have i told you that life isnt fair?

have i told you that work is hell sometimes like on hot days up in a whirlybird when all you want to do is take off your shoes and walk on the beach for even 15 minutes.

i want to take off my shirt and lay in the sun and listen to floyd zep doors dead santana janes pixies angus malcom, me and the ladies went to rock n roll thai the other night and first they put in pixies doolittle then they put in porno for pyros and i couldnt have picked two better cds or ten better dishes that we munched to.

i want to borrow somebodys golden retriever and somebody elses frisbee and somebody elses girlfriend and somebody elses convertible and i want to drive everyone to zuma where i belong today.

have i told you ive had the most wonderful life?

do you know i have the bestest friends and the nicest inbox.

when im up here chasing criminals and listenening to all the drama in my earpiece the best way for me to protect my soul is to remember that this thing could collapse any minute and the next minute i will be a splat on the 405 only to be cooked by the firey explosion and rush hour traffic.

so i think about the nice things, like spider rings and candy necklaces on girls with experience.

the devil messes with my hairline and my dumb face and my kidneys and my confidence but the angels send a parade of miracles my way every damn day.

cubs are still in first place.

cubs will stay in first place.

this guy we’re staking out doesnt know there are twenty xbi agents listening to his every word.

he keeps singing living la vida loca to himself.

one of our guys is calling him gay, but our info says hes not gay. now the debate is whether or not its gay to be humming or singing or whistling ricky martin.

now one of our sharpshooters, a woman, is asking us why we men are so concerned if someone is gay or not.

now i cant get that stupid song out of my head.

now im singing it in my microphone.

now lots of people are singing it in their microphones!

now im laughing.

allison + sarah + oliver

is how do you blog about it?

gentlemen are taught to not kiss and tell. and one of the tricky dance steps of getting a girl to trust you is to ensure her that you wont blab all about her super soft skin, totally waxed everything, and the way she moved perfectly.

danish. blonde hair everywhere. little mermaid tattoo. if you’re lucky she’ll show you.

nineteen. n-n-n-n-nineteen.

how do these girls at nineteen know so much.

when i was nineteen i didn’t know shit. i still don’t know shit. but i certainly didn’t know about fuck.

and last night i fucked like i was nineteen – cautious, quickly, and apologetically.

what’s danish for oops lets try it again in a minute.

many moons ago she found me through a google search for “cheerleaders”. by the way thank you google. thank you. thank you. thank you.

her english is good but wasn’t always so good and at first i thought she was being mean to me and im very sensitive and i stopped chatting with her.

later we got to chatting again and she asked me what fuck was since i use it in so many ways on here and she was confused.

nineteen and naked in no time.

she said i didn’t look american and i said she didn’t look danish and i put on guns and roses and i was doing it with a girl i just met.

who am i?

what world am i living in what life am i leading what will my judgement day look like what will the neighbors think what is this girl who is so quiet thinking of how im doing what i probably shouldn’t be doing but why shouldn’t we be doing what we totally want to be doing.

didn’t last long. too turned on. far too hot in therre. blonde hair everywhere.

i wont kiss and tell but i’ll lick and lie

she said i will only be in town for three more days i said stay here she said she couldn’t and we held hands and looked at the mariah carey poster across my room and i told her that i wish i had a plasma tv, and i wanted to tell her that i could have taken the plasma tv that we swiped from a counterfeiter in the valley but gave it to an old folks home. guilt is a motivator.

i have a baseball that many of my girlfriends have signed for me to look at on rainy days.

im now thinking of starting a new baseball of girls who’ve wanted to kiss me because of this url.

you need these things when your self confidence could breakdance on the head of a pin and you have the memory of a goldfish.

she was tall and tanned and lean and quiet until she wasn’t so quiet and she said she had to get back to her girls who were probably destroying the hotel in anaheim and i walked her to her white rentacar and the security guards from the church across the street rode their bicycles in circles and watched

and then they talked on their walkie talkies

and then they just sat on their bikes.

and when she drove off i esp’ed to them that i didn’t understand any of this either.

beta blog + meesh + mc browns party pics + hft

lots. you have no idea how much.

there was a little gunplay in the office this morning, which is always interesting cuz you want to return fire and you know others want to pick you off if they can, especially if youre normally flying high in chopper one and unavailable for retaliation.

