its wonderful.

rode the bus in the rain after work to karisas favorite bar, not because karisa was going to be there, but because it was a block away from where this hot chick works.

she and i spent a lot of time together about a year ago, and then things ended with a slam of my back door.

just like all the women in my life this one was smart pretty funny incredible and successful.

xxx body xxx eyes. she resisted me, then fell for it, then we fought, then it ended.

the other day she told me that she had started reading my blog again, so after a few emails i asked her if she was still with her dude, and she said as a matter of fact she wasn’t, so i asked her if we could share a little drink together, she said she would like that.

all of this surprised me because my memory of her was that she didn’t like me, my lifestyle, the way i kissed, the way i was intimate, my hollywood mansion, my malibu beach house, my flying car, my taste in music, or, shall we say, my shoe size.

nothing in here is true.

still i was excited riding the bus to The Rendevous on las palmas, so much so that i cell phoned her ass to tell her i would be nine minutes late.

arrived, she was waiting, we embraced. she sat on one end of the booth, i wanted to sit on the other end but the springs on that end were so worn in the cozy dive bar that i was forced to sit closer to the young lady.

after a few rounds she began telling me that she had changed completely since we last met.

she told me that i was the reason that she had broken out of her shell, why she had finally allowed herself to live her own life, that i had inspired her to truly be herself and do the things that she wanted.

it was a really great story.

then she told me that she started a blog and began writing the day after we stopped hanging out, and that now that it has been updated regularly for a while you can see how she has grown.

all the flattery she dished my way while weaving this tale was making me grow.

i waited for her to tell me something bad, but she never did. infact she said that she loved coming to my homes. she loved being with me. she would come home buzzing and her friends would accuse her of being on drugs.

i was so happy and relieved to hear these things i couldn’t stop smiling.

she told me some really personal things that i wish i could reveal here, but, lets just say those things made me smile that much more.

then she told me that i always write how i cant believe why all these great things happen to me, and she said that i should stop being surprised, that the key to my success is that i don’t judge people, and girls feel liberated by that, and therefore let their hair down.

she said im girls gone wild in slippers.

and even though i hadn’t planned on doing it, i leaned in to kiss her

like old times

like we did last summer

but this girl wasn’t about going backwards anymore, and smilingly turned her head away giving me full access to the jugular

which i kissed

softly

like id never been there before.

sahalie + sharkbitten + instant gator

for a minute or two, since thats all the time they’re worth.

what fucking rock do these people crawl out from under?

it’s a comment box on a blog, folks. if you have something negative to say, why is it that you’re too fearful to leave your real name and a homepage and/or email address?

are you afraid i will track you down and email you a virus? are you afraid that im going to track you down and email you and call you a fucking dipshit?

im calling you a dipshit now! and not even for your opinions, but for your cowardace.

i barely write back the penthouse models who write me weekly and tell me that im the fucking shit. what an ego you must have to think i’d waste my time arguing with you about a comment that you left on my stupid blog.

its a blog!

the reason that i sign my name and homepage and email address on the comments that i leave on other people’s blogs and websites is because im not ashamed of my beliefs. i am strong enough to back my words with my name. i am courageous enough to have some imbecile email me back, if he so chooses, if he disagrees with my objection.

and if bro wants to start a little flame war with me, guess what, i’ll just hit delete. i got no time for flame wars. im no longer in junior high. this aint no bulletin board.

plus the email addresses i usually use go to my spam account heytony@hotmail.com

fill that box up as much as you want, dungeon masters.

the comments section of this blog, for all of you who dont know, is set up primarilly for people to tell me how fucking killer i am.

