day 21 manhattan

you like it here cuz the weathers perfect. you feel safe here cuz of all the witnesses. you eat here cuz its delicious an who doesnt love hot nuts?

i had a street hot dog before my drinks with the publisher. then i had a slice at Joe’s after i was pleasantly buzzed and had deposited my check. i get paid once a month. a fat check. a check that seems like it should be fatter but its actually just right im just getting greedy. and foolish.

i should never stay in a hotel over $100. i should never spend more than $50 on rounds of drinks. i should quit giving the homeless everything i have, but i feel better for some reason giving people my money than giving it to myself. lord only knows why.

because i dont know any better im typing you from a starbucks near bleeker street. after the pizza i walked around like a tourist and took pictures of everything in the dark. i found the starbucks because i knew i could plug in and later take a dump. so they got me to pay for a bottled water and a $2 slice of brownie with espresso chips. i hate all things coffee flavored but this wasnt bad.

at first i was reading my email and doing LAist stuff and listening to this 18 yr old girl with a HEAVY ny accent talk to her handsome bf. he was bored out of his mind but she was so damn cute that both of us tolerated it. then her mom called and she stepped out side and talked to her while sitting next to him on the other side of the glass revealing her lowerback tattoo.

now two married couples are talking about married couple things. am i crazy to Never want to talk about married couple things? once upon a time i was all about that. now im so not about that. i want to talk about love slaves and box seats and low end restuarants and sexual positions. maybe i will be persuaded to talk about the pysics of a curveball or novels but potty training and child pyschyiatrists in frisco and blackberrys? no thanks tom hanks.

it just turned midnight and im pooped from drinking and walking and carrying my laptop around my back. if i lived here id be in the best shape cuz you walk everywhere and id be carrying this laptop everywhere. my man in chicago says that he might hook me up with a smaller laptop one day and i totally could use that. but this workout is fine. in fact its better than fine.

say what you want about soho but it was pretty sweet-o. these two superhot japanese girls apologized to me and jake for interrupting us and asked us where a good italian restaurant was. thats pretty close to asking magic johnson where the nearby sports arena is. after he gave them two options including the names of the chefs who make them good, i said, dude if you werent married i would have said, “italian? just your luck ladies WE were about to go have some pasta ourselves. please, be our guests.” the babes were that hot.

basically everyone here is that hot. i could be hallucinating but i havent seen an ugly girl in two days. pretty amazing. tomorrow night the bears play. i want to cover them for LAist since we dont have a football team. the kids would freak out and protest like mad but sometimes you have to rattle the cage.

i have no idea how to get back to brooklyn. i have no idea where i am. i have no idea what im doing tomorrow other than going to AOL/Time Warner and hanging out with the Fat Man, but i do know that i’ll be drinking.

my birthday is in three weeks.

theres really no explaining half the shit that happens.

good shit or bad. you can try. i guess thats what writers do. they try to explain shit. but it doesnt stop the shit from happening.

you can be a trained salesman. you can be a trained cop. you can be a trained fireman but tick tock it dont stop. people are gonna still say sorry just looking, or people are still gonna rob shit, and shits still gonna catch fire.

the biggest mistake a writer can make is thinking that he can write something that will help people not make the same mistakes that he made. map makers have the same problem. they can show you the road that leads to the bottomless pit and you can mark it bottomless pit but all that ever does is make people want to go to the bottomless pit and now they know the directions.

her name was anna. she lived by the sea. she claimed to read no one but me.

i ate really good last night. i ate italian made from actual italians in a place thats been around since 1818. almost as old as me. it was a place where sailors would come after theyve been at sea on wooden boats. after they drank at the bars and paid for love and cleaned up a little. i pissed in the tiny but really clean bathroom and i wondered how many people barfed pissed and kissed in that john. i wondered how many hands touched that door handle. i wondered how many stories they had to tell.

i took my left overs and gave them to a man passed out in the subway station. he had two shopping bags with him and a wool cap over his eyes. shrimp mariana i told him but he didnt wake up. warm buns and spaghetti i whispered but he snoozed and dreamed of the grand canyon i bet.

