one reason i wanted ashley to date boys her own age

is because eventually she would figure out that im a bit wacky and the last thing that i would want her to think is that all guys are like this.

if she was dating a guy 19-21, all they’d want from her is sex. simple.

i think it’s way easier for girls who are 20 to think that all guys ever want is sex.

when i was at the age where all i wanted was sex, i also wanted to be the manager of the chicago cubs. predictably i didn’t get either.

but now poor ashley (pictured, with Losty) has to figure out how to please a guy who has had his share of carnal pleasures, has heard all the best music that will be recorded, has seen all the freaky things that hollywood will ever deliver up, and has pretty much done everything that he has wanted to do…

for the slight exception of managing the cubs to a long overdue world series championship.

so how on earth can she please me?

often she says im never satisfied. and on many levels shes right. last night we rented my favorite movie of all time, the blues brothers, and like a trooper she sat through it with me.

ive gotta say that even though the movie was made before ashley was born, it held up well and she gave a few courtesy chuckles and asked when i wanted to go to bed.

i said, im not sleepy.

she said, who said anything about sleep.

today it was my turn to compromise. i had to listen to kroq all day waiting for the new no doubt single to play so ashley could call in to win a fabulous prize. how listening to kroq 106.7 for 8 hours equals watching john belushi and dan akyroyd for 2 hours is beyond me, but many things are these days, like what are hot twenty year olds doing still hanging out with me more than a year after she must have realized that i ain’t all that.

just past signal hill on the 405 this evening the magic song was played and ashley darted through my gym bag and found my cell phone and started dialing and redialing and after a few songs it became obvious that she was not the winner. once the contest was over, it became obvious that our sunday was pretty much ruined due to the fact that she couldn’t concentrate on anything other than winning the trip to australia.

still heading south to drop off the daisy princess, she turned to me and said, what can i do that would make you happy right now.

now one reason that ashley is still in heavy rotation is because when she says things like this, the skys the limit. and if you know me you know my sky is high and wide. a question like that could begin with miniature golf and end with nine holes of real golf and tons of other variants in between.

this evening i said, “just say something nice to me.”

she said, “im sore because your ungh’s so big.”

and trust me when i tell you that even writing down that beautiful lie still brings a smile to my face.

and once again, ashley has proven that i should stop worrying about her so much, because shes far more wise than anyone gives her credit for.

her answer, for the record, earned her a trip to jamba juice and a few rounds of mario cart in her living room.

blink 182 is on

it’s one of the only good songs that ive heard on kroq this morning.

i have stopped listening to pasadena’s world famous alt rock station, but they’re giving away a pair of tickets to see no doubt in sydney australia and ashley is convinced that she will win, despite all of the karmic signs that point to the opposite. she is making me suffer through the decade stale kroq playlist so she can win these tickets and take SOMEONE ELSE!

now the vines are on, no, i mean the strokes, no, actually its the fuckwhatstheir name? “im in love with a girl” white stripes. ok, why doesn’t kroq play something else from them? if they’re so cool why not play another song? instead they seem to want to make us hate the song they play it so much shoving it down, here consumer HERE!

red hot chili peppers is on now. “under the bridge.” why?

red hot chili peppers have a song on the radio right now that sounds just like this, and its new. the record came out like two weeks ago. why not play that one?

im nervous about their new record.

i hate the chili peppers’ records. i cant listen to them. nothing has ever caught that live sound that spastic frenzy funk metal explosion.

they were doing so good with “give it away” and then they start releasing all these damn ballads.

the intellectual heroin boy with his shirt off isnt who im looking to for philosophical love songs.

you wrote one good one, this one. now go back to rocking for me, please.

Red Hot Chili Peppers

By the Way

guest blogger:

kool keith

The air was crisp.

The rain from the previous night had cleared all the smog out of the Los Angeles basin, leaving behind a cool, clear morning.

Dark reached into his left jean pocket and withdrew the white and gold box of cigarettes. Marlboro Lights.

Rion Dark never smoked anything but Marlboro Lights anymore.

He reached into the pack and pulled out a smoke. Two more and then the lucky. Dark started to ponder what his wish would be when he smoked the last, lucky one in the pack. He lit the cigarette and breathed in deep.

Ah. The first hit was always the best.

Looking up, he noticed the tallest building in view.

It was a wide, gray building with the slogan “EQUITY” engraved across the top.


The words on the building slowly began sliding across the face of the structure, gradually becoming a snake of letters, the “E” the head and the “Y” the tail.

The equity snake of LA’s Koreatown turned to face him.

“Hello, Rion,” said the Snake of Equity.

“Hello, Snake of Equity,” Dark replied. “What the fuck are you looking at?” That thing in his belly, the one that rumbled when he was really enjoying his

job, awoke from its slumber.

“You are evil, Dark. You are evil out of choice, as well. It is in your nature, yet you could easily overcome it. There is that strength in you.”

“I know, you fuck,” Dark spoke quietly, yet forcefully. It was the tone used when things were going to get a little ugly. Lets pause for a commercial break ladies and germs, because this fucking snake of equity, oh my God this is good acid.

The acid, the acid was creating the snake.

He hadn’t even realized it until then. The tab he’d taken earlier hadn’t really kicked in yet. Rion Dark wasn’t much for drugs, really. Except for cigarettes and acid. Well, he usually smoked a few bowls during his trips, and he did like to put a drink back every once in a while, but that was about the extent of it.

Dark had never decided which one he enjoyed more. Cigarettes were the constant ally, yet acid was the occasional oh so sweet, thank you darling once-a-month treat. On the first of every month, and here it was, December first thank you very much. Sometimes he had to delay his trip until the 2nd or 3rd, if there was some deadly serious business going on, which was actually quite often, but generally he was able to set up a solid day every 1st to just trip out and let his mind wander. His physical form usually followed.

He was quite a mobile tripper, probably from all the experience. He never drove on the stuff, unless he was truly out of the woods, but he liked to walk the streets, or ride around in taxicabs. Dark was a quiet, thoughtful, tripper. No one took much notice of him.

Equity. He’d have to look it up in the dictionary for an exact definition, but he knew it was a business term for assets. Meaning money. Somebody with a lot of equity was probably a pretty loaded bastard. A building with the word stamped across it had to have truckloads of cash lying around, he reasoned.

Dark would remember this building of equity, thank you very much.

Dark sat up from the stoop he’d been resting on and flicked his cigarette into the gutter. Enough fresh air, time to get back to the party, or what was left of it. The broads had mostly trickled away as the night went on, and it was down to the serious heads.

Fine by Rion Dark. He had enough women muddying up his world.

Suddenly he was thinking about the job he’d been working on yesterday. Old Nelly in the belly had really been a buzzin’ then. The guy had only been 5’3, bald, the prototypical little neurotic bookkeeper.

Dark loved watching courage and determination melt into desperation and fear, and all the myriad emotions in between. They had put little Edgar Bryant through hell last night, and really, they had only gotten started. The thought made him feel quite warm and fuzzy inside, and Dark didn’t know if that pleased or worried him.

At this point, he couldn’t care less. The intercom system at Mikey’s front door was smiling at him, the slats where sound came out bent into a shit-eating grin.

Rion hit the intercom’s left eye (button, dammit!) and was promptly buzzed up to the dim apartment, where bowls and play-station awaited.

stoked: that doc searls permalinked the busblog, thanks doc