hi, it’s me tony. again.

well, you haven’t written me or hired me or written about hiring me and i guess im not surprised. i mean how many people get jobs after asking for them through their blogs?

and you don’t know me and i don’t capitalize my letters and my favorite subject is me so i guess i wouldn’t make a very good columnist for you.

i understand.

beato was right, the best forum for tony pierce probably is tonypierce.com

so how was your friday night?

mine sucked.

i don’t know what it is, times, but me and ashley just don’t seem to be hitting it off anymore.

she picked me up at work at 5 and right away we got in a little fight.

i wont get into the details but anne was in the backseat and it reminded me of one of those quiet little steamy fights where the parents are in the front seat trying to keep their voices low and the kids are in the back trying to ignore it all while looking out the window or tracing the outlines of shadows on the seats but the mom has turned down the radio and theres nothing else to pay attention to.

it was a stupid fight and i still have a little cold and i kept telling her that i didn’t want to be upset it was friday whoo hoo and i just wanted to get some food and watch kobe versus mj and eat thai food.

where did you eat last night?

first we went over to hollywood and highland to see if charlies angels two was filming but it wasn’t on account of the rain, so we drove east down hollywood until we got to the palms thai and i ordered tom kha gai, which i like to call some young guy but ashley doesn’t like it when i “try” to be funny so she didn’t laugh. anne did, but stifled it pretty well. then we drove over to the rite aid to get some benedryl. the girls waited in the car so i also picked up some gum for them, i saw that the m&ms were on sale, and i also got a generic duraflame log for the fireplace.

when we got home they dropped me off and the girls cruised sunset to poquito mas while i ate my soup and shrimp fried lice in front of my tv, watching jordan and stackhouse take it to the shaqless lakers 100-99. pretty cool game. its so good to see mj still be able to bring it. the girls came back home and ashley said she was going to drop off anne out in west covina. that was at like ten and now its like 2:30am and she’s still not back.

why would she forsake me?

i called her at 2am and she said, “oh i thought you said you were going to fall asleep?”

i said, “that doesn’t mean you couldnta come home and woken me up, wink wink.”

and she said, “oh, i didn’t think thats what you meant.”

i said, “well i didn’t think that when you said ‘im gonna drop off annie’ meant that you were gonna stay there all night.”

do you ever have problems with young girls like this?

sometimes i just don’t know, la times. i mean really.

i like anne a lot. whats not to like? so nice. so sweet. but ashleys been here since thursday and i haven’t been able to spend any time alone with her. why would she want to spend more and more time not with me? does she just want me for my gorgeous bod and my money? she doesn’t laugh at my jokes any more. she doesn’t do it with me three times a day any more. we don’t instant message or email each other. it seems like all we do most the time is fight. yet she wont let me break up.

i do want a girlfriend. i do want someone who will drop off their good friend and want to come back to me before midnight and wake me up with soft kisses and start the fire going in the fireplace as the rain drops on the wooden roof and the cars splash by in the night.

and i also want a job. some place where i can be creative and part of a team and worthwhile and appreciated. a place where i can be relied upon and not in a 9 to 5 way but a magical way like, shit tony with the election over and the rain coming down we sure could use some glimpse of warmth in these cold pages, write something dreamy and romantic and poetic and smooth.

im a hundred and nine years old, la times. you know how that is. we want to feel useful and needed and more than just a mundane part of someone’s life, we want to be a special part of someones day. don’t we? i do.

two forty four am. here i am alone. not sleepy any more after passing out on the couch while the fire crackled and hbo kicked my ass and the tom kha gai’s spiciness zinged me in the right way.

am i really too out there for you? how could that be? eminem, a white rapper who yells fag every other line and sings songs about killing his wife while their daughter is in the back seat, is going to be number one in the country in album sales and movie grosses this weekend.

am i really more outrageous than him?

speaking of grosses, wasn’t jackass the movie number one just a few weeks back?

i thought we were through the looking glass, people, where black is white and white is black.

the angels won the world series.

halle and denzel won oscars.

the world trade center got knocked down by evil on national tv.

are you saying theres really no place other than here for me?

You better lose yourself in the music, the moment,

You own it,

You better never let it go.