amy had eaten with me and she asked me what the nxt big tony pierce thing was. i said i just got a job and i love it. she said yes but its just a blog. i was all baby here we are on an island that the indians thought was just worth some beads. she said good point so what after the blog. i said first i want that blog to be the biggest and best in LA. i want it to make the LA Times jealous. i want it to influence everyone around us. i want it to be the thing that helps writers go on to bigger and better. she said good good but what about for tony.

it was so hard to believe that one of my smartest friends couldnt see that tony was being totally taken care of by that blog. there i was on the road working. there i was eating shrimp and drinking booze and laughing with 100 year old waitresses. for the exception of the ladies who had been jackhammering my heart, this was a trip dreams are made of.

i have no aspirations other than tell the continuing story of LA. while kissing girls out of my league. while striking out across this great land. while sleeping late and wearing dumb clothes and getting closer to the end, which is in itself just the begining of that bottomless pit.

if life was fair id be so much taller

and prettier and nicer and id drive a blacker car.

if life was fair when girls say i read your blog every day, usually twice a day, theyd follow it up with and now im gonna kiss you. if life was fair id have interns writing this shit.

on my radio in my car, a car i wish i was in right now, driving me out of town, they have the e! channel. yes on the radio. and the other day when i was in connecticiut they were telling the true hollywood story of frank sinatra. and frank they said cried a lot. all the time. and when he was done crying hed write a sad song.

everyone loves the chairman of the board but if thats what it takes to write well then i will be stay satisfied with writing poorly. im not going to sigh over eva gardener, and i sure as hell aint gonna cry over anna kournikova or clipper girl or even cipper girls cousin for that matter.

or at least i wont show it on the blog.

what i will do is stay in amazement that one fellow who is supposedly liked by all these women has the hardest time with pretty much all of them.

but they say nice things when i arrive and they say nice things when i get the fuck out. both are not what im looking for, which is for them to say dirty thing during.

sometimes you just wanna go home. sometimes you just want your big old bed andn your big old tv and your big old fridge filled with cold air and promises.

sometimes you just want to build a basement and hide out.

no one believes tahat im shy no one believes i have feelings no one believes that rules, just like records, are meant to be broken.

im exhausted. i walked a lot today. i was rejected again today. i was heartbroken again today,

now i just want to sleep and not wake up until april. ’09

day 20 new york.

they say you shouldnt grocery shop when youre hungry. you probably also shouldnt come to new york if youre single. everything looks delicious. everything looks lovely. everything looks good enough to walk up to and say hi my name is my name is my name is wickawicka.

for some reason i was intimadated in coming into manhattan the other day which is why i spent the night in Conn instead of NYX. if felt like i had to get my hair cut correct like anthony mason. i felt like i had to get my laundry done. like i had to get my car washed waxed and detailed. i felt like i had to get all the miscellaneious shit out of my ride so some crackhead wouldnt say oh look its bob dylans blood on the tracks on 8track i gotta break this fools window and snatch it.

however when i turned the corner and rose up from the on ramp and saw the skyscrapers in the horizon i let out a huge scream and said NEW YAWK WOOT WOOT.

then i got scared again, then i judged everyone again and said how do these people live here. why would they live here. its so expensive. the freeways arent free. they just charged me 4.50 to go across a bridge whose name ive never heard of. the crime. the traffic. the overcrowding.

then i got off in manhattan and i couldnt find a place to park. then i found a place to park and i couldnt find a place to pee. then i found a place to pee and i couldnt find a place to sit down. and then i found a place to park for $27 and i found bicycle mark and we walked around for maybe 4 minutes tops and i said

i want to live here. forever.

every girl was hotter than the next. every girl smiled when i smiled back. every person looked intense and serious. except for the old ladies and kids. everyone was cool. everyone honked as they drove. i loved it. and everyone was dressed amazing. it was warm here yesterday. i had to turn on my ac as i drove around.

the pedistrians have no fear of jaywalking so if youre driving down the road there are tons of people on each side waiting to run across the street. its anarchy. if you hesitate you get cut off. so after about 2 minutes i started cutting people off as a howdoyoudo. they loved it and honked in approval. i think it was approval.

