steph and lola are hot, and i had no business drinking with them at the mondrian poolside last night. i am old. i worry far too much and i should just kick back and enjoy this amazing life the good lord has blessed me with.

murphys law my xbi phone was ringing off the hook and i accidentally left my camera at home in my haste to get to the airport on time.

half way there i got a phone call from steph (left) telling me she got a quicker flight with no layover and had already made it into LA and had checked into the posh sunset strip hotel and if i wouldnt mind bringing over a bottle of something fabulous on the way over to the hotel.

steph is taller than you think. she wore a little something or nother with a plunging neckline that was hard not to peek at. we got to drink for about ten seconds when my cell started blowing up. embarrassingly i walked her over to the skybar with its spectacular views of west hollywood and beverly hills.

all i wanted was a few minutes of alone time before stephs caped crusader lola was scheduled to arrive, but no, everything i had to do on the phone never let up.

there was a disturbance, apparently, at the heron house. i had asked nicely for the evening off. but the fella who was covering for me fell ill. ill my eye, once he found out what his assignment was he chickened out.

so it was my responsibility, of course, to find a new replacement. everyone i talked to was thrilled to hear from me. but when they found out who what and where, suddenly they were busy.

steph sat there patiently sipping her bacardi o and asking if it was ok to touch my head.

of course dear.

i pounded my long island iced tea which comes in a big ceramic apple. let me stress the word big. and at fifteen bucks it better be big.

finally this dude said he would do it. so i put my phone down and reintroduced myself to step from southbeach and she told me about her flight on song airlines, an outfit i’d never heard of, but she told me that they are like the delta version of southwest airlines but with directv.

she watched 13 going on 30, which i imagine to be a very good airplane movie for a cute girl.

and then the phone rang.

the dude discovered that he had something to do. he asked if i could make a few more calls because he was scared shitless i mean suddenly busy.

so i called a few more dudes on the list. none of whom wanted to even discuss the fact that i only call them for the suicide missions.

two guys happened to be in greece for the olympics, as crime, it seems, likes the summer games too.

a few minutes after i closed him again on the lie that if he did a good job he might get a full time gig with the xbi, lola (above) arrived.

prettiest girl i’ll ever meet, lola promised, and she wasnt too far off.

and there they were steph and lola, on the west coast. all smiles and white teeth and tan bods and someone had a pink prada purse and someone had met a surfer boy already and someone got a phone call and someone had to go home early.

and as i did i thanked my lucky stars for not only having so many cool readers but being able to meet some of them

on such a summers day.

steph does south beach + zulieka + flagrant

bitch

the one i have with danielle is bizarre and bizarre.

yesterday we play-fought for a good hour over whether her dress was midnight blue or black.

every guy who we asked said it was blue.

the women looked closely and said it was blue, but after danielle asked them to look again they said, “oh yeah thats black.”

of course it was midnight blue (pictured).

the philosophy that men cant see colors properly is a danielle original.

shes full of shit like that.

she also takes insights personally.

when i described her dress i said, oh it looks like a japanese stewardess outfit from the 50s.

to which she crossed her arms and pouted and said, “dont make any more comments about my clothes ever again, you wrinkley shirt and jeans slob.”

i was all, dude, i loooove asian girls. in my heaven all there is are asian girls cooking me shrimp fried rice and binding my little girls feet.

i kid.

but i was all, babydoll, asian chicks + stewardesses is like male fantasy #1, only trumped by the teenage runaway cheerleader bus broken down in front of an abandoned hot tub factory.

still she took the description personally and negatively and gave me the silent treatment.

for a good thirty seconds.

today she didnt like the fact that i told her she looked a little haggared after she told me that she was hungover from spending all night at the new hollywood nightclub called El Centro where she had a run in with some of the beautiful people of LA who are neither beautiful or people: they are prefab androids devoid of personality or charm.

i was all, well you do look a little beat. to which she huffed and made me wait for her get her morning bagel with tomato slice and lofat cream cheese.

such punishment ive never encountered before.

i was forced to stare at her sweet ass for a good two minutes.

danielle keeping it real + jarvis + sean bonner

i dont need it rubbed in. and when youre old you do things, i dont know, logically?

so the hotties are coming out here and they think LA is just going to spread its legs for them. they think they can just bop out of the plane and the golden gate bridge is going to float down here from frisco and mickey mouse is going to toss rose petals at their feet

and brad pitt is going to get their bags at baggage claim

and the palm trees will part

and eight different colored convertibles will be waiting at the curb for them to choose from and then step into.