You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow

This opportunity comes once in a lifetime, yo

moxie

regarding all of the drama going on in the comments section below.

the post in question featured a picture of my drinking buddy karisa in her halloween costume with her work buddy liz, who i believe was also in her halloween costume (i have learned never to assume these sorts of things).

some guy named marc innocently asked in the comments section

“who’s the girl that’s not karisa: yum!”

to which i snidely replied sarcastically

“marc,

that girl is the ugliest girl in hollywood.

yep.”

then the mysterious G chimed in with

“I assume your response, (tony,) is an inside joke, cause I don’t get it. Marc said she’s good looking: ‘yum’.”

to which liz wrote back under the pseudonym of Ugly Girl

“Hi Tony,

Bite me.

I was going to write you something nice since I’ve heard so many great things about you…but you can blow it out your crusty rear.

Marc and G, thanks so much! “

which prompted my response last night before bedtime of

“dear ugly girl,

i was just being sarcastic.

duh.

everyone knows karisa’s the ugliest girl in hollywood.

🙂

luv, tony”

funny? ha ha? right. misunderstandment? no. this morning karisa sends me an email from overseas telling me that Liz is still pissed and i should write her and tell her that i was seriously kidding, which i was.

so here, concerned readers, is what i wrote the luscious liz. watch your hero grovel.

to: liz@clickmodeling.com

from: dumbass@tonypierce.com

subject: a thousand pardons

liz,

the rumors of my genius are highly exaggerated.

people say im such a good writer but they’re all drunkards. they say im

funny, but what do they know.

surely i thought that you would never read my web page (why would you?)

and everyone would know that if i called an obviously gorgeous woman “the

ugliest girl in hollywood” either they would think that i was being

predictably sarcastic, or they’d believe the myth that every girl in la is

at least as beautiful as you.

karisa will tell you that in an average day i will tell hundreds of jokes

and dozens will be funny.

im sorry my little comment hit you the wrong way.

perhaps you will allow me to take you and karisa out for expensive drinks at

the cheesecake factory of your choice.

humbly yours.

tony

hours passed and still no email from karisa’s co-worker. i felt super bad because i have heard great things about her and yet never had the opportunity to meet her. and you know how things are with girls, piss off their friends, and you piss them off too. so not only had i blown it with liz, but my friendship with karisa was teetering as well. yikes.

then, like dream, that tiny beige envelope appeared in the bottom right corner of my flat screen monitor.

it was liz. innocent liz. damaged by my buffoonery. would she accept my apology or would she lay into me like a trucker who had been cut off?

witness:

from: liz@clickmodeling.com

to: dumbshit@tonypierce.com

subject: Re: a thousand pardons

you are such a dork

without even meeting you, i know this.

i DO have a sense of humor(really, I do!!!) but when you’re scaring off

possible Liz “admirers”, it makes me screamin’ mad!

yes, let’s go and get some cutsie-pootsie drinks when KiKi comes back as

I have heard so much about you and always ask why you don’t come out also.

The ugliest but much humored girl in Hollyweird

so there you have it, cub fans. the drama has ended and you can all go in peace.

what have we learned from this?

sarcasm on strangers falls on deaf ears?

tony really is the hermit loser that he pretends not to be and should have had drinks with these fine lovelies and avoided all of this?

no, what i learned is karisa is telling all the hotties in la that im a dork.

damn you, mass girl, i will get my revenge and tell all your secrets.

p.s. thats not really liz’s email address therefore all the liz admirers should leave comments here.

p.p.s. admirers of tony can leave their comments here too.

fimoculous

nd who doesn’t love parker posey?

what will you do today to celebrate?

ashley, the daisy princess, last night drove her friend anne up to hollywood to be extras in charlie’s angels two starring their idol, miss drew barrymore. the girls arrived at 4pm and spent most of the evening in the cold rain giddy with excitement despite clearly seeing in the call sheet that the former mrs. tom green wasn’t scheduled to appear.

no matter, they ran up to hot shot director McG bearing gifts for drew and McG told them how excited drew would be to get their handmade necklace and hallmark card, and despite captaining the multimillion dollar picture introduced himself and posed for pictures with the young girls who were blown away by his “sweetness”.

anne was celebrating her 18th birthday and still had a permasmile at midnight when i ordered a veggie pizza for the ladies who dried themselves by my fireplace.

half hour later they were back out in the rain, not to work, but to watch. i wanted to warn them that they’d catch a cold or they’d wake up all achy and drowsy in the morning but sometimes youth isn’t at all wasted on the young, sometimes it’s the fuel and when ashley crawled under my electric blanket at 4am with wet hair and cold skin i could hear the fire still crackling in the front room interspersed with snores.