mark and i walked around union square looking for the new trader joes that just opened, but all we could find is the new whole foods that just opened. so then we walked to cooper union to meet some dutch friends of his. turned out one of the guys Sebastian was one of the guys that signed me up for the Bloggers in Amsterdam trip that i took in February where they sent me to holland for a week and put me up in a 5 star hotel and allowed me to meet cool people including bicycle mark and my secret black girlfriend JaG.

so we drank dutch beer at a wine bar on st. marks and 1st and karisa called me and ashley* called me and the hot babe from tonight called me and the dutch travel board probably thought i was cooler than i am which is nice and then i had to leave to get picked up by aj who teaches right off union square. and she looked amazing and because i had been drinking i let her drive which was a smart idea cuz whoa man were people agressive during rush hour.

and we passed CBGBs which is still open somehow! and we went over a big bridge and we were in brooklyn and then we were at her pad and then we were eating and drinking and smoking and thai was consumed, and then sean wallace appeared from the basement appartment and then we saw AJs killer documentary about health professionals who teach gynocological skills to young doctors by letting the doctors practice on them. like breast exams and pap smears. very intense. sorta funny. AJ asked how i liked it and i said i dont remember much because the one lady had huge bazooms and i was all distracted and she punched me in the shoulder. but i was just being honest.

at midnight i was exhausted. but i still knocked out some LAist stuff and went to bed at 1am and slept until 6am until i thought i heard my phone. but it wasnt. then i went to sleep again until 9am until i thought i heard a huge bulldozer. and it was just ford prefect. and then i heard another huge bulldozer and it was just a house they were working on. lots of construction. but i went back to sleep and at 4pm i will walk with amy collins slash langfield across the brooklyn bridge to manhattan.

and tomorrow i will meet one of my bosses. and she will give me my check for the month and tonight i will party with a young asian girl whose roommate molested me the last time i was here. and i will take pictures for you because youre worth it.

photos by Gothamist because buzznet is being poopy and i cant upload for some reason

day 19. connecticuit

when denzel said we didnt land on plymouth rock, that it landed on us, he may have been right. the rock is tiny. a circus strong man could have lifted it over his head. its a dissapointing example of how size matters.

i wrote more about it on LAist this morning and even provided video for your ass.

hi. im in connecticuit. when i logged on to the web at new london karisa told me to turn around and stay at mystic, but the sun was still up so i kept driving. like a fool. always listen to karisa.

what i wanted to do was get as close to NY as possible so i could get a good nights sleep for once and wash my clothes and clean my car and have a good meal.

originally the plan was to make it to brooklyn by now but Plymouth fucking Rock wasnt easy to get to and then i got lost getting out of it and my bowels didnt agree with me so i was making some pit stops. tmi but whatever. all i have to say is thank you mcdonalds for always having relatively clean mens rooms.

so i made it to somewhere but then my mom called and said i should go to new haven to see yale and i was all didnt george bush go there? and she said but i heard its beautiful. so i kept driving and stopped in new haven in front of a Best Western and did what i always do, i looked at the reviews that the hotel got off Google and it got lousy reviews so i kept driving.

what i do is i go to Google Maps, type in the town that i want to be in, then “choose businesses” and type in “motels”. not only does it show you where they are in relation to the freeways but it also gives you the phone numbers, the approximate prices, and the reviews. some of the reviews are obviously written by the staff, and some are two-three years old, but you get the gist.

what i really needed was a place with a laundry because when you travel light you need to do laundry once a week. no questions asked. so i was willing to pay $109 for the marriot residence inn here in spectacular Milford, but right next door was the SpringHill Suites by Marriot so i walked in and asked them how much and they said for you $115, so yeah $6 more gets me a suite, sweet.

they had not just one washer dryer but three. so i went for it. as i had all my clothes in there i walked around in my bathing suit and my robe and figured that this would be a good time to take a dip in the hot tub, and america, it was delightful. then i switched the clothes into the dryer and i realized now all i had were wet swim trunks and a robe. nice work einstein. of course the clothes needed two runs in the dryer so i sat in my room in wet trunks for over an hour writing, surfing, chatting ect. but whatever. however i really could have used a joint.

