ashley hates being ignored

hates hates.

nearly as much as soccer fans hate it when someone who does know soccer puts it into its place.

she floods my inbox with pictures and letters and notes and whines and pleas and loves and hates.

she says this cuban embargo of pictures on my blog but none of her is ridiculous and some may agree with her. im still undecided.

ashley went to the beach yesterday and got a little suntan and came home and took pictures of herself for me and sent them and said, tony, if you love me you will put these on your page.

and i said, ashley, a man can love things and not put them on his blog. its just a blog.

she said, tony. i said, ashley. she said, i mean it. i said, i dont care what you mean. she said, please. i said, nope. she said pretty please.

and we went on and on, but im a sucker for pretty pleases.

sara’s dreaming about me again. this time instead of dreaming about getting down my pants shes going deeper. dreaming about my innards.

she says that she remembers me writing about the kidney stones that i passed but didnt get around to linking to any of the tales, which is sad, because i liked this recollection the best. defiance is my favorite trait, which is one reason i like anna and ashley so much.

for those of you who have given up on the Rabbit, thinking that she has escaped the cage or been skinned and fileted, turns out she was just on a long weekend in vegas complaining of hangovers and being overweight. i havent seen her in a while, but it would take more than a few trips through the buffet line for her to pinch an inch.

speaking of the sexiest female blogger, i have been propositioned by many in competition for this title, and i must say the women are playing this game for keeps.

because one of the contestants is my former newspaper editor, and another is married to a fella that i just saw at lunch, and since another is married to a guy who has skyrocketed to the top of the blogodome nearly overnight– and since all of them are married, i voted for Rabbit cuz she was single and probably could use the virtual pat on the ass.

i vote for Presidents with equal logic.

my good pal,

amy sends me this story of interest because she knows the only tshirts i sell through this site are those from tshirthell, cuz they rock (and cuz they flow me $4 a shirt, so buy up, cheapskates):

Online T-Shirt Seller Sues the Osbournes for $15 Million Tuesday, June 04, 2002, 10:27 AM ET

An online t-shirt seller has filed a $15 million dollar trademark infringement lawsuit against Ozzy Osbourne, accusing him of swiping a T-shirt slogan for use in the hit MTV show, “The Osbournes.”

The Alley-based T-shirt seller has also named Ozzy’s wife Sharon Osbourne, Sony Music and Epic Records as part of the lawsuit.

The suit alleges that the company T-shirt which reads “Fuck My Family, I’m Moving in with the Osbournes!” began selling online on its website back in March. Soon after, the suit alleges, Ozzy Osbourne’s record label, Epic records, purchased $500 worth of the shirts from’s website for promotional purposes.

Then two months after the sale, the Osbournes started selling a shirt with “nearly the exact same slogan” as the original shirt, according to the lawsuit.

The Osbournes released two versions of their shirt in retail and online stores worldwide, a censored version which reads: “*$@# My Family. I’m Moving in with the…Osbourne Family” and an uncensored version with the same slogan.

The lawsuit seeks to stop the Osbournes from selling their shirt, and have all profits from the offending shirt turned over to, besides the $15 million dollars in damages.

More on press release announcing the lawsuit.

i guess i have my share of readers,

i might have your share too.

so when one of my favorite readers gets all worked up about his cousin scoring a gooooooooooooooooooooooal in the silliest sport in sports, i figure what the hell, lets throw bro a bone.

im american, through and through.

that means i couldnt give two shits about soccer and i couldnt even give one shit about the world cup.

it’s nice to see people get all excited about their favorite sport, and its nice to see nationalistic pride, which is good for all the puny little places that arent the usa.

but i thought we covered that with the miss universe pageant? no?

anyhow, i like the riots, and the face paintings, and the big flags and the fights in the stands, and how everyone watches tv together and sings songs and drinks beer and stumbles home drunk with paint smeared down their sweaty cheeks with chants still echoing down the alleyways.

but fuck the world cup.

learn how to play baseball if you wanna impress me.

or football, or even basketball.

everyone wants to take on the world champs, and thats who WE are so dont go running around thinking youve done something cuz you beat Brazil or Camaroon.

i mean, come on. lets get serious.

take your little balls and your nets and your flags… and learn how to play baseball, an acutal sport.

most of you know how to play it, so play it. play it with the objective that you want to compete with America in an arena that no one has proven that they can defeat us in.

you cheat when you play us at Little League, thats cool.

in fact its a good start.

anyway, this might be the last world cup post you see here. and now you know why.

but if i do find myself waking up from a drunken stupor and i hear a mob of freaks screaming at the tv, i will root for korea because of my man Noah.

good morning, good morning

sitting at the subway station waiting for the train, this guy behind me is clipping his finger nails.

if theres one sound i dont like its that one.

perhaps the issue i have with that sound is that when people clip their nails in public, rarely do they tidy up after themselves, so whats left behind is a small pile of — ugh its too sick to even think about.

so i wanted to tell this guy off so i turn around and he looks like he just got out of jail, and i look at his wrist and theres a wristband there that says he DID just get out of jail but you know what, sometimes there is a little bit of courage that just spills out and i look at him and his clippers and the sick little pile at his feet and i gave him such a dirty look.

and the fucker stopped.

later i realized the guy was probably on probation and didnt want to get thrown back in the hole over something so dumb, but he tried to intimidate me and it didnt work.

got on the train and over the PA i heard the pleasant voice of my favorite black conductor who almost sings his greeting, “hello hello what a great day today is going to be…”

i think ive told you about this guy before.

“it’s Tuesday and thats Our Day, so dont forget to treat yourselves like kings and queens.”

its hard not to smile when you ride on this guy’s train.

made me forget about all of my problems.

made me forget that i spent most of the evening trudging through “The Hamptons”

made me forget about my poor Cubs’s record.

“a day like today just makes me want to feel the energy pop from the doors. treat yourselves right today people. wilshire and vermont.”

and for some reason i wanted to see how my old broken down escalator was doing, so instead of switching trains, i got out of the subway and chose to ride the bus down wilshire and before i got to the bus, i saw that the escalator that we all know so well was now fixed.

it only took a year and a half, but it was fixed and it was taking all the kings and queens from the metro station to vermont avenue.

and maybe tonight i’ll go bowling.