i heard something whiz past my ear and i aimed at where i thought it was coming from but there was only the hot new russian chick over there and unless someone was hiding beneath her desk it was either her or i was mistaken.

i intentionally missed her just to see her reaction, she gave me a look like wtf, negro. meanwhile the entire office was intentionally missing people which only multiplied the bullets being spread throughout our old building.

slugs got caught in the bulletproof glass sending spiderwebs of plexiplastic through the darkened windows, other bullets ricocheted here and there. none of us took cover, just shot more. it was silent except for a police scanner and plings vreeems and plinks, and of course the occasional, you fuck!

dude next to me got hit in the chest. good thing he had his bulletproof wifebeater on. still it got him pissed and he jumped on his desk and really started aiming at people so five of us aimed at his gun. one person shot it out of his hand but then another person accidentally shot it back into his hand and one missed entirely and nailed his kid rock belt buckle and ricocheted into the big screen which immediately exploded the picture tube freaking everyone out.

so then everyone shot at the television.

one of the marines made it down the fire pole with a shot gun and cocked it and yelled that the next person who shot at anyone would receive the wrong end of his wrath and for a second i thought about some trickery starting with aiming at the fire alarm bell and hoping it would ricochet into one of his eyeballs, but nah, fuck that.

everyone mellowed out and then everyone got yelled at and then everyone said they were going to take lunch, and then the russian chick shot once more at me and said she was sorry to the marine who aimed his big stick right at her cute little upturned nose.

he calls her frenchy for some reason, and i hope its cuz he thinks shes french.

otherwise itd be gross.

he took her upstairs to get reprimanded and the only sound i heard as i fired up my computer was the crackling of the small fire caused by the picture tube of the former television in the corner.

and the police radio that kept on going and going and going

bam.

and then it stopped.

my eastcoast girlfriends + a sorority girl out on her own + azarock!

i dont even know where to begin. yes tsar played, yes i met a dancer at my local bar, yes i got to hang out with my old pal aj and her lovely co-conspiriter, yes i got to see a ton of my friends, yes i got to take lots of blurry pictures all weekend.

yes, im the luckiest man in north america.

if only you knew, naysayers of the cyberworld.

tonight i have plans to do laundry with ms karisa the besta and we will do nothing but illegal things, anonymous comment leavers, and each time we do, we will raise a toast to you.

got an email that the xbi will be closed on friday and closed on monday to celebrate memorial day, a day that means a little more to us than it does to many other companies since so many of our employees are either former military or come from military families. because of that we have all agreed to let each other spend this weekend with family and loved ones.

plus its a four day weekend.

my good pals natasha and fidel offered me astros / cubs tickets at minute maid park, excellent seats they say. maybe the best seats in the house, but unfortunately i have to pass. i have no frequent flier miles to Hobby. but thanks, kids.

i have the greatest friends. have i told you?

whats really nice to hear is when other people think so too.

whats also nice is when hot chicks daydream about me.

whats also nice is when the big man links me.

whats also nice is when the cubs are still in first place.

treacher wants to know why i used to link him on the left hand side, but i dont anymore. the answer is because im a lame-ass and i need an intern to maintain my links. send your qualifications to lewinski@tonypierce.com

gratzi

treacher + dawn + blogcritics

when you turn around and see this guy looking at you.

every party is going to have its share of randoms, but the quality of your randoms defines the quality of your bash.

most people judge parties by the quality of hot chicks, amount of beer on tap, or the variety of exotic drugs in the candy dishes.

but if you dont have those things then you dont even really have a party in the first place so step bitch.

any hollywood gettogether is going to attract beautiful people and rock stars and tv stars and superheros and runaway teens from maryland, bloggers, and theives. and youre going to get those who either were invited by the invited of the invited, or who overheard the address, or who just walked by and got lucky.

bad parties will have drunken frat boy water polo beer bongers who keep jamming the steve miller into the boom box even though the stereo is bumping bitches brew.

bad parties will have coked out mods hogging up the only bathroom applying eyeliner and sniping and ignoring the knocks at the door from people who seriously need to pee.

bad parties will have sleepy neighbors kicking the floor which is your ceiling and call the cops and peek through the blinds once the cops come and tell you that they dont like the smell they dont want to know anything about and the other cop says sir is that absinthe?

