onight with the new host Cindy Taylor.

if Art Mann ever gets his ankle broken, im sure i could be the goofy regular guy asking all the hoochie mamas in the exotic bars “whats the wildest thing that happens on on this island?”

actually im not so sure i could do it. ive seen other guys try to do it and they all look like dopes, except Art. Art seems to pull it off with equal parts i-can’t-believe-i’m-here with i’m-gonna-bang-every-one-of-these-sloppy-hos.

maybe im just projecting again.

my arms are sore, my carpal is cilling me, my heart is broken, my bed’s too big without you, my book is unpublished, my blog is a bore, my maid’s eighth number is disconnected, my cubbies didnt get thome, and my hundred year old tv is about to finally go out. so how come im not bummed out?

cuz tlc has a new video out and one of the chicks has an “im a pepper” tshirt on that i sent a hot chick for her birthday and yet ive never seen her in. i think she probably gave it to her girlfriend for sweetest day.

ive been hearing some of the best lesbo stories lately.

wanna hear some?

k.

this one girl who i barely talk to on the aol im emailed me and said she wanted to chat. so i got online and she starts telling me that she is about to graduate college and she feels bad that she has never “eaten from that side of the buffet table.”

but she does have a girl in mind who she wants to give it up to and they exchanged pictures and then they exchanged topless pictures and then they exchanged full on nudes.

now maybe im over the hill but that was good enough for me as i couldnt even believe that this girl was even talking to me, let alone, telling me some pretty good dirty tales of lust among co-eds.

and then she showed me a picture of the girl in question and i nearly fell right over in my chair.

perfect. young. smooth. perfect. perky. shaved.

perfect.

nay has a new layout

welch has been leading the eric neel parade for a while, and today he convinced me.

i check in on welch and layne several times a day because i trust their analysis of politics. unlike me, they’re fair, educated, and write in a professional manner. that’s why no paper wants them on the regular. fuckholes.

today welch points us again to neel on espn’s page two and eric made me laugh. which isnt easy. especially when he starts off by saying that the nba should get rid of it’s classic jerry west logo. but he does have some funny alternatives.

me, i liked the iverson version.

blogger has been a bitch this morning so i will make this quick while the time bandits window is cracked open for a brief second.

ashleys been calling me every night. she might think it’s hard on her. it’s doublely hard on me. see, ive been to the edge, and there i stood and looked down. i know what the future holds for me, and its definitely not super hot twenty year old blonde girls with cheerleader outfits and glitter.

so please take it easy on the temptation.

what’s up with the book? just your typical drama. its been banned from kinkos. the name tony pierce is a bad name in the copy shops and respectable printing palaces in LA so i might need to bust with Sonny I. LaVista on the cover because everyone seems to think that what i have created is obscene.

i sorta wish that the original printer hadn’t sat on it for three weeks because i really wanted this thing mailed out this week. #1 because i want you all to have it #2 because i want all of you to write about how great it is so that #3 all your readers would order it from me for themselves for Christmas.

looks like we’ll just be happy if you get it for Christmas and any profits i’ll make, if there are any, will be after the first of the year.

my mom wants to know what i want for Christmas.

i told her i want something for Hanukkah. ive never had a Hanukkah gift.

me and karisa are going to celebrate the holiday by seeing 8 Crazy Nights tomorrow.

do you know i love the Donnas.

i do.

ham fisted theatrics

ut it’s jarret house north’s.

happy birthday!

i was lucky enough to see ms. spears this year. i had great seats and i was even inspired enough to come back home and do a photo essay for your ass.

i was disappointed by the lipsynching but i guess i should get over it since nothing is real anymore, it’s all just a beautiful dream and as long as they keep the fluid clean in these pods of ours we can keep believing the grand lie and float around in our ignorant bliss.

im getting lots of mixed reviews about Solarass, geroge clooney’s new movie.

some people think its fantasstick, some people, like karisa think its a piece of shit.

once i was walking down the street and i realized i was walking right behind mr. clooney, true story.

and he had a little bounce in his walk and he was taller than i thought and i was going to the bank and he was going to he bank.

and the teller blushed and tried not to stare at him and he just smiled and talked in that great voice of his and everyone was just so damned pleased as punch to be standing at the bank in westwood with george clooney and i’ll tell you, i was pleased as punch to be standing at the bank with george clooney too.

nobody really talked to him or asked for an autograph because we don’t really do that in LA which is why the stars like it here, but george seemed to be in such a great mood that he woulda signed anything you handed him, i bet. and i saw the deposit slip right there, and i had a pen, but ive lived here long enough to know that autographs are for the tourists, lets just let george enjoy his trip to the bank.

