hi happy mr. lobster man.

hi, tony. im not a lobster, im a crayfish, and im a self-reproducing female.

please just send me back to hell.

i have a bone to pick with you, mister.

skip it. just shoot me in the head. right now.

what do you do for a living, really.

im a butler.

come on, really.

im a sous chef.

here i am a self reproducing crayfish, a talking one at that, and youre going to sit there and bullshit me?

im telling you, i make some badass sous.

what you arent is a writer. and i want to know why.

probably because if i actually wrote for a living, i probably wouldnt be talking to a fucking crayfish on my blog at ten thirty at night.

im a non-fucking crayfish.

you’re annoying.

you are what you eat, i suppose.

what do you eat, anyway?


what are you talking about?

im a bottom dweller, holmes. a janitor of the sea floor.

ok, gross.

exactly, now if i had anything other than shit-plucking claws, dont you think i would do something other than what i have been doomed to do each day?

like had what?

like had HANDS, asshole. if i had hands, i wouldn’t eat fish turds each day. i would eat sandwiches. tostadas!

you’d probably need a bigger mouth though, too.

go ahead and rub it in, why dont you?

sorry, crayfish.

my point is, you have hands, not claws.


so dont eat shit for a living.


pretty girl sent me a picture of herself naked last night.

these things didnt happen to me before i began blogging. let me think, did it? no, it definately didnt.

and shes young, america, youn-ung.

probably too young.

funny thing is, so much that we boys do in life is so that beautiful young girls will pay attention to us and want us to see them naked. it’s why i took saxophone lessons in grade school, and why i dress so damn fly.

still, theres something inside me that says for me not to go for it.

i think deep down im a scientist stuck in the body of a slacker.

i am very interested in so many things and i like to see how they work. once i was tangled up with a pretty girl and all i wanted to do was trace the outline of her leg with my finger. it was the closest i felt comfortable getting to her. some girls i just want to kiss. some i just want to look at from across the room.

young girls couldnt possibly understand this behavoir.

hell, i barely understand it.

plus the idea of human guinea pigs isnt a very popular one, but it’s not like i mean any harm by it.

to me everything is an experiment. everything is fiddling with something to see how it reacts, see how it works, see how i work. timothy leary said he didnt do drugs to see what drugs did, he did them to see what his brain was about. lots of times either im trying to figure out what my heart is about, or my brain, or other people’s hearts.

you can learn alot about people by kissing them or by trying to sell them something.

try it.

im sure quite a few of the women that ive been involved with were experimenting, in one way or another with me, and when they were done with me, they dumped me like a heavy bag of laundry. my feelings were a little bruised at first, but when i got my senses together i realized that i just got to spend two amazing nights with a firey redhead direct from dublin. why on earth would i consider that a bad thing?

it does become a bad thing when feelings get involved and the catch 22 of kissing is that feelings are bound to get worked up, which they should.

which is why i just sit at home most days working on my web page, alone, on the other end of an aol chat window where some of the hottest women in north america say some of the sweetest things and show me all the things i could have if i merely hopped in my flying car and zoomed away.

last night i worked on indexing a bunch more photo essays.

nobody got hurt.

in other news, this chick just writes whenever the hell she damn well pleases, doesnt she?

people have been pretty nice about the bald head.

little did i know it would give me so much material for witty comebacks.

why did you cut off your hair?

1. bored

2. got in a fight with a skinhead.

3. to protest the war.

4. cuz i was sick of girls lusting me for my ‘fro.

5. i wanted to look more mexican

6. cuz i hate the attention that my afro gave me.

7. why should cancer patients have all the fun?

8. cuz its trendy.

9. cuts a whole ten minutes off my morning routine.

10. cuz this one chick said she’d do me.

11. cuz my barber was in a hurry.

12. cuz i wanted to make you smile.

13. cuz im not dorky enough.

14. trying to keep it real.

15. i told myself that when i turned 100 i would do it and i flaked.

16. the girls now cant stop looking at me.

17. cuz George Bush would never do it.

18. to protest the Tribune’s unfair treatment of the Cubs

19. wanted to see if the ladies would want to feel my head if i did.

20. tired of sex

funny thing happened last night. businessman came near the elevator, suit, tie, briefcase. couldnt have been dressed any better.

he sees me in the far elevator and takes a step towards it, then sees my shaved head and stops in his tracks and presses the button of a different elevator.

very interesting.

i liked it.

of course i waved him into my elevator and kept the door open for him.

until he got close and then the doors hit him as he walked in.

f the man.

got home and totally enjoyed the lakers double overtime victory over the rockets despite not having shaq.

mark madsen, the ming stopper. who knew?

31. brett lamb

32. blackmask online

how to be hip

the phone is ringing

the email is flowing, the hits are breaking records, even the la times reporter who i sorta dissed is writing me nice things, and i show up to go to work to save the world and the lack of respect just totally blows my mind.

i was polishing chopper one, detailing it, making sure everything was perfect. perfect is the only standard that we deal in at the xbi. no one admits to it because they know it’s ridiculous but they dont ever correct you if you say it, and its not like they dont love correcting you. but perfect is what they want and perfect is what i give them and do they tell me that i did a perfect job last week, or yesterday, or today?

no. it’s only things above and beyond that gets that sort of “praise”, and since theres nothing over and above perfect, i get no praise.


all i want to do is fly the bird and take out the bad element.

it barely pays for anything outside of food and lodging, but money has never driven me. it’s always been fun thats moved me, and for awhile, keeping the mean streets of the city of angels safe was fun for me.

some of the big wigs at the agency called me into a conference room this afternoon. there was a report made out about me. it wasnt good.

we dont think youre taking your post very seriously.

i thought they were talking about the fact that i installed an mp3 player in chopper one. a sweet 100 gig jobber.

but no. they were upset at the tshirts i was wearing.

i said, im in a helicopter. who can see me?

they said, its a red flag. plus its a bad example for the younger guys.

my gwar tshirt only instilled fear in those who ever saw me running out of a flying car to come beat their sorry asses. they werent buying it. they wanted me to wear a tight tucked-in black shirt. i said, if i wanted to dress like a bartender, i would be a damn bartender.

other night i was in front of hundreds of people. strangers. i said stuff and they laughed.

at work, nobody laughs.

not one fucking person.

they told me they didnt trust me, or respected me, they told me that it would take a long while until they did. a long while of being perfect and taking on a ton more responsibility.

what youre doing right now, they said, is a very little peice of

and one of them took his thumb and forefinger and made a motion like he was taking a flea by its wings and removing it from the corner of his desk.

i forget what the rest of what the other guy said.

all i know is i have been working my fucking ass off and some guy was saying that it wasnt good enough, and it was little.

men know what the word little means.

it doesnt mean, fucking a tony, we love you.

29. john m.

30. joh3n

and i walked past the barbershop as i made my way to the busstop, and thought about the many times that they made a comment about my afro.

and an hour later i had no hair on my head.


mad pony