and i submit that these parties can be predicted, determined and graded by the quality of strangers who find their way into your home for the festivities. if you look around and see assholes, kick em out, they will fuck the shit up, ruin the mood, and tweak the vibe.

if you look around and see a dude with some jrr tolkien shit tattooed on his arm guzzling a miller high life sporting an eighty five bears super bowl shuffle tshirt and an excellent fake british accent, then you can take off your shoes and enjoy the bash cuz its gonna be okay.

mc brown is the other red flag youve got to look for. if he’s in the house that trumps four or five dumbasses.

if you look around and cant find a random, you’re probably the random. even in your own house.

my terrible memory was exposed when a beautiful young woman reminded me that she and i took in a concert together back in san francisco. apparently we had seen victoria williams at the great american music hall and youd think id remember even some of that, especially with such a pretty girl, but nope. zip. nada. thanks, xbi.

and i was the only drunktard dumb enough to be sipping the baby blue absinthe all night, in big gulps at first, and then waterered down slurps once the walls started moving and the voices started speaking czech.

the hallucinations were vivid and fluid. i coulda swore i saw like five six people on my bed listening to weezer and singing along.

i could have sworn i saw a butterlfly flutter in with a record player and prince’s purple rain on vinyl.

and thats where things get fuzzy.

and last night i went to bed, caught by the sun, and this morning i woke up with the worst hangover ive ever had.

so bad i needed two asprin.

thanks all the nice people who came and drank and smoked and had a great time.

i had a great time too.

souptree + katie + moxie + welch + sara

good thing about the blog is people can try to connect the dots and the dots here dont jump around like the verbal word does or the wandering hand.

moxies about to pick me up and take me to the tsar show. mc brown should be there. my old pal aj.

maybe carlisa, maybe jeanine, maybe katie hall and her handsome beaux.

maybe ian and grumman and some of the fine fresh fellows from my past.

i need to jump in the shower but i need to write to you, girl who claims to be my 3242343th fan.

theres no single class that you can take to learn how to write better. i say take them all.

better yet, if youre in college, write for the newspaper. and dont listen to one word that teachers say that are mean.

listen, but dont take it personally. you are not your grammar, youre not your spelling, youre not your short stories, you are not your poems.

we know this is true because when someone writes you and says oh that was a great story, you must be a great person, you say, no, its just a story, you dont really know me. same goes when people see good pictures of us, get kissed by us, or like our hair.

so the reverse is true. if they say negative things, dont stop writing. write more.

you are a person with stories to tell so tell them and fuck those unknown motherfuckers.

if youre not in college write several times a day in your blog and show your innermost thoughts.

make up deadlines for yourself. i have a deadline of 10am PST, 1pm PST and 6pm PST. good news is i dont always have to hit my deadlines, and its not so much a have-to as it is a get-to.

i get to say hi to everyone several times a day, i think thats so incredible.

hi everyone.

i get to have some ideas get from my head to your screen to your head. sometimes you understand. sometimes you dont.

kristin from mad pony never seems to understand me.

maybe its cuz shes a southerner.

they can be a little, you know, slow.

what i dont understand are people who you can say nice things to every day, and then the one day you make a little joke and they think youre serious.

people of earth: i am never serious.

unless im saying nice things.

nite, everyone.

how to be hip

he will be missed. born to new york jews who moved him to hollywood as a lad, pierre was everyones favorite.

so funny we sometimes didnt believe him when he was being totally serious.

even at his farewell lunch i grilled him rapid fire on the bands that he probably wouldnt like.

do you like boston?

no

rush

no

kansas?

no

elo?

hell no.

did that for a while till we got to

pink floyd

no.

no?

theyre pretentious.

he also didnt like a lot of movies, tv shows, and directors that youd think hed like.

once he said that if he ran into quentin tarentino he would punch him in the head.

other day he ran into quentin tarentino and, infact, did not punch him in the head, but he did steal his wallet and that afternoon we all ate fried chicken and toasted our lemonades to pulp fiction.

the other day our boss was out at the track and around lunchtime pierre said thats it im going home.

lefty said but we’ve got crime to fight

pierre said fuck the crime

ahmed said what about the team

pierre said fuck the team

just then raquel and dominique came in from outside and ahmed said that pierre was leaving for the day

raquel said, pierre but you cant leave

and he said if i stay i just might kill you

it was funny but a little not funny, and he went home

if i had a talk show named bloggers i would have pierre be on the show even though he doesnt have a blog. id do it cuz hes a cool guy and i will miss him on the team.

interesting thing about working is you end up around people that you probably wouldnt even talk to on the street.

makes you wish for the day to come where it would be ok to talk to people on the streets.