but LA isnt like that, oddly.

and LAX at night is a scary bad place that eats up tourists and shits them onto century blvd.

all i want is a plan from these girls. are they crashing at my pad or at “some dude’s”? and i want that plan before i rush home and clean my house, before i pick up miss montreal’s jaguar, before i drive to the other side of town in the middle of the night.

is that too much to ask?

apparently it is.

apparently im not the freewheeling bob dylan that they are.

apparently im oh-so-flagrant disregard who gets upset at pretty much everyone in her universe, and now i see why. and hopefully now everyone sees why i pretty much stay at my secret beachside getaway and hide in my closet and write and write and write and write.

because the outside world is on drugs and needs to just do their own thing.

ive said it over and over to myself: dont meet people who read your blog.

ive tried to fight that rule. ive tried to set up world tours that would keep me from my closet and allow me to shake hands with the planet.

god almighty am i glad that didnt happen.

and young girls are even worse. prettier they are crazier they are.

totally reminds me of shit my sister would have done back in the day.

no worries tony they tell me. just go with the flow they say.

heres the flow in south central LA, where, by the way, LAX resides: get off the plane, get your shit and speed away as fast as you possibly can to a pre-arranged locale THEN go with the LA flow.

i lived in south central so i can tell you first hand: theres a reason why nobody from N.W.A lives in the “hood” anymore. many reasons, as a matter of fact. 187 reasons.

all i wanted was a plan Before these well-intentioned hotties got on their crosscountry flights. all i wanted to know was where they were staying tonight. how they were going to get there. what they needed from me. what they expected. what they were doing tomorrow.

but no. i got nothing. i got, call you when we arrive. gotta pack. bye!

and whats up with packing minutes before the flight?

god im old.

here’s what i predict. i will meet the early one early. we will drink at a bar somewhere. the other will arrive hours and hours later. they will yell and scream and giggle and talk about how much they missed each other over the last 3-4 months that they havent seen each other.

some other dude sniffing around who is just as clueless will be all you girls can stay at my place. i will say GOOD! and they will be all, but no, we want to hang with you tony. there will be much debate. it will be 1:30am. we will be at LAX. my parking fee will be $1302894721034987. at 1:45a i will give in and the chicks and the weasly dude will decide to go to my place. they will stay up all night drinking my booze and popping my pills as i laugh at them, not getting a wink of sleep, which i dont need anyway cuz in real life im fucking insane.

they will wake up in their own barf come morning.

and the dude will be telling me that he cant believe he’s been partying with The tony pierce all night

i’ll ride the bus to work, arrive 10 minutes late and get written up and questioned about the liquor that appears to be on my breath

and i will want to say that most people wouldnta left two hot girls with their housekeys and hangovers on a friday, that most people woulda just called in sick, but instead i will say its the cough medicine i drank, so back off before they catch what i think i have.

but all i have is idiocy

disguised as openmindedness

wrapped in retardness.

because the only thing worse than not having a plan, is allowing drunk young girls to decide the plan in the wee hours. and fuck if im cleaning my fucking house.

xtracyx + anti + the deputy + three bed two bath

the ghost of bukowski continues to haunt my hollywood flop house. two things are missing, however: his alcoholism, and his smooth confidence.

i am nervous.

not because of the obvious. im cool about that. im just afraid i cant live up to the hype.

it’s one thing to write a blog that people like, but to BE that person or anything like that person in real life is daunting. especially if, as is the case here, i am much more mild mannered in person than i am on paper.

plus tomorrow morn i have to go to work.

one babe is showing up at 9pm, the other will arrive at midnight.

blogstar tony would take the hottie to the nudes nudes nudes next to the airport and play footsies with her as motley crue plays and we sip $6 miller lites while waiting for her pallie to arrive.

reallife dumbass tony will probably take her to fatburger on lincoln and sip diet coke and stutter a lot.

it’s a wonder i dont have to pay for sex.

bukowski used to be able to handle this much easier, i have read.

the girls who would read his stuff would come to LA, knock on his door, they would drink all night and he would show up to work hungover and sloppy – or not show up at all.

im far too responsible. sadly. stupidly. horribly!

the other bad news is my maid called me this morning telling me that her son was in the ER last night and she wouldnt be able to clean my house today. tragic, since my place is a pig sty.