52. Michael C.

if you choose to disagree with me on my dumbass opinion, have the nads to leave your name and/or webpage and/or email address. i promise you i wont email you back. but if you have a website, i might look at it to see whatever opinions you have.

you can disagree with me about the commander and thief, that doesnt mean that everything you stand for isnt complete bullshit. you, for example, might have excellent taste in punk rock music. you might have design elements on your site that make me keep on coming back for more.

the least you can do is have the decency of the least of all of us for even drudge, as much of a republican houseboy as he is, dirty kneepads and all, has the decency to put his name behind his links and statements and lies and exaggerations.

i am seriously considering making the comments open only to those who have legit email addresses, or webpages, or even names.

but what i probably will start doing is just deleting the anonymous ones.

even though that goes against the freedom that i so love about this country. the freedom where even spineless idiots have a voice.

im just not so sure i want this sacred page to be their pissing floor.

matt + matt affleck + ken sings

i’ll cruise around the country a few times tasting the local beer. and i’ll ring the church bells. cuz people like crazy presidents who like ringing church bells.

id duck into mtv all the time and tell the kids that they aren’t rocking hard enough, and i would turn to whatever pretty boy is holding the mic and i’ll say who’s your generation’s led zeppelin, boy? and he’ll smile and listen to the people gasping in his earpiece.

and id get to blow shit up and dress like a faker and lie and bullshit the world and get paid doing it.

and if any of you motherfuckers even say shit to me even if i fuck up, i want you to remember how you’ve treated george walker bush who has suckered you into thinking that $1.89 a gallon for gas is a bargain.

you, who called the last one Slick.

i cant believe how many unemployed and underemployed smart people i know.

i want to not have to find bin laden, not have to kill saddam, not have to be smart, and not have to have anyone smart around me.

i don’t want to have to be responsible for the stock market, or education, or crime, or terrorism, or anything.

but i do expect to take credit for winning a “war” from a country that we’ve been defanging for the last twelve years, after we blew em up good the first time.

infact i only want to fight wars against countries where the armies wave white flags and hug my troops in their dusty sandals.

i don’t want any of you saying shit about my drunken daughters or read my lips father who traded arms for hostages and also fucked the economy.

first thing im going to do when i become president is legalize some drugs and abolish the designated hitter.

if the fcc is still around i’ll abolish that waste of tax dollars before the champagne at my inaugural gets flat.

i would not hide behind children like a coward on big issues that concern adults, titties on tv being a lessor one but definitely on the list if for any reason, symbolism.

misidentified email would be ridiculously illegal, with outrageous prison terms if the first 50 lines of the email didn’t scream SPAM in 36 pt times roman bold. yes you have the right to get your message to people, but you don’t have the right to fill the internet with penis enlargement scamolas and pictures of Barnyard Fun for our children to accidentally see.

id put pete rose in the hall of fame, and id put ticketmaster out of business, if not jail.

every child would be issued an electric guitar.

and i fucking swear to you, if any of you even say a word im going to remind you that on may first two thousand and three when the washington post and abc news asked 1,105 americans if they thought the country was going in the right direction, the majority of them said yes.

im expecting you to give me that sort of support.

especially when the assassination attempts begin once i start taxing the rich.

and i will tear down the lights in wrigley, and i will melt them down

and make public urinals from all of them.

alecia is now legal

fuck the bounce pass, fuck the set shot, fuck the underhand free throw, fuck greg ostertag and jeff hornasek, and fuck utah for keeping the name the Jazz after they got up and moved out of new orleans for salt lake.

the utah jazz is the example for mediocraty in sports, and even though jerry sloan was a chicago bull when i grew up there and i went to his basketball camp, and he took a picture with me, and autographed it, fuck jerry sloan for not doing what it took to adjust to magic’s showtime lakers, mj’s triangle offense, the twin towers in san antone, or the new look lakers with kobe and that other guy.

bloggers all over slc should be raising their fists in unison while drinking coca cola and denouncing the stockton and malone era with a hearty fuck you.

my (legitamate) children will never pretend to be the mailman rolling off a high screen in the driveway of our home awaiting a pass as they head for the hoop, and i will be glad. what they will do is walk backwards from the charity stripe in measured steps so that they can attempt a slam like mj.

