im eating like a pig and chris told me that i looked skinnier and whatshername said i look skinnier and i have been pretty good about just water or diet pepsi at work and im making my own lunch.

ever since me and chris broke up i have been fascinated by animal magnetism.

in sports they call it chemistry.

sometimes there becomes conflict when someone who you are mentally physically and emotionally attracted to, and animally magnetized to, does some fucked up shit that pushes you away.

then somehow they become very far away. then they get very very close, physically. then feelings return.

and then your astrology becomes realized and you want to cry.

cuz you miss her.

and she feels good when you hold her.

and your sorry that you heard her cry on the phone the other day. since what she had to say was so nice.

the balls in your court they say. but the balls always in my court.

i dont want to make the wrong desicion. weight of the world. wait.

when i lived in san francisco i didnt live on haight street for the first two years that i was there.

then when i did i thought, why the hell didnt i live here on day one.

my astrology this week tells me to go for the things that i really want.

not really want, but really really want.

no more bullshitting.

and there are two things that i know i really really want.

one of them i know i cant get cuz even though i would be perfect, well, sometimes, kids, you dont get it anyway.

im not going to get that one.

the other one i could probably get.

and yet neither of those is what i want most of all.

and that is to write really well, on my blog

every damn day.

to all of you.

treacher + vote for dc’s bikini girl + anti with the fisheye

karisa is one of my best advisors.

she thinks that i should date more girls here at the agency since she hears me talk about them a bunch, and because then i wouldnt have to keep what we do here so hush hush. she thinks that if something ever got leaked out to the wrong person it could be trouble for the whole agency.

her beliefs are pretty much shared by everyone at the xbi. in fact, this is one of the few companies that ive worked for that not only allows fraternization, but encourages it.

we have beers in every fridge. sexual harrasment rules are completely ignored. we even had a sadie hawkins dance last summer and i cant wait for this years one.

any time i go out on a date with someone who reads the busblog they always ask me how old i am. sometimes repeatedly. i think its because i look old in my pics, and i look younger in person.

usually i stick with the tried and true, 109 years old.

most of the girls are a little more persistant. i told one of them if she got naked i would consider telling her my real age.

poof, she was naked.

quite a shock for the people in front of the Orange Julius where we were enjoying our Hot Sams pretzels.

yes, i like to take my lady friends to malls. shut up. theres a lot you can learn about a woman while you window shop with her.

i like to date girls who read my blog because i think its good for someone to know how you think. especially if how you think is different than a lot of the other people walking this crust. not that i think different in a good way different. but it is different.

for example, if someone has their heart in the right place, and theyre coming from a place of courage and trust, theres no way i would ever judge them. so when that girl was back at my house and got naked there, i didnt judge her for how her body looked, etc. if anything her body looked even more beautiful to me because she had less hang ups about it than i do about mine.

im not entirely sure that a lot of other men feel that way. not that im judging my brethren either. im just saying.

have you seen the new J.Lo video? the one where she pays tribute to Flashdance.

the video should be called Assdance because we see more of J.Lo’s famous rear than ever before. and i dont know if it has always been that different than your typical movie star / singer / uber-celeb, but it’s definatetly out there. and to me, i say rock on to J.Lo for having the guts to say, this is me, fuck you if you cant deal with it.

madonna, however, loses points to me this week, by watering down her anti-war video “American Life” which will debut today on MTV.

since when cant we as Americans put out a anti-war video whenever we damn well choose? and tell me when is there a better time to put out an anti-war video than during a so-called war?

the myopic view that supporting the troops is mutually exclusive from not supporting a war is retarded.

and its hella retarded to change a music video because a handful of flag wavers get their feelings hurt that you dont agree with them.

this doesnt mean that i dont still think that madonna is hot, but she used to be the epitome of courage.

now that she actually has something to lose, it’s disappointing that she has erred on the side of conservatism.

therefore i will not be dating her any time soon.

moxie

be prepared for massive laker coverage.

since the lakers are going to go back-to-back-to-back-to-back i figured that all you good people would like to know what its like to live in a championship city, pretty much at ground zero.

last night when chris and i were doing my laundry both of the televisions were set to the laker+warrior game. one of the beautiful things about sport is it transcends culture, language, status and economics.

there we were folding my cubs shirts and you could hear all these people in all their little accents clapping and cheering and talking to the tv.

kobe, no more mistakes-uh.

im no good at accents.

laker all the way.

sacramento dont have skill to beat shaq kobe and laker, my friend.

the owner of the laundrymat was sitting on an unused washer and pulled up a chair for an older man who appeared to be from ethiopia. several latin gentlemen folding their soccer shirts clapped when someone made a special play.

chris, because shes the greatest, cheered along.

shes a hot babe with curves who will girlwatch with you and watch every second of a basketball game with you as you wash your clothes. how does it get any better than that?

my only fear for the defending champs was Dallas. but now that michael finley is hurt they only have to worry about dirk, nick van smack, and steve nash. however if they want to hack-a-shaq theyve got some pretty big guys in the 7’6″ shawn bradley and the 7″ raef la frenz.

