miss montreal returned my text page with a simple one.

as you know one means yes and two means no.

and today, i found out just an hour ago, luckily

wasnt

opposite day.

sometimes just agreeing to pick me up take me to kfc and bring me home is enough for me to rip a girls clothes off before the magically salty grease on the popcorn chicken has a chance to finish hardening.

just the night before i thought id never see those tan eyes again

and there they were

oh, canada.

and let me tell you another thing about this one

her friends chip in to get each other semi expensive presents.

instead of everyone giving little bullshit birthday gifts

or no gifts at all

her friends are classylike

on account of being canadian, probably.

they all chip in twentyfive bucks

all twenty of em

and they each get good shit.

or in this case get rid of it.

except for a tiny landing strip.

using

“lasers”

i was all how did you know i loved the eighties

and when i was done her toes were curled

just like bunny said theyd be

offline adventures + stinson + chelle

Friday, March 15, 2002

i was trying to prove God to this buddist at the baja fresh and i saw my old boss signalling me from the salsa station.

my old fbi boss.

i excused myself and met him in the men’s room.

“long time, agent.”

“not that long, really, seems like yesterday.” i said.

“hows the xbi treating you?”

“the what?”

“ok, well, whatever. tony we want you back.”

“im touched.”

“we miss you and we need you.”

“you cant afford me.”

“what, are you suddenly materialist? has the xbi spoiled you?”

“it’s not money that i want.”

“figured as much, what do you want then?”

my old boss wasnt much of a negotiator, especially with me. all he would ever say is “no.”

“i want my old flying car back and i want to be a superagent, and i want my old territory back.”

“sorry kid, no can do. santa monica is taken.”

“yeah, i know, by your son-in-law. is he still in the hospital?”

“hal is back, he’s fine, thank you.”

“well, those are my terms, my fish tacos are getting cold.”

someone knocked on the door, my boss yelled, “one sec, buddy.” then he said, “we could get you your car.”

“and i want to pick my partner,” i added.

“next you’ll be telling me that you want to pick your boss.”

“get me santa monica back, and let me pick my partner and i’ll be happy with you as my boss.”

“boy, that’s a change.”

my boss always liked to get close to me and whisper in my ear. that never sat well with me, but i understood his motives.

he said, “i’ll see what i can do, agent. but your partner has to be someone from the bureau. none of those xbi hoodlums.”

i washed my hands with hot water and soap. my boss looked at his male pattern baldness and primped. i dried off with the papertowels and threw all but one in the trash and used the remaining towel to protect my soon-to-be fishy fingers and opened the door.

like a gentleman i allowed my boss to exit first.

he said thank you and as he passed, i attached a bug to the collar of his suit coat.

i like steph’s buzznet pics + and tiffany’s + and teera‘s

but is he on par with prince and george harrison? fuck the beatles, but i had no problem with harrison. mostly cuz he made up for it with the wilburys and all those terry gilliam movies.

fuck the rock n roll hall of fame.

fuck pretty much everything. howard stern was right this morning. rolling stone wants to put him on their cover and write about his problems with the fcc and at first he was going to do it, but then he realized that this wasnt His problem, it’s Everyones problem. for 20 years hes been doing his show and the public has been eating it up.

nothing that he does is obscene. it’s about sex a lot of the times, but that doesnt instantly make it obscene.

the radio waves are the public’s airwaves. how public is it when one company owns 80% of it? how public is it when a few republicans are dictating what can be broadcast? how public is it when the number one broadcaster is suddenly deemed obscene the same month he comes out against the president of the united states?

i know a lot of my elected officials read this.

and some officials, like senator clinton read this too.

if you fools dont start fighting the repubs on this issue and on the issue of free speech and of the issue of censorship and of the issue of assholes bulldozing their quote unquote morals all over my shit im going to not only vote them out but vote you out too.

where is the main democratic voice standing up and saying, oh no you didn’t!

do i have to elect the audience of the jerry springer show to run my senate?

do i have to move to canada?

do i have to open up a coffee shop in amsterdamn called expats?