what they will do is practice their baseline 360s like kobe.

what they will do is pretend to win back to back titles like the admiral Dream.

the only time they will even mention stockton or malone is while taunting their younger siblings who theyve just defeated, mercilessly.

i dont have anything against the good people of utah, dont get me wrong.

some of my best friends are losers.

i do have a problem with owners who see their future hall of famers aging and do very little to help them get the ring that they sorta deserve.

how is it that the dallas mavericks were able to build the great young team that they have in only a matter of years? dumb luck? i dont think so.

couldnt the jazz have gotten some of the clippers that donald sterling was so happy to unload year after year? how come michael wasnt given the royal treatment to join the jazz the way he joined the wizards? why is elton brand playing at staples instead of the delta center?

when you have two superstars who have done nothing but bring class (except for the lame AIDS ignorance that malone spewed when magic announced that he had HIV) and style and grace and muscle to your hapless little team for nearly 20 years, there comes a time when you should feel like you owe them a little loyalty in return via free agents or trades, cuz lord knows the jazz hasnt been able to draft smart in a long time.

here’s their first round picks over the last two decades: 2002 — Ryan Humphrey, Notre Dame; 2001 — Raul Lopez, Real Madrid (Spain); 2000 — DeShawn Stevenson, Washington Union HS (CA); 1999 — Quincy Lewis, Minnesota, Andrei Kirilenko, CSKA (Russia), Scott Padgett, Kentucky; 1998 — Nazr Mohammed, Kentucky; 1997 — Jacque Vaughn, Kansas; 1996 — Martin Muursepp, Kalev Talinn (Estonia); 1995 — Greg Ostertag, Kansas; 1994 — None; 1993 — Luther Wright, Seton Hall; 1992 — None 1991 — Eric Murdock, Providence; 1990 — None; 1989 — Blue Edwards, East Carolina; 1988 — Eric Leckner, Wyoming; 1987 — Jose Ortiz, Oregon State; 1986 — Dell Curry, Virginia Tech; 1985 — Karl Malone, Louisiana Tech; 1984 — John Stockton, Gonzaga.

nice job losing, jazz, now that you have lost your anchors you wont have the misery of losing in the playoffs year after year after year, because you wont make it there any more.

beta blog + hot mass girls + wKen show

anyone who keeps score at a ball game is definitely okay with me.

he also plays really good music in his car. last night we heard curtis mayfield’s greatest hits. it was super great. last time it was the new johnny cash record.

howard’s also got some secret plans he’s working on that im terribly jealous of.

thanks to howard’s generosity i got to formally meet steve smith from smythe’s world, got to hang out with my buddy matt and my pal basart (who i think has a web site, but im not sure if it’s open to the public).

we talked about a wide variety of important topics such as taxing Indian gambling, who the Dems need to nominate to beat Bush again next time, and the importance of laws that actually reflect the real beliefs of the taxpayers and not the made up morals of politicians who say certain things and pass certain laws not because they believe them but because they think they need to say those things to get re-elected.

i had a super dodger dog, nachos, and a diet coke.

we got to witness odalis perez pitch a complete game shut out.

i will forget the fact that dodger manager jim tracy took odalis out of the game with two outs in the ninth.

welch stood up and said, “hey, tracy, boooo.”

basart drank a budweiser from a plastic bottle.

i had a great time.

afterwards we all drank at the rustic where we met up with the beautiful emannuelle, the lovely charlie hornberger, the always energetic oswald q. tyler, and the leader of the free world mr. steve coulter who told me some juicy tsar secrets that made me extremely happy.

when i got home a college girl caught me on the instant messenger and typed some really nice dirty stuff and showed me some nudes.

the only thing that would have made it a perfect evening was if the cubs had won.

maybe next year.

howard owens + steve smith + nothing special web hosting