hopefully they will consider it charming. or rustic.

my towels are sorta cruddy. i have no milk. because im bald i have no shampoo or conditioner, though i think i have some samples from the hotel suite i was last in.

i have clean sheets but theyre flannel sheets. what sort of host lays down flannel sheets in the august in LA?

these are the dilemas that will haunt my day.

in better news, danielle, looking phenominal in her japanese stewardess pink polka dot dress bought me my morning apple juice.

bunnie was in la + bunny mc is in toronto with raymi + sk smith is still watching alias

an entire post from someone else’s blog, but kate sullivan wrote about the paul loduca trade in a way that i could never.

and shes a girl.

sometimes women understand sports much better than you give them credit for. and they understand it in a different way that jimmy the greek never could.

the only thing hotter than a chick who writes for Spin, is a chick who cries over a baseball trade and then writes about it on her blog.

Kate Sullivan

Saturday July 31

I can’t handle it. I can’t handle it. We had such a good thing going. We had “It”–the thing that turns mere work into an act of love; that makes success probable, and failure bearable–we had style, we had glamour and fun; we had honesty; we had chemistry.

Now, I just don’t know what. The Dodgers’ bosses took a gorgeous, weird, number-one team, a team of friends who really knew and respected each other, a team anchored by a brilliant catcher, who also happened to be an ace hitter, and they decided the team would be better off losing its single most important player. Its core. Sure, Gagne’s a rock star, but he stands on LoDuca’s shoulders. And LoDuca isn’t only brilliant; he loves Los Angeles.

I don’t know shit about baseball whatsoever; I didn’t even know that they traded players in the middle of the season. What the fuck is up with that? That’s like dumping your girlfriend in the middle of summer or right before Christmas: It’s out-of-sync with the rhythms of nature. You dump your loser jerk boyfriend or girlfriend between New Year’s and June.

And if your boyfriend or girlfriend is a totally kickass genius team-player who helps you to be more happy and fun and successful, you don’t dump them. You marry them. And you ride out the ups and downs of the season together.

I sound like a female Tony Pierce; it’s so weird. I don’t mean to.

This is from the Dodgers’ official corporate website, so I can only imagine how outraged everyone must actually be:

“The trade rocked the clubhouse, where the Dodgers have credited their close-knit chemistry as one factor in their success.

‘There’s a lot of sad faces in here,’ said veteran Jose Lima. ‘I don’t want to create a war, but breaking up a first-place team, wow, that’s something. We accomplished this together. We overcame adversity, people not believing in us. I don’t make the decisions.’

Shawn Green agreed.

‘Right now, it’s hard to fathom,’ he said.”

I didn’t used to like LoDuca because I thought he was just a cocky dope. But I came to understand that he’s salt of the earth: He’s the guy you want as your older brother; and even if he were your little brother, he’d live like your older brother. He’s Johnny on the spot, with a good heart.

“Paul Lo Duca cried and talked openly about the pain of leaving the only organization he has ever known. ‘I always dreamed about being a Dodger for my whole life, having a 20-year career, but I guess it didn’t happen. It’s tough, so many friends I’ve made along the way. The fans in L.A., they treated me so well. It’s tough.'”

I predict after they fire Jim Tracy, Paul LoDuca will be back.

That’s who they really should have traded. Traded him for a funny monkey with a tiny organ that plays “She Bangs.”

kate’s rock blog + science blog + emmanuelle meets tom cruise

thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you

but the new york native was incredibly prolific, being published in a variety of places including the new york times.

her most famous work was a poem she entitled “the new colossus” that was chosen to be enscribed on the statue of liberty.

“The New Colossus”

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

with conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

a mighty woman with a torch

whose flame is imprisoned lightning,

and her name Mother of Exiles.

From her beacon-hand glows

world-wide welcome;

her mild eyes command the air-bridged harbor

that twin cities frame.

“Keep ancient lands your storied pomp!”

cries she with silent lips.

“Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

the most famous lines about the huddled masses was perfect coming from a self-proclaimed “Jewish poet” who was focused on the causes of the oppressed in america.

Born on July 22, 1849, Lazarus was the fourth of Esther (Nathan) and Moses Lazarus’s seven children. She grew up in New York and Newport, Rhode Island, and was educated by private tutors with whom she studied mythology, music, American poetry, European literature, German, French, and Italian.

Her father, who was a successful sugar merchant, supported her writing financially as well as emotionally.