do i really have to get an internet radio show called devil radio where i get one of those voice boxes that alters sound so i sound like the Great Deceiver and all i say is stuff like, “this is devil radio, give me your soul!” and play metallica, maiden, zeppelin, and britney?

you know ive never owned a pair of air jordans?

you know how clean my house is?

you know how sleepy i am?

prince deserves better than to be inducted alongside bob seger, thats all im saying.

its cuz hes black that hes being dissed like this, isnt it?

maybe its cuz hes just so damn funky.

my truest and i heard sinead do nothing compares 2 u in the launderia and she almost started crying cuz its so good, still.

and me, i just loved that part where she goes, i went to the doctor you know what he told me you know what he told me

he said girl u better have fun no matter what u do

but hes a fool.

free stern + howard stern dot com + buzzmachine

return from vacation again.

woke up cold. woke up beat. fucking dreams which have left me alone for years and years and years came back with a vengeance this last week.

unlike most people im not a fan of dreams. those little lies that catch us when we’re at our most vulnerable. and unlike most people i usually have incredibly sound, refreshing sleep. which is why i dont need much of it mostly.

got on the train. hated everyone. got in the elevator, hated the old man who stuck his big paw in the way of the door as my car was about to lift up. hated the lady with the baby. hated the kids.

even though it was a pleasure to keep the company of ms bunny mcintosh, my idea of a vacation is to sit on my couch and watch tv and sleep and fart and eat and get tired of doing nothing. our lil redhead from georgia was an excellent guest but on saturday when she had left i was finally able to relax.

yesterday i still wasnt completely at ease, however, because half the girls i date were incredibly jealous of the fact that i paid so much attention to one girl and not them and all but one of them didnt even want to talk with me.

this did wonders to my stress levels which rarely go much higher than barely there.

unless im at work where they’re always at max levels.

why am i living the life that im living, america?

what great sin am i paying for?

part of me thinks that if i had just stayed in hangoverpark, ill i would have a house a mortgage a mini van, some kids, some wives, some dogs, and something in common with the rest of my high school graduating class.

instead i dont even know whats going on.

i thought about what new job i could have while i sat at the busstop. i remembered how they used to have a guy standing at the stop at wilshire and western, he had a walkie talkie. he would tell the busses to get the fuck over there. kept everything running smoothly. during the bus strike they got rid of that guy. i think i would like that job.

i keep thinking i want to be a high school teacher.

fuck that though.

now im thinking i should just be a benefactee.

someone that people can leave their fortunes to when they kick off and want to piss off their kids.

that ones sitting better with me.

leah + bloopy + it’s my life

theres some girls who want to be my girlfriend but they dont really. not my girlfriend. my girlfriend knows im a knucklehead. my girlfriend knows that usually once or twice a year a girl from the internet wants to meet me and actually does. my girlfriend knows that i like my many mansions. my girlfriend knows that there are rules for me and rules for the world and they dont always match up. my girlfriend knows that im addicted to writing. my girlfriend knows that im incredibly loyal. my girlfriend knows that sometimes i forget my shit cuz it takes me probably two hours to leave my house because i am close to having that disease where the person never wants to leave his house ever. my girlfriend knows that when i say i dont want to talk about something i really dont want to talk about it and i cant get suckered into talking about it. my girlfriend knows that i am the most honest person in the world and when i tell her that something went a certain way and shes probably better off then maybe she should just chill cuz shes probably better off.

83. virginiaanne

my girlfriend knows that occasionally i truly need some tonytime where i can just drink my rum alone crank the rancid and tap tap tap on my computer and hope that something decent comes over the transom. my girlfriend woulda given me a day to chill after having to be tourguide for a week during the month of pisces. my girlfriend knows i aint going anywhere. my girlfriend knows that being jealous only makes me less. cuz i know i aint doing anything to get jealous over. my girlfriend always comes over. my girlfriend looks good in a robe and lets me feel her up even when shes mad at me. my girlfriend says did you have a nice time with that redhead and i’ll say yeah and she’ll say well lets see if she taught you anything. and when i tell my girlfriend that theres stuff i dont even want to get into she will remember that i am xbi and theres probably something that im completely dead serious about so she should lay off.