first motherfucker i ever saw who literally laughed all the way to the bank.

now, for our girl britney.

i think its about over for her.

i don’t see her being able to sustain this frenzy and christina is far sluttier, and the people seem to like that, and britney cant really sing all that well, and shes not much of a dancer.

i say shes in playboy in three years.

people send me fakes of stars all the time. fakes are ok. i can live without them. but a while back when i was doing a little more nudity on these pages in order to drum up a little traffic (it worked) i did some pages like this, but i warn you theres nudity

but mostly i liked that one because it sorta looked like my old editor amy.

anyway, im a christina, anna, and mariah fan. o-dub is all about britney, and he must be in louisianna right now doing the crawl with her because his page is mysteriously barren.

oliver, where are you?

oliver willis

13

Geffen Records

“Fear of Flying”

(Love)

Hey, I don’t look back on all the things I’ve done

I’ve never looked for answers in a song

Ain’t got no good ideas, I’m staring at the sun

Don’t always look for comfort in a song

This is your one-way ticket so don’t fuck it up

Your flight is boarding and you’re running out of luck

Add a new vibration to the situation

Add a new vibration

I’d love to save the world like nature’s only son

I’ve never looked for answers in a song

Don’t have to paint no words the thoughts that don’t belong

Don’t always look for comfort in a song

This is your one-way ticket so don’t fuck it up

Your flight is boarding and you’re running out of luck

Add a new vibration to the situation

Add a new vibration

hey, hey, hey

hey, hey, hey

hey, hey, hey

hey, hey, hey

hey, hey, hey

Add a new vibration

hey, hey, hey

to the situation

hey, hey, hey

to the situation

hey, hey, hey

to my foundation

hey, hey, hey

Add a new vibration

hey, hey, hey

Add a new vibration

hey, hey, hey

to my foundation

hey, hey, hey

Add a new vibration

hey, hey, hey

to the situation

hey, hey, hey

to the situation

hey, hey, hey

Add a new vibration

hey, hey, hey

Add a new vibration

hey, hey, hey

hey, hey, hey

hey, hey, hey

nydreams

what the chick from useless looks like or even if shes real, or even if shes a she, i still get sad a little when she leaves me alone here in america on one of her top secret treks to europe to do some of the badass nude modeling that hopefully she’ll send to me for christmas.

speaking of babes, went down the hall today. super cute girl who i really like is walking down the other way, turns off. i think to myself, “maybe you should go across the street to the drugstore and get some deodorant just incase you see her again.” i seemed to have forgotten to shower this morning. showered late afternoon yesterday, but, you know.

so i hop in the elevator. and guess who climbs on board? she is so damn cute. dammit! leans over to see if the correct button is pushed. im sure she got a terrible whiff.

elevator opens, i let her exit first, nice smile, maybe she has a code in her gnose. lets hope so. walks off with her nice skirt and tall boots. me? speechless.

so many things i coulda said.

hi mighta worked.

got to the store got some of the largest, most phallic bananas ever grown. then the gayest man in america wrote a check and took forever doing it.

i will drink every time somebody writes a check from now on.

quick shoutout: if my man MC Cridland is out there, thanks for the pictures! i dont have your email address!!!

the picture on the left is of the two sisters from madpony. they write about me because they think i will give them hits, i write about them because this time next year they will have four times the hits that i get and i will want that traffic.

they were bored over thanksgiving weekend and the younger one called me. my caller ID blocks calls from underaged girls but somehow they got through. damn security holes. anyhow, if you believe what they write, this is what a 15 year old girl looks like talking to me on the phone.

kristin, the older one, says that i like lauren better. its true. i like her better cuz she listens to my advice. i told them both to get a wishlist and only lauren got one and bam, first day, got something from it. somehow i need to get a cut of those profits.

kristin says that in 3 years when lauren is legal i will be the one calling her on the phone. i tell her no way am i gonna let some 18 yr old in on my social security.

see how we are?

speaking of x, kids write me all the time asking me if they should do this drug or that drug or they ask me if i really drink as much rum as i say i do, etc.

heres all you need to do in life, people: say hi to the pretty girl in the elevator. that right there will beat the hell out of any drug or mixed drink.

if you really want to go for it, ask for her number.

trust me, if i had gotten her number my heart would be beating, thered be a lite film of perspiration on my skin, and i would feel like dancing.

desert flower

it started off fine, sopranos at this little dive bar where everyone is broke and no one talks to each other. quiet. dark. pool table is silent, jukebox only has a few old school jazz cds and doesnt really work. you give the bartender a buck and he lets you play a few tracks.

its in one of the worst parts of hollywood but its a great bar because it doesnt have any of those stupid Miller Geninue Draft or Budweiser bikini posters of chicks you’ll never meet. Just bottles lined up nice, peanuts, glasses, and losers.