what i got was out of the laundry room at midnight. then i drove around milford/stratford for another half hour looking for food places and got lost, of course, and stumbled across and olde fashioned diner. i ordered the liver and bacon special to go and at 1am i was gorging like a pig. it was awesome. then i really wanted a joint but im straightedg-ish so i wrote some more and uploaded pics and thought of you and planned to meet with bicycle mark and went to bed at a reasonable 2:30am and here i am this morning telling you that new york im coming to get you baby.

and i resisted writing a piece of satire on LAist titled “TO Suicide Attempt Foiled By Promise of LA NFL Expansion Team”. see, wasnt that funny.

day 18. fenway park

if you love baseball theres two parks that are holy to you. maybe three. but the top two are wrigley field and fenway park. in that order, if you ask me.

since i was lucky enough to have basically grown up at wrigley, fenway has always been at the top of my list of places to go before i die. last night i woke up in pittsfield mass, drove over to emily dickinson’s house, when she wasnt home i got on the mass pike and headed to the place where the red sox had sufferred.

because life isnt fair tomdog knew someone who worked across the street from fenway and happened to be the sox’s on-call physician. needless to say our tickets were great and everyone knew about baseball.

yes parking was $30, yes it was a bitch to find the place, yes it was a bitch to get there during rush hour but we entered right off yawkey way right next to the green monstah and it was like being on a movie set. it was like being in a dream. it was like being in a tv show. it was totally unlike anything i imagined.

so small, so colorful, so charming, so cozy. it was almost like being at a minor league park it was so teeny.

despite the fact that the sox are out of it the place was packed and everyone had some sort of red sox jersey or tshirt or hat on. they cheered every inning, they stood up every time Big Papi got into the box, and on his second at bat he sent one deep.

it was curt schilling on the mound. it was a perfect autumn evening. it was just a few games before the end of the season. it was tomdog buying 7 hot dogs and tony eating two and drinking beers and being so dazed to even be there that i didnt realize that it was schil pitching a one-run game until the 5th inning.

it was so perfect it made me disgusted with dodger and angels fans for being so lame in comparison.

there was a kid who painted himself red from head to toe running all around the park and getting chased out by ushers. there were people in the standing room only sections until the very last out. there were old people and young people and hot chicks and everyone had a beer and everyone had a smile and everyone cared about this meaningless game and los angeles nobody left early pretending they had something better to do because guess what there is no better place to be than at fenway if youre in boston, which isnt a diss to boston.

afterwards i drove to cape cod, got lost, wound up in Chatham on the cod where tomdog recommended, but because it was 1:20am at that point all the motels were closed for the night since it was off season. so i drove around in the dark and got lost more and got trailed by several cops several times because apparently theres some money out here. and when i finally decided at 2am to get back on the 6 and head toward Hyannis where i had remembered a motel at the side of the road, i got pulled over by a cop right as i was going on the on ramp.

“im just looking for a motel, dude.” i told him.
“theres some down the way a bit,” he said.
“yep, thats where im headed, all the ones in Chatham were closed at this hour,” i said.
“um hmm. i’ll be back in a bit,” and he ran my DL through his driving while black machine and came back and said, “exit 6 should have some motels open. i just wrote your name down, thats all.”

and i was sent on my way wondering. wtf. i wrote his name down too. officer jackhole. black man from cali cant get lost on the eastern tip of america?

drove down and found a Days Inn but they were full, then decided to suck it up and pay for a Holiday Inn room and it was swanky and nice and the dude at the desk was all, $139, but its so late, how about $109. and i called him the man.

