to protest the war im going on a date friday.

actually i took a beautiful girl up on her offer of coming over to my house, flipping on the fireplace, and allwing her to model her collection of catholic girl skirts.

believe it or not but i actually passed on this not to long ago in a slight lapse of sanity, but thankfully sometimes you get a second chance to make a first impression and after a few keystrokes via AOL instant messenger, the date is on.

i havent been on a date date in a while, and this is not only that but its a blind date.

shes blind.

just kidding. although she must be if she wants to go out with me in the state that im in right now. hair-wise, that is. its not a pretty sight. but its cool. i have a wide variety of hats and fright wigs.

one of the xbi security guards asked me if i would take off my laker cap today so he could see how im doing up there, and then he confided in me that he didnt recognize me when i first appeared bald at the office a few months back.

undercover, i told him.

bullshit, my buddy said behind me and slapped me in the back of the head.

anyway, to all the people who i disappointed by not showing more scantilly clad women, which i promised to protest the war, i hope this shot of pam anderson lee rock makes up for it a little bit.

i will make sure to keep focused.


by the way tomorrow we will start focusing in on the entertainment business a little more, so make sure to get your free two month memberships to, as i will be referencing them. they have an incredible site full of a ridiculous amount of resources and good writing.

if i hadnt been busy doing laps in the company pool today on the roof of the transunion building i would have talked about this weeks box office grosses, but the spirit got in me and i just happened to have a pair of swim trunks in my book bag.

loving Crime and Punishment, thanks alabama.

how to live

White Stripes



“Seven Nation Army”

I’m gonna fight ’em off

A seven nation army couldn’t hold me back

They’re gonna rip it off

Taking their time right behind my back

And I’m talking to myself at night

Because I can’t forget

Back and forth through my mind

Behind a cigarette

And the message coming from my eyes

Says leave it alone

Don’t want to hear about it

Every single one’s got a story to tell

Everyone knows about it

From the Queen of England to the hounds of hell

And if I catch it coming back my way

I’m gonna serve it to you

And that ain’t what you want to hear,

But that’s what I’ll do

And the feeling coming from my bones

Says find a home

I’m going to Wichita

Far from this opera for evermore

I’m gonna work the straw

Make the sweat drip out of every pore

And I’m bleeding, and I’m bleeding, and I’m bleeding

Right before the lord

All the words are gonna bleed from me

And I will think no more

And the stains coming from my blood

Tell me go back home

kate sullivan + state sarah + that broken girl

could today be any more beautiful?

more glorious? more sunshiny, warmy, springtimey, luscious, delicious, mouth wateringly wonderful?

it’s the cubs home opener, too.

why aren’t you here?

if you were here id ask for the boss to let me off early, like at noon, and he’d say, tony, because you’re the fucking man, sure. and then put a $20 into my front shirt pocket and shake my hand.

if you were here we’d take the 720 to santa monica beach and squirt water into the clowns mouth at the pier.

and then let the clown chase us cuz i do that shit to him every day off.

if you were here we’d rent mountain bikes and coast down venice boardwalk taking a swig out of our flasks every time we passed someone we’d do. then we’d eat buck hot dogs and watch the elderly play paddle tennis.

if you were here we’d then go to muscle beach and watch the gay guys flex for the tourists, and the brothas slam for the sistas. we’d try on sunglasses and buy tube socks from the chinese. we’d buy bootleg dvds of chicago for ten bucks, but we’d talk them down to seven pretending we weren’t american.

if you were here we’d eat fish tacos from a roach coach where the mexicans crouch in the shadows of an old brick building the way that they do. i’d put on too much hot sauce for you and you’d scrunch your face after you tasted it, but id say it puts hair on my chest and id lift my acdc shirt and you’d lift your tsar baby doll tee and the mexicans would fall over spooking the seagulls who flap away to the safety of a busstop.

if you were here we’d get two forties of mickeys, take off our shoes, and walk in the sand to the nude beach and pass out after the rasta dude passes us and we laugh and laugh off the contact high and then bake in the california sun.

if you were here we’d wake up burnt and drink the rest of our warm beer cuz you call it alcohol abuse if you waste any.

if you were here you’d get a henna tattoo that said tony in such crazy cursive you have to stare at it for like ten minutes

which is always your secret plan.

and then we’d start a band.

dirty fez + roxy cat + splink + dullest blog ever