s not amazing when crazy people write great books

and i was going to present this thesis to my fellow commuter when i saw that the bus driver had slid his way through the wilshire corridor so quickly and assuredly that we had reached my destination in record time and i had only read one poem from “what matters most is how well you walk through the fire,” and i had written only a few lines in my diary.

i got off the bus and began walking and the sun was nice and the air was clean and a homeless man dug through a public wastecan, picked up a styrofoam to-go box, inspected its contents and rejected it completely.

and at the half hour the watch left behind last night from clipper girl’s college roommate chimed on my wrist.

sharon stone is told that Los Angeles is fine with just one daily paper.

and to be honest even though the good parts were super good, the bad parts were super bad and if i had to take away the good parts so that i wouldnt have to deal with the bad parts, i would. how fucked up is that?

went to a hollywood hills party the other night and an after party a few houses away from the original.

the first house had all the things you’d want plus a house full of dogs: from little ones to a great dane. but the best part of the house was the secret unfinished unused rooms on the lower floors that would be fun to explore late at night in the dark because they seemed haunted. this man’s house was so big that he hardly ever went in there and it showed and that made it very cool.

second best part of the house was the garage that not only had a full line of tools and a complete workshop, but a Bentley convertible and a Corvette.

the neighbor’s house was even bigger. i cant even begin to describe this place other than to say it was perfectly decorated and had a view of los angeles that i have never seen even a celebrity have. but the point of all of this isnt to look back at wonder or awe or even jealousy but to say that many people who live in big places like this have a slanted outlook at the world. they’re messed up in one way or another. but im glad to report that neither is the case in these examples.

both gentlemen who hosted the parties were happy and healthy and generous with their homes to their guests. the booze flowed, the music played, the ladies danced.

even the helicopter ride was fun.

i said but im already on lots of drugs. and she leaned over my shoulder and looked at my email.

i said excuse me.

she said, fine, mr honesty what do you have to hide in your email box?

i said, first of all, its not mr honesty, its mr nothing in here is true.

and she said all you men are alike. i said i know very few men, and i would certainly hesitate before i called myself one.

she said, what on earth are you saying?

i said i nearly started crying the other day, thats not very manly. she said what on earth?

i said, if i had a car i would have.

she said, so what did you do?

i said, i rented a car.

a left-handed sharpshooter, carlisa (far left) went to a famous florida university, full scholarship to be their shooting guard.

now an up n coming fashion designer, a business she founded with her younger sister, carlisa is poised to take over the world.

i first met her at a pick-up game in venice beach where i was dominating in ’98. this one guy said, you’re good but you cant beat me and my sister. turned out that i could beat him and his sister, only problem was carlisa wasnt his sister and they cheated and won in a landslide and took me for ten bucks.

my last ten bucks.

unfortunately the bet was for $100 and as the guy held me, carlisa got to take 100 shots at my thin frame.

good thing she hits like a girl.

happy birthday carlisa!

if he thinks someone is stealing the signs he might put two fingers down and adjust his mask, the adjustment means “fuck what i threw down, its gonna be a fastball.”

some catchers just throw down any fingers so the pitcher needs to count how many pumps the catcher made, if he throws down fingers just once its a fastball, twice its a curve.

me and jeanine do the same thing on the phone because its tapped due to some counterintelligence that we havent all sorted out yet.

we do it with “i love yous.” lets say we need to rendevous at the Rustic. well, thats everyones favorite place so that is one exchange of “i love you’s”

me: i love you

she: i love you too, see you next week.

that means, “fine, see you at the rustic ASAP.”

if she wants to meet at The Drawing Room across the street from the Rustic, that would be the second option so she’ll throw in another “i love you” at the end of the convo.

me: thanks for calling, pretty girl, i love you.

she: i love you too.

me: ok, bye.

she: i love you a lot.

me: i love you a lot too, bye.

and so on.

just like in baseball, you can wipe off a sign real easy by touching your cheek or rubbing your left leg with your right hand.

me and jeanine do it the simple way by sarcasticly inserting a “but secretly i hate you,” added with a laugh.

yesterday she called and wanted to meet me on the wesssside at my favorite bar over there Del’s Saloon.

but since i dont live anywhere near there any more, it takes a lot of “pumps” to get it out.

me: ok, sexy secretary. i love you.

she: right on nice boy, i love you too.

me: ok bye.

she: but i really love you.

me: but i really love you too.

she: as in love love, but not in the way that you’re hoping, but i love you.

