i wanna write about my band the Burglars but its secret

and i think there might be a reunion soon.

back in the day, you may have heard about it, we would clubhop on the sunset strip and listen to bands.

if one band was particularly horrible we would take the stockings from out of our back pockets and put them over our heads.

our three “body guards” would follow us as we rushed the stage and kicked the band off.

if they put up a fight the body guards would pull guns on them and make them put their heads on the ground.

our singer would grab the mic and say “ladies and gentlemen – theres nothing to fear at all. for we, you see, are the Burglars, and we, unlike these mother effers, have come to rock. 1-2-3-4…”

and we’d rock.

at first the rock consisted of two minute punk songs, ramones covers, and a little motorhead. eventually we started writing our own material because we wanted it to be even harder.

when we began, to ensure we wouldnt get arrested, we’d pay off the bouncers.

sometimes the bouncers would give us the money back as we ran out of the club at the end of a particularily scorching set.

a few things we realized. most people had no idea that we werent part of the original “act”, they thought that it was all scripted.

also, after a while the bands themselves enjoyed being burglarized. thats when we’d run off with their equipment. which of course led to actual arrests, and the end of the band.

my favorite show was when we burglarized an extremely popular hair metal band and i was dressed as Pokey from the Gumby show. i had a huge horse costume, and the head of the costume had a stocking over its face. it was pretty hilarious, and hard to do because we had to sew a few stockings together, which wasnt easy.

fortunately dry cleaners will “alter” anything.

anyways the other day we were at spaceland and this one band was so bad that i texted my old singer and i was all, “yo jake, it’s tony. we’re thinking about putting the band back together…”

all i gotta say is we practiced last night, and it was like riding a bike.

a stolen one.

six minutes with tony

ok i have six minutes before my next meeting and then im booked for pretty much the rest of the day so lets rock.

last night karisa and i went to the best sushi place in LA, kanpai in westchester, and she wore these super hot shoes. they were so hot she was glowing. at first i thought it was cuz she was with me, but nope. shoes.

our waiter is this guy named peter who is sorta famous. any time you read a review abotu kanpai they talk about three things: how great the food is, how expensive the food is, and peter and how he makes it all worth it.

for some reason he always recognizes me and never seems to recognize karisa. she refreshed his memory and said hi i come here almost every week with my boyfriend. peter looked at me and said, i thought he (pointing at me) was your boyfriend.

bro knows how to get a big tip, thats for sure.

but back to me. when i had a huge afro i thought that was the reason that people would remember me. once jeanine and i went to rosarito (before they started murdering people) when we were first falling in love. then we went back a year later. crazy ass motel man looked at me before i even handed over any ID and was all “wow, you havent been here in a long time!”

secretly i prefer to lay low and stay under the radar, and i always thought hanging out with beautiful women like karisa and jeanine would help me in that quest, but alas its not working.

maybe i should start wearing pants.

theres so many different ways our lives coulda ended up

when i was a kid i thought that by now id have a house a few kids a dog a minivan a huge afro golf clubs a huge satelite dish in my back yard a pool table in the basement a barbershop quartet moustashe a fridgerator in the garage a fridgerator in the kitchen that had an ice maker a station waggon a 401k a beer belly an exchange student a kite stuck in a tree a minibike that my wife said dont let the kids ride but when shes shopping i lettem ride couplea fish named angus and malcolm some rare picassos six seven suits renters insurance and several bowling league trophies.

instead i have a blog. and you. and pretty much all the freedom in the world.

how did this happen? how did the lord bless me so? how is it that everything that i thought would be mine is someone elses and they seem happy with it but i seem just as happy without it. maybe more. maybe.

how is it that every bit of music except exodus’s free for all is available at the click of a button or the spin of bottle? how is it that you can pause live tv? how is it that you can buy a house with no money down? how is it that gas is $2.75 and we think thats the greatest deal ever. how is it that theres a black man in the white house and his name isnt sammy sosa?

how is it that monday i woke up and both of my alarm clocks said a certain time a half hour earlier than what it was but my iphone said it was the correct time and i swear to you after i took my shower the clocks had corrected themselves?