“how do you like it out there in Hollywood anyway?” he asked and i told him i loved it and he said he felt scared there even when on the freeways. i said the freeways are very dangerous. then i asked him where he was from and he said New Orleans. and i said thats a scary place too.

and we agreed that neither places are as scary as driving around cape cod in the middle of the night slowly with california plates and an Obey sticker on your bumpah.

and after taking a picture of plymouth rock today, there will be no sleep till brooklyn.

tons of pics here + LAist photo essay here

since i have a few minute before i pack and hit the road again

fil me and pitt

let me acknowledge something interesting about the road.

eminating from the whitehouse and their nut-licking apologists in the blogosphere, there seems to be a secret competition as to who can blow the most smoke up the ass of americans.

likewise out here on the road there seems to be a secret competition too, a far less nefarious one. people are aligning themselves to see how generous they can be towards me. and although pretty much everyone has been super cool to me as i blow into their town, two men have risen to the top.

the first is general patrick j pitt (pictured, gay) who would barely let me buy a donut at tim hortons with my own money, let alone a lapdance from a schoolteacher. he did however let me beat him at madden, eat his yogurt, and even allowed me to kiss his fiance on both cheeks.

and now we have mr tomdog k lewis here in coincidentally enough pittsfield mass who took me to a delicious fine dining experience last night that was so good that im straining to even keep the poo inside me because my bowels deserve every moment with that fresh salmon cuisine.

even though everyone has been extraordinarily sweet to me from coast to coast, these two gentlemen have risen above the maddening crowd. tom’s little angels even sweetly woke me this morning with sweet faces and tugging little hands removing the blankets from my face and giggling and then pounding on the bed while laughing outloud.

hi babies i said. hi tony they said. but unlike adults, when kids want to play they want to play no matter what hour of the morning it is, which is why i had to open one eye and say bye bye which weirdly they understood and they ran out of my room and sorta sadly said, “he said bye bye.” so sweet.

i was back in dreamland immediately because my body is fat but perfect.

now i write you from tom’s living room after watching his tivo and drinking his children’s apple juice. western mass is gorgeous and sunny and americana to the maxima. i want to put it in a pie and eat it.

driving through albany last night was also pretty amazing. who knew they built a shiny steel batman set in the capital of ny? those shiny skyscrapers and weird egg music hall totally rival LA’s halfassed downtown skyline.

anyways as i approach the east-most portion of the US (or as close as i will get) i want to thank everyone who has bought me drinks, given me shelter, put their hand down my pants, or allowed me to put my hand up their skirt. i couldnt be where i am today without all of you and i appreciate meeting all the new faces ive gotten to see as well as those who ive met just once or twice. im a very lucky man and its because of the people i know.

although this probably wont stop me from being a complete hermit, it has certainly showed me how much better life is outside of my dark little room in east hollywood.

keith olbermann should be the next president

how is it that its always 237am?

im thinking about going to cape cod tomorrow after the sox game. tomdog is hooking me up with free tickets to the game. he hooked me up with his guest room which is as big as my entire living room at home. bigger probably. he also hooked me up with and upscale dinner here in pittsfield mass. or the town next to pittsfield,

he also hooked me up with a red tail beer right before he went upstairs to bed.

so im thinking about going to the cape not just after the game tomorrow but for two nights because i really have to write. traveling and partying and pretending not to get laid is tiring and you dont get any writing done. itd be nice to just laze about for a day and not bother with driving anywheres not bother with seeing a new city, just waking up late, going to bed late and waking up late again.

you know, like my regular life.

this month is coming close to an end and LAist broke another record for traffic already. with that comes so many responsibilities. just dealing with the email takes hours and hours and hours. thats why its always 247am or worse when i get to write in the busblog. cuz i might start at midnight and all the mail that piled up since dinnertime has to be dealt with and then regular work happens and then its pretty late to be writing this.

ive been so busy traveling and LAisting that i havent even had time to put my new BlogAds thing up there. when you’d rather sleep than make money off your personal blog you know youre sleepy.

tomorrow im going to go to Emily Dickenson’s house. then maybe pahk mah cah at hahvad before seeing the sahx.

everywhere i go theres beautiful women. it makes you wonder why i still live in LA other than all my friends living there and the great weather. our waitress was a kyaker. as i totally loved the mashed potatoes and string beans i wondered if a man like me could please a superathlete like her if i was always eating mashed potatoes and drinking beer all the time.

