dear people who are new to this blog,

nothing on here is true.

this letter is true, but thats it. and some of this is sketchy.

i dont work for an undercover group of crimefighting superheroes made up of castoffs from the cia, navy seals, and fbi who are often referred to as the xbi.

i dont have a flying car, im totally not 109 years old, i dont ride the bus to work.

i ride the bus And the subway.

all the hot chicks on my page and in my photo essays: none of them know me.

for example, karisa is not coming over to do laundry with me.

tsar did not go to college with me.

ken layne doesnt even know my name.

the popularity of this site isnt even true. ive doctored the numbers, cooked the books, phinagled with the hoo ha.

in reality im a very shy volunteer at a large private hospital where i cuddle shivvering aids babies, push people around in their wheel chairs, and help valet park certain doctors’ bmws.

at night i watch a lot of tv.

karisa is a neurosurgeon who befriended me.

a pityfriend.

i know the truth.

little does she know that my grandmother left me a fortune, but how would she know anything about me, normally im too shy to say much more than hello, how on earth could i possibly tell her that i own the place?

with all the free time that i have i read russian novelists, bukowski poems, and entertainment weekly, and i try to incorporate that style into this blog.

what i want to show on here is that los angeles really is an interesting place to live and its a lot different than what hollywood would have you believe that it is.

please dont get distracted by my political writings or photo essays. sometimes i get bored and the easiest thing to do is watch baseball and figure out different ways to say f the president. it’s easier than it looks.

also dont get fooled by my piss poor grammar and spelling, i can spell. and i can grammar.

the question is, can i write.

thats the thing that i ask myself every day.

people tell me i can, but half those people have a tube jammed up their arm and a bedpan between their legs. theyd say anything as long as id listen to their terrible stories.

so anyway, i really have to do laundry right now, so click around, go to the archives, check out what the web has to say about the busblog and dont forget to look at a photo essay or two.

its the specialty of the house.

your pal,


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