my girlfriend knows that im not going to be single forever and one day i will have a girlfriend and if she thinks that she and i might be able to make it work she would look at all the little things and the big things and the mistakes and all the right things and she will remind herself that i just might be the most fucked up person in the world and all im trying to do is make it all work out and all im trying to do is make it so everyone is cool with everything which is probably why i tried to work shit out weeks ago.

my girlfriend knows how to bowl.

sk smith feeling the pisces + 835 + steph + talk sick

im going to move there. karisa taught me how to truly be independent, so now very few things own me. the cubs do of course. the blog. yes. soft drinks. but thats about it. maybe the web. maybe. probably.

but sunsets and college girls holding surfboards where the weather is eternally 72 degrees and the sound of skateboards clacking over the uneven asphalt cracked from burnt furniture has a place in my heart that calls to me like a siren in a dream.

the greatest burrito place in town is no longer there and the best burrito place in town is now a corporate place and i sat there eating the third worst burrito in town next to the young redheaded girl and i realized that i know what my destiny is, its to bring back to isla vista whats isla vistas: the finest burrito in town.

many kegs ago there was a burrito place next to the dominos pizza called tacos acapulco. they had about 5 little mexican guys working there who would dance to the music and smile and serve you your burrito. they had beers in bottles but it wasnt really a drinking place. it was an eating place and the burritos were seriously good but they were also made better by the smiles and the warmth and the partying and the musica.

kids from all over ate there for dinner and for that time after midnight when you need a spicy taco for as to combat the drinking youve done and are about to do. those guys were still dancing. laughing at the girls trying to order in spanish.

tacos acapulco got sued by the bigger mexican chain called acapulco and changed their name to tia albertos. then the dancing happy little mexican guys got into a wage war with alberto and said hasta and got a place across the street. and went in competition with their former boss.

the dumb sorority girls didnt see what was happening and instead of getting all their customers to walk across the street to the place made by the people who actually made the food and gave it the atmosphere only Half the kids defected and the other half stuck with their old munching grounds.

this caused both establishments to go broke.

now the kids settle for the same old same old and i know i could change all that in the snap of a finger.

i think i will name it senior vista’s.

and it will have a beer and wine bar. and partying mexicans. and lines out the door till 3am. and i will have buckets of money flowing, and profit earnings for the workers. health insurance tip jars. dry tshirt contests. and a plasma screen tv for the big games.

pretty simple really.

the secret is in the free chips and spicy salsa.

and the break dancing of course.

and if i was really smart id get a guy to push a taco cart through iv at noon and sell them on campus during the lunchtime rush like it aint no thing. cuz it aint.

everyone and i know i exaggerate in here and lie and cheat and steal but everyone in isla vista had either a surfboard in their hand or was riding a skateboard or was pumping at a keg or holding out a cup or running home to make love.

kitty bukkake + leah + amy

for an evening of league bowling. she nibbled at my shrimp fried rice and watched us beat the kids from E! by the slimmest of margins: 2 pins.

owning up to their side of the bargain, the losers took us to their studio and we took pictures at the news desk and pretended to announce that bad music had been deemed illegal by the fcc meaning that most radio stations would have to start broadcasting in spanish so as to not offend rich white people. remembering that most of us were rich white people we went back to drinking and skipping rocks across the la brea tar pits.

one guy stripped down and wanted to go skinnydipping but baja fresh seemed more appealing.

today the plans are to go to santa barbara. the land that doc searls built. the place of my birth. its warm here in southern california. eighties or so. its sunny. its perfect. the radio plays everything perfect but the cd doesnt like burned discs and i thought we had gotten beyond that. do you know i love you? i do. i talked to karisa and chris and we went to miss montreals place of buisness yesterday and i swear to you three of the ladies there said, “bunny mcintosh!?”

and she said yes. and miss montreal said, and this is tony pierce. and the ladies said, bunny what brings you here? and you could see how excited they were and they should be. and the one thing i like about this girl is that she truly is a nice girl and being so little she gets drunk easily, matching me shot for shot at the alley and bottle for bottle at the tarpits and winebox for winebox on the cab home and at 1:30a i was happy that it was she who was passed out and not me for then i got to change my nba fantasy players around cuz im a dork.