how is it that people pay me money for things that take me ten seconds to do and with that money i can send a dutch girl a sweet christmas gift and have money left over to pay for an expensive and sinfully delicious sushi meal for two? how is it that im pretty sure that those sorta opportunities wont end.

how is it that the cubs arent world champs right now. how is it that i dont have a sweet pair of pumas right now. how is it that yesterday at this time i was checking out a hottie in hello kitty booty shorts and today im not and im sorta ok with that. how is it that ive worked at my dream job for 11 months now and i still take pictures like a tourist inside the building?

but if you could only answer one question please tell me how all the vjs have come and gone on mtv but why god has john norris the least interesting of all of them and his frosted tips has been allowed to stay.

bring back kennedy.

karisa got me drunk so blame her

she also doesnt blog as much as she should, so blamer for not teaching the world how to sing. also blamer for not understanding that blogging isnt telling the story that you know youre gonna tell, its telling the story that you dont know the ending to. true story:

leaned into kiss a girl a little more than half my age other day. swore shed kiss me if i came over and sure enough reneged on the deal. fair enough. such is the will of the fairer sex. no one said itd be fair(er). so i was all, is that the game we’re gonna play tonight? fine./

which is lesson one of blogging. even though you think you know what the plots gonna be, if youre in the moment you have no idea. cut to dennys. shes blah blah blahing saying take me home so i think about flipping a biatch but instead turn left at the dennys turn left at the next street and turn left at the next.

because women can change their minds so quickly by the time i flipped my signal on the first left and by the time i was ready to turn right and taker home she had loosened the knot in her hair and had decided she was gonna be a good girl and all was well. people say that you can waste your time on certain dates, lemme tell you this, that u-turn that turned into a loop is a moment i will never ever ever forget cuz she was all hell no f this at 9:07 and at 9:08 she had my hand upon her hip lets dip lets dip lets dip.

now do you see why i love mankind?

this morning i woke up in the lusting arms of a young lady completely satisfied that there i was in the perfumed room of a girl who looked so young that when the ID lady slid her drivers liscense last night at spaceland she said are you sure this is yours? and when she slid mine gasped 102? youre holding up Amazingly and i said clean living baby and exhaled.

nothings better than waking up in a new girls bed. nothing. not watching her get dressed. not listening to her pick out horrible music on her laptop. not watching the sunlight appear. not twisting all night with her in the endless dance of can i touch here no stopit whatabout here no STOP snooze what about here.

some nights you’ll wake up with a girl on top of youand other nights you’ll wake up with the pounding at the front door. anythings possible in dating world so take nthing personal cuz its not about you its about entering a twilight zone and yore merely an xtra.

tonight i ate sushi with karisa in culver city and the dude was so cool to us that i wanna die. i dont wanna die cuz the last time i woke up in a new girls bedroom i thought that would be the last time and this time i couldnt believe it either. and every times differnet and every time is asteroids hyperspace you dont know if yu’ll be safe you dont know if you’ll instantly assplode you dont know if you’ll xplode 2 seconds after hitting the button.

all you know is its a game

and everyone dies in the end.

so rock while you have a life to rock.

and a-b-b: always be blogging.

no really. thats not a photoshop in my header.

if you go to LATimes.com right now you will see the responsibility project presenting Tony. its crazy. and now for my favorite veteran’s song.

Born down in a dead mans town
The first kick I took was when I hit the ground
You end up like a dog thats been beat too much
Till you spend half your life just covering up

Born in the u.s.a., I was born in the u.s.a.
I was born in the u.s.a., born in the u.s.a.

Got in a little hometown jam
So they put a rifle in my hand
Sent me off to a foreign land
To go and kill the yellow man

Born in the u.s..a….

