behind every great blog, theres a great host.

without todays birthday boy, mr oswald rosenkrantz the busblog wouldnt have ever existed.

and before the busblog there was and before that there was allstar install.

and before that there was simply darkness

and light.

somewhere in the middle of all that came os.

fluent in french, czech, and hillbilly the youngest rosenkrantz of the boise rosenkrants, os transferred into uc isla vista after being kicked out of princeton for delivering an oral presentation in a ridiculously high voice.

as he tells it it was a fine overview in the downfalls of reganomics and its impact on southern californian auto sales and its correlation to the nations ultimate economic downward spiral, but because everyone in the classroom was laughing so hard the professor couldnt hear.

and eventually he didnt want to hear at all and ordered our man out of the class and damned into new jersey.

a pool shark, a poker cheat, a left handed stepchild who looks good in any hat, vest, or lampshade.

hes the crosslegged doodad floating across your conscious always there always aware always near always dear.

i call him mr. os because he brings the southern gentleman out of you.

one whose bathtub gin tastes hauntingly different than yours.

and thats because its from a meticulously manicured still.

not a spare tub.

class, bitch. class.

os is the type of fella who could wear a pink beret at a rodeo and walk out of the rodeo with two pink berets.


and yet appearing perfectly sober.

until the cawwing begins.

happy birthday mr. os.

only one more year till 100.

that broken girl + leah + nothing special website hosting

i have a date on friday night.

dita i hope she knows it’s a date, cuz im treating it like a date.

she better think its a date, cuz i want to go on a date with her.

a real date.

flowers, wine, movies, ruffies.

it was all through friendster. i sent her a message. i said, hey let me take you on a date.

she said, i would really like that.

i said, great, how about this day, she said, maybe but this day would be better.

that day was friday, universally known as hot date night.

and since shes a hot girl and im a… guy, that means she must know that this is a hot date.

as in dont make any plans with anyone else that night night.

as in wear something sultry night, cuz i will.

as in be prepared to get liquored up real good cuz at some point i will be asking to investigate tan lines.

and unlike the santa monica police force, im a thorough examiner.

i hope this girl wants it to be a date.

dates are great.

if youre reading this hot babe: lets have a date.

be nice. i’ll be nice.

first person who isnt nice has to take off their top and kiss me.

a good kiss too.

none of that phoney baloney air kisses.

fuck i hope its a real date.

sublog + sk smith + vacant

people mistake me for ll cool j all the time.

tyler but only when i take off my shirt.

some hot chick is sending me letter after letter.

each letter has a square of a picture in it.

eventually i will have the entire photograph and because im a man im hoping its a wonderful nude.

although with my luck it will probably be a still life of a fern.

bus came on time, train came on time. woman had a little kid with her. he started crying and she pantomimed punching him in the face.

he cooed.

when i got on the second bus i saw a different woman holding a baby. next to her was a little girl who must have been 6 years old. she was carrying the babies diaper bag.

the baby was being held in the mommas arms in a sheet. looking freshly stolen.

no stroller. no clothes bag. no bottle.

the little girl seemed perfectly fine at 8 in the morning holding the diaper bag getting off the bus and crossing the street with her mom who couldnt hold her hand because she had both hands on the infant.

get used to it little girl, i wanted to tell her.

but i dont speak spanish.

saw her staring at me though through the scratchy plastic bus windown, etched at by gangmembers

she probably thought i was ll.

she probably thinks a lot of things.

i wondered if the real ll cool j had problems that i did.

new poem + dye winter + inluminent