and tonight we will eat the best burritos in californuh. those that are made in isla vista. where my children will be sired and my ashes will be spread.

home of my dreams.

land that i love.

we will drink on the cliffs of dp and toast to all of you.

and if theres a couch

we’ll burn that fucker to the gods

in your name.

amen.

mc brown + required reading + vanmega

pretty girl woke up at noon. she glid across the hardwood in her frilly lil nightie. or is it a slip. or is it a dress. i feel bad that shes barefoot cuz my floors are rarely clean. kissed the top of my head and balleted across the great room out the front door and over the dirt hill that used to be my front lawn cartwheeling down the arched driveway to the golden gates to the rolled up newspaper.

sat indian style on my polar bearskin rug bobbing her head to the new jay-z trying to find out when starsky n hutch was playing at the manns chinese and telling me how she thought the hova was lame-a until this record and you never know what a brothas gotta do to get the whitegirl crossover and i told her that i think theres something wrong with me that i really love the new britney single and before i know it shes on the computer going through all her favorite blogs.

last night we were headed to the airport cuz i was certain that she had only hitchhiked out here so she could tell her friends that she’d gotten it on with the busblog and boys can feel used sometimes too and she got it so she called up her friend her best friend who was all she doesnt want to tell everyone she got it on with the busblog she wants to tell everyone that she did it with lick. so we were cool again.

wish the same could be said for clipper girls cousin miss montreal rosalita and ashley. the daisy princess emailed me and asked if i thought she was hotter/cooler/prettier than her and i was all you/are/taken.

of course i will lose everything and have to start over and thats cool. ive had so many mid life crisises and followup renovations and new management signs put up that ive run out of rusty nails. shes smaller than you think. shorter. cuter. smarter. realer. i havent officially weighed her but id say just around perfect. shes clearly not in love with me but ashley wouldnt believe that since she thinks any hot chick who walks into my place immediately rips their own clothes off and demands to be anally intruded even though she knows i dont do that

on the first date.

i feel fat next to her. im getting fat. i never minded before. i still dont really mind. but then i saw the chart on the right and i remembered that jerry garcia didnt die of a heroin od he died cuz he spent his whole life eating junk food and his shit got all clogged up. i dont want my shit all clogged up.

back to the chart. looks like that war on drugs sure worked. no ones dying any more from dope. now i wonder if they will use just as much time money and effort on either keeping americans from smoking cigs or eating themselves into an early grave.

after they finish protecting us from howard stern and janet jacksons teet.

todays the first day of the waste of my life.

good thing bowling is on the agenda.

dong resin + midnight mailman + ocean chum

for me to look up into the heavens and bitch to the Lord Almighty about all the things that are going wrong in my life.

It says that if i do this then the Lord will look down on me and will fix all my problems.

It says that the way the planets are arranged right now I could have anything I wanted.

I have nothing to complain about and all I want is for my mom and my friends to be happy.

And for the Cubs to win the world series.

And for a safe to fall on our president’s empty head.

I’m a strong healthy black man with dsl directv rent control and a new showerhead. what more could a man want.

i have vacation in 5 hours. i get to spend the next three days with ms. bunny mcintosh.

my favorite band, tsar, is about to come out with the best record of 2004

what on earth would i have to bitch about to the creator of the universe?

world poverty? smog? gasoline prices?

shoot me in the head when i get seriously pissed off about gasoline prices. k?

me and bunny went food shopping the other day and she was all, wow, its expensive this food. i was all, this is the ghetto Foods 4 Less, only way it gets any cheaper is to steal it from your neighbors’s fridge.

im not a complainer.

my astrology says the squeaky wheel gets the grease. but this blogger knows that IF theres a plan for me, all the huffing and puffing wont blow down the door of despair. the only thing that makes dreams come true is the big fella. and if he doesnt want me to have the things that i think i want then i have to be cool with that, and i am cool with that. i will probably never have a house or kids that look like me or interns who come from the bank with wheelbarrows of cash for me, but i have enough. i dont need to ask for any more.

except for my mom to be happy.

and the cubs to win.

and this lamp.

welch + science blog + i heart kate sullivan