Come back home to the refinery
Hiring man said son if it was up to me
Went down to see my V.A. man
He said son, dont you understand

I had a brother at Khe Sahn
Fighting off the Viet Cong
Theyre still there, hes all gone

He had a woman he loved in Saigon
I got a picture of him in her arms now

Down in the shadow of the penitentiary
Out by the gas fires of the refinery
Im ten years burning down the road
Nowhere to run aint got nowhere to go

Born in the u.s.a., I was born in the u.s.a.
Born in the u.s.a., Im a long gone daddy in the u.s.a.
Born in the u.s.a., born in the u.s.a.
Born in the u.s.a., Im a cool rocking daddy in the u.s.a.

from/for our bro major pattrick j pitt

for rememberance day

When I was a young man I carried my pack
And I lived the free life of a rover
From the Murrays green basin to the dusty outback
I waltzed my Matilda all over
Then in nineteen fifteen my country said Son
It’s time to stop rambling ’cause there’s work to be done
So they gave me a tin hat and they gave me a gun
And they sent me away to the war
And the band played Waltzing Matilda
As we sailed away from the quay
And amidst all the tears and the shouts and the cheers
We sailed off to Gallipoli

How well I remember that terrible day
How the blood stained the sand and the water
And how in that hell that they called Suvla Bay
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter
Johnny Turk he was ready, he primed himself well
He chased us with bullets, he rained us with shells
And in five minutes flat he’d blown us all to hell
Nearly blew us right back to Australia
But the band played Waltzing Matilda
As we stopped to bury our slain
We buried ours and the Turks buried theirs
Then we started all over again

Now those that were left, well we tried to survive
In a mad world of blood, death and fire
And for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive
But around me the corpses piled higher
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over tit
And when I woke up in my hospital bed
And saw what it had done, I wished I was dead
Never knew there were worse things than dying
For no more I’ll go waltzing Matilda
All around the green bush far and near
For to hump tent and pegs, a man needs two legs
No more waltzing Matilda for me

So they collected the cripples, the wounded, the maimed
And they shipped us back home to Australia
The armless, the legless, the blind, the insane
Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla
And as our ship pulled into Circular Quay
I looked at the place where my legs used to be
And thank Christ there was nobody waiting for me
To grieve and to mourn and to pity
And the band played Waltzing Matilda
As they carried us down the gangway
But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared
Then turned all their faces away

And now every April I sit on my porch
And I watch the parade pass before me
And I watch my old comrades, how proudly they march
Reliving old dreams of past glory
And the old men march slowly, all bent, stiff and sore
The forgotten heroes from a forgotten war
And the young people ask, “What are they marching for?”
And I ask myself the same question
And the band plays Waltzing Matilda
And the old men answer to the call
But year after year their numbers get fewer
Some day no one will march there at all

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda
Who’ll come a waltzing Matilda with me
And their ghosts may be heard as you pass the Billabong
Who’ll come-a-waltzing Matilda with me?

girl who wouldnt kiss me was suddenly kissing me

and couldnt believe it or something because she had put up a respectable and valiant fight but there she was doing what she swore she wouldnt do and on top of that liked it. duh.

she was all, how do you do it tony.

i said do what.

she said how do you get girls.

i was like i dont know, how do you get guys.

she adjusted her top and said getting guys is easy.

i said getting girls is easy too.

she said no it isnt.

i was all, everyone wants the same things. so yes it is easy.

she was like but what do you say.

i said, you heard what i said, i say the truth.

she asked but what.

i said, i wrote it down in this book called how to blog. you should read it. its pretty great.

she scrunched her eyes and said but blogging isnt the same as getting girls to make out with you on sunset blvd next to the tiki ti.

i said blogging is about being honest and expressing the things youre passionate about in a creative and confident way. so is sliding your hand off the stick shift to where it belongs.

she didnt like the answer. or at least pretended not to. and later asked me to take back what i wrote about her earlier, and since nothing in here is true i take back what i wrote about you.

sometimes my favorite bloggers dont blog for a while

then they blog all at once and its a rainstorm of great posts. so get em while theyre hot:

etorre (pictured, above, with dbag) is back and still pining over an old flame. update: just wrote a second post(!?) about how she made out with dudes too much in hs, etc

the pants is back! and pissed at a recently extinguished flame.

flagrant is back and on different meds that shes been avoiding

zulieka is back and playing the damn piano like a maestro for your undeserving buttocks

danielle is back and making out with a new dude – until the old dude catches them!

truly amazing all of them, and i heart them all