shes asleep ashley told me and nibbled at me.

and i thought

then i thought

and then i thought

then she said what are you thinking about?

and i said im trying to think if thirty three books have been sold so far or thirty four?

she said don’t you want to be thinking of something else.

i said but it’s technically friday and that means that there are only three days left for the discounted rate.

she said are you fucking kidding me.

and she ripped open her corset colored with the twinkling christmas lights circling the bedroom

and not everything is wasted on the young and at four oh four that blonde girl’s ass wasn’t so cold any more.

utter wonder

Seems I’ve often heard that kind of talk before

It never rains in California,

but girl don’t they warn ya

It pours,

man, it pours

two inches of rain in los angeles is like thirty inches of snow in maui, everyone freaks out, no one knows what to do, so they do what they normally do, drive fast while talking on their cell phones crashing into each other and never accepting fault.

the rain started yesterday around rush hour. people here seem to think that the faster you drive in the rain the less it will affect the wax job on their lexus’s. some are right.

wrong was the blonde skaterboy on his wooden longboard who tried to make a left onto wilshire and wiped out landing on his ass, launching his coffee mug of oatmeal into the drizzle and his deck into the honking traffic.

wrong was the subterrainian metro that, only in la, could be thirty minutes behind schedule due to weather despite being completely dry, miles below the metropolis.

wrong was the choice of the glamor girl who chose skin tight suede, shivvering below her dilapidated umbrella old with age, and flapping from crappiness.

five dolares sang the spuds mckenzie umbrella hawker at wilshire and western admiring his roll of cash secured with damp rubberband as we lined up to board the bus whose floors were wet whose windows were foggy whose seats were wet whose passengers were wet whose driver told her boss she had to take a 1031.

use the mcdonalds on crescent heights he said on the radio staticky due to the weather.

what about the jack in the box on la brea she asked and added over.

whereever you can, baby, he answered back with an over and out.

it’s like theyve never seen this ever before yet it comes down every year.

rain in the city means snow in the slopes but everyone crashes before they get there. everyone.

sweet little jetta rear ends land rover who slowed down to a near stop as it delicately maneuvers over the inch high speed bumps in the office courtyard.

i arrive at work a half hour late grateful that the bossman had the foresight to trust fritz the weatherman and took a personal day when he heard there’d be rain.

secretary says, welcome to work when i punch the clock and remove my trench coat.

it was work just getting to work i tell her and she kisses my forehead and pats my sweet ass.

dirty fez

a character named “franklin” wonders:

So Tony is taking posts from his weblog and turning them into a book? One would think a creative genius of his calibre would be able to come up with some new material… there are a lot of things to spend my money on, why spend on something that’s free online?

fair question.

but before i begin, please let me tell my friends that they will be getting the books for free. so quit paypalling me because i just found out how to refund your asses. if you want you can buy one at the discounted rate if you are buying it for a friend or a family member, but if youre just getting one for yourself and youre my friend, it’s on the house. it’s my christmas gift to you. just give me your address so i know where to send it.

what constitutes a friend? good question. a friend is someone whose phone number i have on my phone list. a friend knows where i live. a friend knows how devistatingly handsome i truly look in real life and only laughs at these photos of me on the web.

a friend either went to school with me or worked with me or got me out of hot water with the law or jammed in a band with me or repelled half dome with me or set me up with some super fly bitches back in the day.

k, now, franklin. you should buy this book because what i write here cannot be read when youre on the can, it cannot be read in a bus, it cannot be read on a plane or a train or in the backseat of a car as youre driving up the 5 to visit your ex-girlfriends parents over thanksgiving. thats why they make books.

also a book made of past blog enteries looks differnet on the page, it reads much more as a story, it has a different feel. you can wrap it up and give it as a gift. you can put it on a shelf and refer to it.

why do people buy the dvds of their favorite films? why dont they just remember what they saw? why dont they just wait for it to get on hbo or wait for it to get on abc?

yes i will be putting new stuff in there, and poems and pictures and commentary, but the bulk of the book are the old posts in different order than you might expect, for example there will be a whole chapter just on the conversations between me and ms. anna kournikova. some never before seen.

you should also get it because lots of columnists compile their columns and turn it into books. why punish the man who has organized his words on computer?

instead you should reward the lad who has brought you all this great joy.