to be honest, i have no idea how the Lakers have made it this far with really just two players.

so you really have to give a lot of credit to the coach.

and, of course, the laker girls.

beck + spybabe

chris called me and told me that she was picking me up after work so we could do laundry and sure enough there she was right as the guy pulled the birds tail and before fred flinstone could slide down his dinosaur’s tail i was rounding the corner and i saw my baby sitting on a step exhaling a camel light.

she has blonde hair now. dark roots on purpose. a frayed green denim levis jacket, powder blue sweat pants and a wrinkle on her forehead because the generic pain killers her fuct up doct prescribed her weren’t worth the ten dollar copay and how do you tell someone, listen, i know a few things about meds and this shit isn’t working, i might look young enough to get carded, but im an adult and my shits fucked so give me the damn vicodin for this is why the good Lord made it.

but shes so sweet she just hangs up the phone and yells fuck into her pillow. fuck! and breaks down and sobs cuz it really hurts and it would be one thing if the doctor was unsure but this shits coming from the nurse practioner not even the doc but from some bitch who can only prescribe advil. and by the way, what fucking loser needs a prescription for advil.

meanwhile in america everybody has the hookup. this one, that one. look at her over there. yep, even him. dosed, drugged, done. and this is a girl who wont have a beer with her meal after the laundromat because the label clearly said no alcohol on the bottle of pills that don’t do shit.

and im all, don’t you remember even one day in isla vista?

she smiles and i take her hand. we’re in a booth in silverlake. the crest. its dark. theyre playing slow jams from the eighties. pointer sisters at the moment. it doesn’t sound cheesy. it sounds of all things, classic, for lack of a better word.

thank you for all the love you give me i tell her and she smiles and says my name.

its like groundwater. its vital. to not have to wait for the flood or the downpour, all you have to do is open your eyes and theres this super strong foundation that hasn’t wavered a smidge since it began.

which isn’t to say there weren’t disagreements. or fights. or nights where one party would huff to the guest room and put a blanket over his fro and try to go to sleep on the futon. there were disagreements.

and tears, and loud moments, and angry lipsticked messages on the mirror.

there were no angry lipsticked messages on the mirror.

but there were some loud moments.

and those moments usually ended up with the one in the soft comfy bed creeping over to the guest room after about twenty minutes and crawling into the futon with the tearful one and whispering all the right things as they both fell asleep among unopened boxes and books.

is it good for a man to want a lot of love in his life i asked her as we waited for liver and bacon and a thick burger with an onion ring and mashed potatoes and homemade chips.

and she said yes. its good.

she said i pretend that i don’t want it too, but i do.

and later she said that my hair didn’t look so bad

that in fact it looked good.

and the liver came and they gave me a mini pitcher of coke

and we both talked about how much sleep we were going to get as soon as we got home.

lago + mental spigot + joh3n

so it doesnt suprise me that meesh is surrounded by incredible nature, super famous celebrities, and neighbors like “aisha” who claims to be from sweden and single (pictured).

if america flowed me enough to get my car right now, i would drive to aspen and spend a week this summer with meesh and aisha to support them in any way that they require.

hark. whats this? meesh types, “We’ll be waiting and in dire need of some sexual healing.”

one of the good parts of being as old as i am is once you pass a certain age you start to have control over your emotions, mastery over your body. breathing technics come into play allowing for creativity like you aint never seen before.

can i actually heal? hmmm. thats a tough question.

whats toughest about this all is my mom reads my blog.

i might have to ask my mom to stop reading my blog.

the answer is fuck yeah ladies

why do you think they call it playing doctor.

other problem is some big wigs from across town are looking at this blog this week and i was trying to mellow it out but every time i do that it just makes the writing super boring. and then to make up for it i start cursing like a pirate. all in all you can understand why i cant get a paying writing gig to save my damn life, and why im stuck in this deadend job of saving lives of the good citizens of hell-a county.

today is humpday. time flies for me here at the xbi. i like it and i hate it. i never have any time to do the things that i need to do. and it seems like we never catch as many people as we want to and then its time to go home.

i think ive compensated for that lately by staying up till 3am trying to write something good. but the sad thing is i have such a hard time writing at night that it isnt even really worth it.

saw a little bird today who was orange. but my bus was late which made me late and by the time i passed him i was late for work and didnt have enough time to take his little picture for all of you bird watchers out there in the rock-a-sphere.

jack valenti supporting tim robbins as the baseball hall of shame continues to bungle even the simplest of chores: showing a classic baseball movie and letting the lead actor introduce it. if they cant pull this off, charlie hustle doesnt stand a chance.

last night with the Owens’ of Ventura, howard and billie, as lovely a couple as you could imagine, who treated me and my pal matt to choice seats behind home plate.

perhaps you have read howard’s wonderful blog that not only sports some level-headed political thought, but great design, and the courage to publish ones own poetry. i admire acheivements like those since i dont have the fortitude or ability to do any of those things.