me: yes, i love you in a filthy way.

she: your filthy way is sweet, thats why i love you.

me: ok bye.

she: but i love you anyway.

me: thats a whole lotta love. i love you too.

she: like whitney said when bobby brought her home the oregon buds, i will always love you.

me: yeah me too.

she: ok, i love you.

me: ok, see you at the gospel brunch sunday at the house of blues.

she: definately! but be there on time this time, mister.

me: you were the one who was late.

she: hehehe yeah, i know.

that means, get your ass over to Del’s pronto.

when we got there she told me that she loved it when i put pictures of monkeys on my site. which wasnt code for nothing.

but this is: hey jeanine, check out this crazy canadian who loves, i mean loves fountains— thanks sks.

and thanks a. beam for letting me know how many times i scooped Time’s ass. well, shit, id hope so.

when our very own Anna Kournikova had to withdraw from her doubles match due to injury after she lost in straight sets to Spain’s Ruano Pascual 6-3, 6-2.

Earlier in the week Venus Williams went down from a wrist injury, Martina Hingis dropped out from a leg problem, and now our girl Anna.

If ever there was a clue as to why pro tennis players start young and retire young, look no further than these three athletes who have been forced to succumb to the grueling tennis tour.

Kournikova’s injury is still being eclipsed by news surrounding her reputed Penthouse photos. On Tuesday U.S. District Court Judge Denny Chin ordered that Penthouse stop delivering additional copies of the magazine and he blocked the posting of the photographs on the magazine’s Web site. They can still be viewed on this site, probably because I never said they were Anna.

Anna wore a blue top and matching blue shorts when she lost to Pascual and became injured.

dawn and marc interview each other and theres nothing that gets me to read an article on the web faster than if im pretty sure they might talk about me or my friends.

thankfully, they said nice things.

this guy i work with turned me on to “the amazing race” and today they had a 2 hour special season finale.

all i gotta say: amazing.

this crazy show had me cheering and laughing and slapping my knee.

i learned that it is good to cast incredibly unlikeable people into modern gameshows like this because it is so much fun to root against them and curse when they are winning.

doug goodstein was executive producer of “the howard stern show” and personal manager of Hank the Drunken Angry Dwarf. everyone thought he was crazy to leave the howard stern show this year to produce the amazing race.

ashley has several auctions on ebay. i just have one, two tickets to elvis costello at ucla.

today is tori spellings twenty eighth birthday. buy them for her!

this very webpage interviewed a young canadian living in texas named Leah who had a cool webpage called “spit on a stranger.”

she still does, and Blogger decided on Friday to name her site Blog of Note.

not long ago i wrote about Rabbit and sure enough she wound up as the Blog of Note weeks afterwards.

So Blogger, here’s all the other things I wrote about last May, maybe you want to dig around there for some more material…while leaving me out of the mix.

For those of you who don’t remember, last year I started employment at my work and OJ interviewed me and we discussed Anna Kournikova well before her nude? pictures came out.

Last year there were birthday tributes to both Mary and Karisa.

There were FBI stories, pics of friends, amy got married, I gave much love to my moms, and Buffy got slayed.

Oh, and how could I forget, I met Ashley for the first time.

And speaking of her, if we are to believe the photograph is of her, Miss Irvine 2002 now has a tattoo thanks to her bed buddy, Rocko.

Pretty much the same stuff we cover now, we covered then.

No wonder Blogger isnt interested in me.

i know, i know, i cant go one day without slobberring over my friends, but if you had friends like these you’d be doing the same damn thing, so step.

greg and i knew each other in the dorms. he was quiet. little did i know that he spoke with his guitar and his paint brush, but i’d learn that later.

molli and i crossed paths in school too, i dont know how, though, that whole 7 years was just a pleasant blurry buzz but i remember that she was not quiet but always had a smile and new shitloads about music, so she got my respect immediately.

molli tells about their romance beautifully in her blog, it’s sticky sweet so bring a toothbrush for afterwards, but i cannot believe that it was three years ago that we were all invited to Frisco for the best country-rock wedding of all time.

i danced and danced and danced and danced. something i never do. and i wasnt the only one. we were all very happy that two perfect people who were even more perfect together were doing exactly what they should have been doing.

one reason that i moved into Layne’s old pad was cuz i could be closer to these cool kids, but alas, they moved to a spectacular home, but im stoked that we still get to see each other a lot.

happy anniversary greg and molli, im sure there are many more to come.

p.s. dont tell anyone but i think shes got a bun in the oven.