or franklin, if you really see no value in it at all, but you’re grateful for my daily deeds, just flow the funds and write in the message area, “donate my book to a local senior citizen’s center or battered woman’s shelter in my name.” and i will.

but mostly you should be getting this book because it will be autographed from me to you and that’s definately worth ten bucks plus shipping.

so act now.

reverse cowgirl

yesterday, if you didn’t see it.

he raised several intelligent and thought-provoking points.

greg suggests that there could be no better place for tony pierce than on tonypierce.com

i totally disagree.

this blog is something that i get to do on the 15 minute breaks at work and the time that i find during halftime shows after work while watching basketball on my satellite dish.

i would love a good designer, a good editor, some contributors, photographers, illustrators, fact checkers for my ass, etc. etc.

sure, working at a paper would make me tone it down and i would be able to say fuck fuck fuck all day long, but to be honest, i don’t even want to say fuck fuck fuck all day long.

i want to write about los angeles.

what people don’t remember is that out of punk comes pop. janes addiction spawned lalapalooza. the red hot chili peppers spawned “under the bridge.” henry rollins spawned some thick necked dude i now see playing cops in movies.

i see ice-t on law and order, i see ice cube in barbershop, i see dr. dre formerly of nwa on trl.

why cant we see tony pierce every day on latimes.com?

i am dying to sell out.

except i would sell out like andy warhol did. the joke will be on you. not you you, but them you.

the joke will be, i cant believe that you paid a million bucks for a painting of a soup can or for a xerox of a photograph.

i want to be surrounded by great writers and artists and playing in the major leagues.

i love the history of writing and the rules and the structure, for without them what can you play off of?

i have so much to learn when it comes to writing and how to present a page and i think everyone agrees that this web page thing has yet to begin to rock.

why cant the la times lead the way?

must it always be ten paces behind the ny times?

maybe it must.

i agree with greg, there will be editors who will want to complain if i get too much freedom, or exposure, or money, or book deals. even in college i had an editor who was jealous. theres nothing you can do about that.

but any attention that i get will bring more traffic to latimes.com and more traffic means more ads and more ads means more money.

unfortunately mo money, mo problems.

i just want to learn to write better.

i want to be able to knock out a 40 inch sellout feature in a day. i cant do that right now. i have no clips. i don’t have shit.

all i have is this blog and this site which isn’t a reflection, necessarily, of me, but of what someone can do who knows very little about writing and even less about photoshop.

if the la times said, pierce, heres $40k, write obits for a year like royko did. i would do it. i love obits. they’re just features. they’re just profiles.

i love being timely. i love having the scoop on everyone.

that winona “exclusive” interview was posted seconds after the verdict.

there was only two things that coulda happened, guilty or not guilty. tell me which post to put up there and click the button and boom.

you. cannot. do. that. in. newsprint.

you also cant write and write and write and write and not sweat it.

all these pictures that i have on this blog could be ads. sell me out. the kids don’t care.

cobain sold out with nevermind and those who were yelling sellout were nothing compared to the kabillions who cheered and bought that record as the floodgates of grunge were parted and everything came pouring out.

the next revolution could be televised or bloggerized.

television has overhead, this shit doesn’t.

if the times wanted me to stop using certain words, fine. it’s their paper, not mine. im so unattached to what i write these days that if i get paid for it it’s not mine any more. you can do with it what you want. if you want to paint over your warhol soup can, go for it. if it turns out better, it’ll reflect more on me than on them so whatever. and if it makes me look dumb, whatever. i look dumb pretty easily on my own.

the only bad thing about the la times proposal that i didn’t mention when i wrote it is that i would stop the busblog.

i would want my “career” to be the center of my creative universe.

maybe i would write about stuff in this space that is either super personal, like friends’ birthdays, or poems or stuff that just wouldn’t work in the times, or maybe, if i had the time, i could use this space to give you some behind-the– but no, i’d probably just end it.

just like how im ending this post. quickly.

but before i do, greg requested a photo essay of Christian statuettes like the ones above.

as a Christian i’m a little shocked that figurines like these are being sold at places like catholicshopper.com, but religion doesn’t surprise me much any more.

i’m shocked because a lot of these pieces seem to poke fun at our idea of the Messiah, it doesn’t lift it up.

and some look downright pedo-erotic. no, thanks.

but the two that im showing here are okay, i suppose.