the answer of course is yes because everyone knows once you get married the sex ends as does all of your hobbies once you have kids. so then the question is, does she have the same taste in tv shows as i do.

its cold here and i only brought one pair of pants on this trip and no sweaters and no flannels because it was a gazillion degrees when i left LA in my shorts slash bathing suit.

kiyak chick asked me how i was enjoying my trip and i said it just makes me love oregon. and she said i drove across the country to kiyak in oregon and i said marry me and she said k.

day 17 toronto recap

i shoulda stayed in canada and i should be in montreal right now but i was having two silly problems. one is my cell phone didnt work in the great white north. the other was my interweb wasnt realy working up there neither and i am on this trip partially for work, and i have to be a responsible editor, and blogger. while drunk drugged and dopey.

ok so where did we leave off? i slept on pitt’s cot and dreampt about my girl in africa. it was nice to catch up with her. pitt and i drove to see some strippers slash soccer moms and that was followed by karaoke with raymi and pretty much all the cool bloggers of Toronto minus a few…. PAIGE, CHRISTIE

we drank and sang and there was a white girl who freestyled to the beasties, there was raymi who dominated, pitt dominated, i dominated Thunder Road, i got to meet courtney and carrie and radmad, and sweaty hermit, and ber, and ettienes xbf, and i know im forgetting lots of people forgive me i was wasted and each chick was only hotter than the next. it was crazy. jeremy said its the air.

so then radmad said lets have the afterparty at my house whooo, so we took cabs to The Beaches where immediately the home karoake was rocked. at 4:30am her neighbors had had enough and came down and said the f word and the karoake went away but the canadian club came out as did some illicitness. and boobies. lots of boobies were shown. canadian boobies are pretty nice, people. gotta say. tried to spend the night with some of those boobies but i was denied. my mojo has clearly been borrowed by the chicago bears, a deal im willing to accept.

although earlier in the night at the karaoke a beautiful girl said omg tony pierce and then pulled down her pants for me so i could see her bush. yes canada that is the way to greet me. thank you. remember that america cuz im in buffalo now heading to boston.

two and half hours after falling asleep radmads neighbors put a stereo next to her window and cranked the red hot chili peppers and played the piano loudly. she laughed they laughed but me and chad didnt laugh. we wanted to die. then we had breakfast with them. then we took the trolly to raymis hoooose to collect my car. then we drove to somewhere to watch football with jeremy. then we ordered pizza. then we drank beer. then i took a shower. the whole time i was sleepy as fuck. then i called ber and it was raining. and i got lost getting back to toronto to meet her at the green door. i was all turned around. then we ate and drank on those great couches and we exchanged dirty conversations. but shes in love with a new boy too.

notice a pattern? at first i was getting very depressed that all these women were all, oh id love to show you my boobies but i have a bf or i just got a bf but last night i was on the phone and this girl who i will meet later on this trip said, you are just the angel of good luck tony. all these nice people who you like are getting into great relationships Because of you. is it so bad that youre going without if they are getting what they want? and i guess shes right. but if she gets a boyfriend two days before i get to her town im gonna jump off a cliff.

so after dinner and drinks with ber i dropped her off at her mans house and got lost leaving toronto and chalked it up to fatigue and drove to buffalo which is suprisingly close to TO and smiled at a girl at the Tim Hortons and she smiled back and i said when are you getting off and she said im sick i said i dont care she said i dont either and i said when are you getting off and she said 4am and i said yikes. so i gave her the busblogs web address and hi girl from tim hortons. who knew they had them in the usa? fuckers gonna invade us.

after that little flirtation i got a second wind and drove east. got the nice phone call. the roads started becoming toll roads and that was annoying so here i am near the Six Flags outside of buffalo and i wanted to write and work all night last night but as soon as i got in the bed i started nodding off. but i did put pictures up and i slept well and im now stoked to drive to boston. and im tripley stoked that the bears are 3-0.

what i will do now is shower and eat and drive a few hours and pull over and work for a few hours and make it into boston in the wee hours probably so remember the alamo.

raymis pics