They have a tv over the “stage”. Apparently the place used to have a go go dancer back when hollywood was a little more glamorous, because go go dancers are the epitome of class, but now the stage houses the old rack stereo system. turntable on top, double cassette deck, single cd player, records warping below.

most of us watched the tv. i had a hot cider and spiced rum. its getting cold in town.

cute alternachick always likes to try to fix me when she sees me in there. she reads this. hi baby. sometimes she’ll get on me about my clothes. she’ll say, every pay check just buy one new thing. a shirt. a pair of pants. a sweater. before you know it you’ll be dressing sharp.

i dont want to dress sharp. i want to look like i belong in a fucked up hollywood bar on a sunday night, i tell her.

she tells me i look like an immigrant from hondouras.

i look down at my bart simpson tshirt, old black cords, kmart sneakers, green flannel shirt, plastic sacks of oranges.

i tell her she looks like britney murphy’s stand in for 8 mile. she smiles. her gold tooth sparkles at me.

shes not so bad. really looks more like helena bonham carter in fight club, just not as classy.

arent you tired of being broke? she asks me.

who says im broke, i pay for all your drinks dont i?

do you have a grand in the bank?

no.

then youre broke. quit being an asshole.

truth was i was tired of being broke. i just didnt want to tell her. she was the best thing in that bar, next to the jukebox.

why dont you sell out and write like a normal human being? she asked and squeezed the lime into her wiskey sour.

why dont you sell out and become an administrative assistant.

we clinked glasses.

to keeping it real, she toasted.

we drank and she said real quiet, if you were twenty one again what would you do differently?

i said, i would go to photography school right after i got my BA.

i said what about you?

she said, i would get a boob job and become a publicist.

alison lives

40 million people have AIDS.

nobody cares.

no one really changes how they live. the rich dont think that it’ll happen to them, and the poor think they have nothing to lose.

certain churches tell their parishioners not to wear condoms and those ministers should be burned at the stake.

today metafilter has completely redesigned their page and are only allowing topics that are AIDS-related.

right on, metafilter. but even youre smart enough to know that we’re all doomed.

the rich white investor would much rather support breakthroughs like Viagra and Rogaine and cloning themselves than AIDS research and education and prevention like free condoms in your phone bill, etc. but i dont blame them entirely. or the republicans, or the president who seriously doesnt give a fuck even though his wild alcoholic daughters are prime targets for the kiss of death.

twenty one, drunk, loose and crazy? beware the bush twins.

shit, beware everyone. call me paranoid all you want, im not going down like that, and tell me the planet wouldnt be a better place if everyone thought like that.

on second thought, keep it to yourself, keep it all to yourself.

keep your germs and viruses and reckless behavoirs to your own self.

practice safe sex they say. practice makes perfect.

bang everyone in the residence halls if you want and use a condom every time. thats practice.

then when you have a long term relationship, still use a condom.

ashley’s twenty years old. pure as the driven snow. has not been around the block. has been tested recently. still we use condoms every single time and she is a satisfied girl, let me tell you. so much so that she tells her friends.

what i wish she was telling her friends was that we’ve never had unsafe sex ever.

and after each practice session she lays there with goosebumps

and hair standing on end

quivverring

heart beating

flushed

and safe,

fuckers.

metafilter

and all it’s doing is letting the dreams seep through while im at my most vulnerable.

did i say dreams?

nightmares were more like it.

went to the printer to pick up the books. hi, tony pierce, i have an order.

when did you place the order?

about three weeks ago?

oh yes, mr. pierce. we cannot print this book. it’s obscene.

pardon me?

we dont print obscenity or pornography or anti-american sentiment.

exactly what part of my book is obscene?

several parts, if i recall.

tell me which ones and i’ll take it out.

mr. pierce, we are not editors, we are publishers.

youre fucking assholes is what you are! you just didnt want to do the work.

see, thats profanity.

youre out of your mind.

please exit our place of business, here is your manuscript.

so youre saying you wouldnt print the Catcher in the Rye?

of course we would.

it has lots of Fucks in it.

no it doesnt.

it certainly does!

well, thats art, its different.

next riot, im coming here and burning this place down. i dont care if im in maui. im getting on a plane and burning this place down.

good. we have plenty of insurance, and now we have a prime suspect. good bye.

then i found myself in france and they too were debating as to whether it was obscene.

oui, they kept saying.

mais oui.

barberman