i’d rather not see Jesus in modern day themes with his old robes. to be honest i’d rather see a black Jesus, but that’s just me. but i don’t want to see him with his legs crossed smoking a cigarette and reading the newspaper.

i think the story of Jesus is plenty just as it is. most people really don’t understand much of what he said when he was saying it, myself included, so why throw him into mundane situations like this? would elvis fans buy statues of the king taking a dump while eating corn on the cob?

that’s what i see when i click on a picture of the Messiah driving the lane on two little white kids.

with that said, i will be looking around the web for more of these weird statuettes, if any of you know where i can find them, email me the urls.

yours in rock,

tony

sksmith

what’s up president of the united states of america?

my approval ratings, bay bee. ahahahahaha.

well congratulations, mr. president, it looks like your influence is what brought your party all the success it had in winning back the majority in congress.

thats what they tell me.

do you agree?

i agree with what i said, yes.

i hear you have a hit documentary on hbo.

thats what i hear too. i’m in it right?

yep, its called travels with george.

now see, thats a good title.

part of the documentary, mr. president is you suggesting that title.

get out.

i shit you not, mr. president.

please dont.

so how about this war on terrorism, huh.

see, you say things like that and i dont think youre being sincere.

im not being sincere.

this war is very serious. and i read your blog. i see you taking jabs at me. when was the last time we’ve been attacked by terrorists?

dc sniper?

he doesnt count.

why doesnt he count?

he was an american.

so does that mean you’re going to pardon john walker lindh?

mmmmmaybe.

i dont think you should.

why not?

you might come across as being soft of terrorism.

but if i hang him all those people who bitched about my record in texas– executing people and stuff– they’ll come back to life like zombies.

hang em.

he’s just a kid.

so is the kid partner of the dc sniper.

yeah but–

but john walker is white.

i didnt say that.

and his parents are rich.

youre putting words in my mouth.

george if i could put words in your mouth i would put way better ones in there.

i bet you would fuckball.

okay, well, yay usa. good luck getting help from the u.n. to help you blow iraq to hell.

thanks.

and good luck with the economy, you’re going to look like a gigantic ass if you cant get something right in the next two years with the congress, the supreme court and the executive branch on your side.

see, youre not being genuine again, are you?

that time i was. i want you to do well.

you do?

of course i do, mr. president. see, i am an american. i want america to do well. and i also know that the american voters, for the most part, have their heads up their asses and they dont care if the former administration did well, they’ll still vote for whoever they want.

you’ve lost me.

it’s cool. by the way, if you were so influencial, why couldnt you get rid of that political powerhouse Gray Davis?

you know how many texan republicans made a fortune off Gray Davis?

touche.

hey how many books have you sold so far?

30 books.

not bad.

only four more days to get it at the discounted rate.

i’m thinking about getting a few for my daughters, they love your stuff.

find bin laden and i’ll give you a few free.

okay, now that’s a deal.

truth laid bear

hi handsome.

nice belly.

nice pants.

wanna go out tonight?

k.

where do you wanna go?

anywhere you are.

will you let me kiss you.

depends.

depends on what?

depends if you let me kiss you back.

wanna have italian?

are you italian?

will you kiss me if i have garlic bread?

only if you swallow it first.

say that again.

say what, oh… swallow.

thank you.

do you love me?

do you love me?

let me think about it.

now do you love me?

okay, yes.

i have an idea then, lets just order chinese and watch survivor.

okay i really love you now.

great.

k bye.

byeeeee.

now is the time for pants

cuz im still sick, and i gotta get in the right mood for a really important xbi softball game that’s going on tonight, and cuz im a little dizzy from the pills the nurse gave me after lunch, and cuz no one has bought a book from me in a good 3 hours, despite matt and greg‘s nice links.

and cuz ashley is mad at me for putting up karisa‘s picture and writing “why would a girl like karisa want me”. ashley called me up and said, “what, am i an ugly skank cuz i do want you?”

no, ashley, you’re not an ugly skank.

once there was a boy.

he wasn’t the brightest boy at school.

one day the people from the standardized test place came to his school and put a test in front of all the kids. the boy took the test along with all the others and he scored a ridiculously high score.

his mom said, oh there must be something wrong with your test for my son gets lousy grades in school.

the woman from the school said, “well what does he do when he comes home?”

the mother said, he sits in his room watching television and putting moustaches on the women in my cosmopolitans.

the woman asked, is that all he does?