55. ernest

sometimes i just think mine are a tad less intelligent than yours.

one guy writes me nearly every day. sometimes long letters, sometimes short letters.

i never write him back because i barely have time to write back the good people who write me nice things.

for all the people out there, by the way, who write me nice things, be it comments on the site, or emails or boobie pictures, etc. thank you very much. all the nice things make me so happy.

so anyhow, this one critic of mine today tried to get on me because everything i write “is all about me”.

dumbass, look at the url.

this whole freaking thing is an excersise in first person narcisistic fiction about a superhero xbi agent who steals from crooks and adorns his beach house and hollywood bungalow with the booty, and then dates barely legal teens.

how hard is that to understand?

also how hard is it to conceive that if i was a decent writer who was capable of things like record reviews, political analyis, or even basic sentence structure, i would be getting paid for this shit as opposed to giving it all away like a fucking bitch.

on a good day i look at 15-20 web sites. i never write mean emails to people. even if they deserve it. and trust me, lots of people deserve some negative feedback.

occasionally, on rare occassions, i will write the author of a web page. usually i write very short emails saying nice work.

if even a tenth of the readers wrote me an occasional short email or left a short comment saying nice work, id have 40-50 comments on my page each day. it’s not about the numbers though. im over the idea of comments on this blog. im just saying.

anyhow, the critic also doesnt like the fact that i grammar bad.

fuck grammar. if i seriously paid attention to the things that i wrote on here i would probably only get one post out a day. im averaging three, and all of them are better than my critic’s emails.

again, i do this during the 15 minute government mandated breaks that i take during work. i also do this for the period of my lunch when im not lunching. that gives very little time to spell check, grammar check, or even proofread my shit. what you see is what i felt at the moment and sometimes (like last week) you might find a post that is missing an entire sentence, or end of sentence, so dont be so weirded out if a line is missing a period, mr. critic.

just because your momma missed her period 9 months before you were born dont get all uptight about me missing my periods

heres a bunch of periods for your ass. feel free to place them in any post that i forgot to use them in: …………………………………………………………………………………

and heres a fuck you for your inbox.

for the rest of you, i love you all. i hope you each have a pleasant weekend like klinger (pictured). i know i will. i have a blind date tonight, i get to see my favorite band tomorrow night, and i get to sit around in my boxer shorts and do nothing on sunday.

the only thing that could make this weekend better is if the cubbies swept the cardinals.

much love,

tony

i heart raymi + i heart party girls + i dont know who Quinn is

and my broken computer was on my doorstep, covered by my welcome mat, which wasnt necessary, im xbi, nobody is going to steal my stuff.

without consequence.

my bro jeff from rock group tsar totally fixed my shit and for that i love him. thank you jeff. my computer repair hero.

i should go into business with that man.

also on my doorstep was a mysterious box from a man im not sure ive ever met.

a fellow from Up North sent me two bottles of my new favorite booze: Absinthe.

no way could it be real Ansinthe, since its a mythical elixer, but the bottle sure was pretty and its possibilities persuaded a young woman to come over tonight and have an absinthe blind date with me.

peak upon peak jimmy johnson preached while he was coaching the cowboys.

plus i need to drown my sorrows. sux not to four-peat.

so last night i was able to mess around on my computer and chat with people of all sorts. some of whom i dont know why i chat with any more. it just brings pain and distress and sorrow and evil thoughts.

my mind has been bombarded with evil thoughts lately. maybe it was part of the eclipse. hopefully they will leave my head soon.

i just want to be good. thats all. just good.

so yeah, tonight also my good friend Greg will be coming over to the beach house. i havent seen greg in a while. he’s my bro. we’ll get to catch up a little. maybe he’ll bring his guitar over and play some songs for me. he’s my favorite guitarist you know.

and he writes some of the most wonderful songs.

im so very tired today.

hopefully theres nothing i have to do this morning and the crew will just let me take a little nappy-poo in the hangar.

dancing + joh3n + lago