In 1866, when Emma was only seventeen, Moses had Poems and Translations: Written Between the Ages of Fourteen and Sixteen printed “for private circulation.” Daughter Emma dedicated the volume “To My Father.” – Jewish Virtual Library

this public service post is brought to you by the busblog as we celebrate the re-opening of the Statue of Liberty which was closed after 9/11.

like this

spelled backwards

1. WHAT COLOR ARE YOUR BEDROOM WALLS? mustard

2. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? the dice man by luke rheinhold – it’s twisted and dirty. A-

3. WHAT’S ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? whats that.

4. FAVORITE BOARD GAME? scrabble with my truest.

5. FAVORITE MAGAZINE? maxim

6. FAVORITE SMELL? tie: pot at concerts, incense in church

7. FAVORITE COLOR? midnight blue

8. LEAST FAVORITE COLOR? teal

9. HOW MANY RINGS BEFORE YOUR ANSWERING MACHINE PICKS UP? three.

10. MOST IMPORTANT MATERIAL THING IN MY LIFE? my home computer.

11. FAVORITE FLAVOR OF ICE CREAM? rocky road.

12. DO YOU BREAK THE SPEED LIMIT DAILY? i dont drive. but when i walk, it’s usually very quickly.

13. DO YOU HAVE A STUFFED ANIMAL IN YOUR ROOM SOMEWHERE? yes. ashley gave me a monkey wearing a tshirt that says wanna monkey around?

14. STORMS – COOL OR SCARY? always cool unless im driving.

15. FAVORITE DRINK? bailey’s on ice. double.

16. WHEN IS YOUR BIRTHDAY? october 22. some one asked me if i was a libra the other day. im on the scorpio libra cusp. libra is the fingertip, scorpio is the nail.

17. FAVORITE VEGETABLES? peas.

18. IF YOU COULD HAVE ANY JOB, WHAT WOULD IT BE? blogger.

19. IF YOU COULD HAVE ANY COLOR HAIR, WHAT WOULD IT BE? red.

20. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN LOVE? daily.

21. TOP THREE FAVORITE MOVIES (IN ORDER)? blues brothers, ferris bueller, fast times

22. DO YOU TYPE WITH YOUR FINGERS ON THE RIGHT KEYS? i type as they taught us in typing class. both hands, head up, feet on the floor. quickly.

23. WHAT’S UNDER YOUR BED? suitcase, baseball cards, old shoes, magazines, newspapers, diaries, socks, and lots and lots of dust.

24. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE NUMBER? 666

25. FAVORITE SPORT TO WATCH ON TV & IN PERSON? baseball, hockey

26. WHAT IS YOUR SINGLE BIGGEST FEAR? that anyone considering having sex with me would actually believe any of this.

27. FAVORITE CD OF ALL TIME & RIGHT NOW? All time?!? i’m weird. if i really love something i wont listen to it so that i wont get sick of it. i guess im doing that with the replacements tim. right now my favorite cd is the Lorretta Lynn record that came out this year.

28. FAVORITE TV SHOW OF ALL TIME & RIGHT NOW? all-time: (tie) The Simpsons, The Sopranos

right now: (tie) Big Brother, Pardon the Interruption, The Casino, South Park

29. HAMBURGERS OR HOT DOGS? dogs

30. THE COOLEST PLACES YOU’VE EVER BEEN? wrigley field, matt & emmanuelle’s wedding in france, isla vista 87-92

31. WHAT WALLPAPER AND/OR SCREENSAVER IS ON YOUR COMPUTER RIGHT NOW? the wallpaper is a colored drawing of catwoman from the 50s. screensavers are for girls.

32. DOES MCDONALD’S SKIMP ON YOUR FRIES & DO YOU CARE? my first job was mcdonalds. you actually get way more than youre supposed to. mcdonalds fries are the best, but if they were smart they would make the McFatFry and get people to argue about whether they like the new fries better than the old ones, cuz frankly, the mcdonalds fries are losing their rep.

33. FAVORITE CHAIN RESTAURANT(s)? mcdonalds

34. IF YOU HAVE A BOY (OR HAVE ANOTHER BOY) WHAT WOULD YOU NAME HIM? angus

35. IF YOU COULD LEARN TO PLAY ONE INSTRUMENT OVERNIGHT, WHAT WOULD IT BE? banjo.

36. WHERE DID YOU GET THIS FROM? mr. blonde’s garage

mouthy + fawksy + moxie