the mother said, no, he also plays baseball in the street, and he shoots at doves in the forest preserve, and he listens to devil music, and he spends hours playing nerf basketball while talking to himself, and he fights crime for fun.

the woman shook her head slowly, writing it all down. and then she said, what sort of books does he read?

the boy’s mother said, magazines, not books. he reads spin, entertainment weekly, sports illustrated, playboy.

the woman said playboy?

the mother said, yes, he really does read it. he reads all of it. the interviews, the stereo reviews, the pigskin previews, the comics, the fiction by famous authors.

the woman said, but what about the nude women?

the mother said, he’s a Christian, we believe that there’s nothing wrong with God’d creation. and there isn’t by the way.

the woman said, well he got nearly all the questions correct. we think he may have cheated. we were wondering if you objected if we asked him to take the test again.

the mother didn’t object so the son took the test again, this time in the principal’s waiting room. same test.

this time he got all the questions correct.

the boy’s mother got a phone call telling her that her son was a genius.

she told the woman to hold on.

“hey son.”

“yeah ma.”

“woman here says you’re a genius.”

“hang up on her, she’s probably trying to sell you something.”

the mother got back on the phone, “are you trying to sell something?”

the woman said, “well, no, but i was about to suggest that you send him to a little bit better school than–“

click.

the mother went to the boy’s room and leaned on the bookshelf filled with baseball cards, star wars stickers, magazines, boy scout things and said, “do you think that woman might be right? do you think you’re, you know, gifted?”

the boy was laying on his belly playing adventure on his sister’s atari 2600.

he said, smart kids wear glasses. i aint smart.

the little square on the screen was touched by a duck. the boy yelled something that rhymed with duck.

the mother said, tony!

then she said, explain that test you took.

he said, standardized tests can be beat just like this video game. the hard part is asking cheerleaders to be your girlfriend.

and the moon set behind the evergreens in the tree forest, and a light snow continued to fall on the illinois plains, and a lamp with chicago cubs stickers on it finally turned off after someone read the articles of a mens magazine and looked very closely at the pictures to see if he could discover any clues to the puzzle.

doc searls

Dear Tony,

Why don’t you throw down more pictures of Karisa and some of the other babeages that you kick it with??? Does Ashley get jealous or somethin’? And hey, where’s her blog?

BR

dear br,

karisa is pretty camera shy. the only time she really approves of pictures are when she’s drunk off her ass, or laughing her ass off.

ashley doesnt get jealous. she knows i have a lot of friends and karisa is just one of them. a special one, but look at her, you think a girl like karisa is going to find any interest in a fool like me?

ashley doesn’t have a blog, she has an open diary. and shes too hot and too young to be interested in me. read her, you’ll see.

Tony,

If I were, say, a poor high school senior without a credit card and wanted to buy a book, how would *that happen…

Dylan M.

dylan,

i know you high school kids can get your hands on a credit card. you kids can do anything. thats why i love you all so.

how many non-high school bloggers, adults, if you will, write as much about teen blogs in complimentary ways like i do? how about none. how many of them write about cam girls in serious ways. zip. your generation can do whatever it wants. im sure you can figure out how to get this silly little book.

im also sure your mom would be happy to flow you the digits for a book of fine literature like what we’re talking about here.

but if you really really really can’t. send me an email and i’ll give you a po box that you can mail a check to.

Dudesickle,

How many books you sell so far?

Irv

hi irv,

not that it’s anyone’s business, but we’ve hit 25 preorders sold. i think that’s pretty cool.

TONY,

HOW DO U DO IT?

WILL U LINK MY SHITZIT? ITZ DA BOMBASTICK.

PB

dear pb,

generally i only link sites that i like.

i like my readers and i dont want to send them somewhere horrible.

heres some ways that you can get linked though. put my link at the top of your list. have something interesting to say. put up a picture that no one else has.

it also helps if you kiss my ass or rave about Tsar.

Yo T-Dawg,

What’s your feeling about my busblog title? What titles are on your short list?

CM

dear cm,

so far i like, in no order of preference

1. Blook

2. hi blog, hi tony

3. I Shoulda Gone To Prague

4. Nude Descending A Staircase

5. I wrote this book by accident

6. smoke break

7. Dude, Where’s my Blog

keep the titles coming.

Bro,

Did you see what Soundbitten wrote about you today?

Just checkin in.

Mc P

mc p,

i sure did. i love it.

as in LOVE.

soundbitten