howard is also a fantasy baseball geek like myself. and as matt is slowly becoming one himself it was fun to toss around some ubergeeky thoughts about rookie pitchers, strategies on autodrafts, and whether or not you should pinch run for old men like fred mcgriff when youre down by three runs.

i felt a little bad for billie who was completely surrounded by baseball nerds, but i imagined she knew what she was getting herself into. but maybe she didnt know the ridiculous depths our sick passion for the national pasttime would sink to when we started contemplating exactly where the pitcher should bunt the ball in the top of the seventh with two runners on.

the correct answer is “in play.”

it was candlestickian cold last night at chavez ravine. but after an eighth inning hot cocoa i was completely satisfied.

thanks to the ultra slow style of hideo nomo and jake peavy, four hours later the game was finally entering the ninth inning.

i didnt care.

baseball is pretty much the only thing that could keep me outside in the cold, happilly.

i love you baseball, classiest sport there is.

48. The Coyote’s Bark

after being dropped off i chatted on the internet with pretty much all of america and when they were done with me i was able to do a mini photo essay about the evening which i hope you all approve of.

today is wednesday. which means the brezney astrology for last week is almost over.

im happy it’s almost over because it said i was gonna cry this week.

i didnt cry even once.

i take that back. i nearly did when a hot chick told me she had zwan tickets for me saturday night.

on the floor.

rupaul + moby + mc brown

it would scare the holy crap out of you.

typically i get about a thousand hits a day to the site and the blog. lately its gone down a little. whatev.

in a perfect world you would think that as the popularity of blogging grows, so, therefore, my hits would steadilly increase. but that doesnt make sense. because with more blogs comes more choice, therefore less hits.

regardless, that southern gentleman, the Instapundit gets 100 times the hits i get and the growth of the web seems to only build his readerbase. but he and i are playing different games.

im trying to make something out of nothing. people come here and they have absolultely no clue what theyre going to get. mostly because the author has no idea what he’s going to give.

instapundit is going to tell you all the things you wish your newspaper and cnn would give you: news, politics, law, and current events in a trustworthy, intelligent, concise manner.

busblog is going to probably just break a few hundred rules of grammar and spelling in a roundabout way of talking about Self.

thus 1/100 of the popularity.

for some reason i consider Instapundit a peer. which is like a mite considering a crocodile a peer. sure they walk the same grounds, feel the same sun, and God loves them in the same way, but theyre not damn peers. one is an incredible super creature. the other is a fucking mite.

this mite is very comfortable believing that the thousand points of light are really a hundred, but more like ten: chris, karisa, azarock, madpony, basart, and my little brother who rips my shit off and puts it in collegehangover dot com.

i dont look at myself that way out of any sense of humbleness, although i am incredibly humbled by the talent and popularity of other bloggers in the blogosphere, but i guess in a way i dont even really think that the thousand people who read this are real readers and some are loyal readers and some are famous and some work in super cool places, and some might even work in places that i might even talk about.

with that said, Google, i love you.

Blogger, i love you even more.

im sorry if i made you think otherwise.

i am so loyal you dont even know, and all i wanted to do last night was let my man Bunsen get his props on the left hand tally.

im doing a weird little thing where im asking perfect strangers to give me, a perfect stranger, ten bucks for a car.

you know how ridiculous a concept that is?

its a science fair art project that if the Instapundit wanted to abuse his power he could be a millionaire in a week.

100,000 times $10 = InstaMillionaire.

i dont want to be a millionaire, i just want a car.

if i was a millionaire i would think all these babes were after me just for my fat wallet.

wait up.

where was i?

totally spaced out.

san dimas highschool football rules!

blogger + google + paypal + new photo spread

i normally say roy jones jr.

except i have a little more toned belly.

i do love the internet.

hi internet.

hi tony, baby.

ive gotten so much from you.

youve given so much.

concert tickets, mp3s, smut, driving directions, pizza, pharmaceuticals from canada, admirers, fashion tips, dates.

chopper one is rigged with the internet and i don’t know how they do it but they do. i don’t ask many questions, i just fly the damn thing and press the right buttons.

my favorite button, and i think ive discussed this before, is the low frequency destablizer.

it was improved this weekend and today we got to give it a real-life test.

these bad guys were hiding in a garage, we could see where they were thanks to their body heat. so we aimed the destablizer in their general direction and sent out beams of super low frequency sound waves.

imagine sudden sea-sickness.

imagine wanting to vomit, needing air. needing anything other than what you are having right now.

fuckers ran out retching within seconds, right into the waiting hands of the ground agents who allowed them to finish losing their breakfast jacks and then took them away to our holding cell of misery.

thing about the xbi is because we’re not really even supposed to exist, its not like you can take the rest of the afternoon off thinking that you just had a good day. at any point one of the criminals can come at you, or the cops, or the fbi, or the cia, or anyone.

so its not cool to say to someone, damn, im having the best day.

they’re afraid if you say that you’ll jinx it.

i don’t believe in jinxes.

i just believe in you.