Author Archives: tony

im starving

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theyre gonna put a thing up my butt tomorrow.

a thing with a camera on it.

to make sure they can see what they need to see i cant have any food in there.

so i cannot eat food today.

i have gone through a variety of emotions.

ive wanted to fight, cry, scream, now im chill for some reason.

weird because i should be half way through a meeting right now, but my meeting was bumped.

so im waiting for my meeting to be allowed to take place.

all i wanna do is go home and cry.

a nice Jewish girl who i work with pointed at my apple juice and said,

“you’re having a party right now. once a year we don’t get to eat OR drink anything.”

that made me feel better.

she said they also think spiritual things when theyre fasting.

like they are supposed to think about all the bad things they’ve done that year.

i was all, ive done a lot more than can be handled in a day.

the other day though i did something good.

at the xbi we call it: saved a cat from a tree.

this cat was in a tree that was on fire.

afterwards i thought i could just play it off but i had to see a doctor to remove a bullet from my side.

so i went and ate steak to get some of that meat back.

its been a week of losing blood, giving blood, eating bloody meat.

and now eating nothing and being forced to be patient.

tomorrow theyre gonna put that camera in me and i hope they dont see anything bad.

im the only bad thing.

went to the ballet last night, those bastards

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it was Dudamel conducting a few Russian numbers you know so well, and the most famous black ballerina in the world, Misty Copeland

it was all Amber’s idea and since i usually call the shots in life, we made her request come true.

weird thing about ballets at the Bowl: they start pretty much on time, complete with an introductory performance of the National Anthem (?) immediately followed by the rock.

there was a huge lineup at the gate so we walked allllll the way over to the back side which was smart, but after picking up some food we were a tad late getting to our seats and because the Bowl is fancy, they dont let you sit down until the movement has moved on. when we got to our row we excused ourselves and made it to where we were supposed to sit and there was lady there. older. she had lots of picnic baskets. she seemed surprised that we wanted to sit in our seats.

it was very uncomfortable because now the movement was going again.

“they should have come on time,” said one lady behind us with all the judgement she could muster.

the older lady in our seat holding her wine glass was really confused, how would she get through the row with all of her stuff. LORD HELP YOU SIT ON A BENCH FOR 90 MINUTES WITHOUT ALL THE FOOD AND DRINK IN THE WORLD.

when she eventually got moving i heard, “look what they are doing to the poor woman!”

ive been to hundreds of rock shows. ive never heard such hate from another concert-goer as these classical fans.

finally she left. we sat frozen trying to be good people. and before we knew it it was time for the intermission. at first we thought it was just a quick break because the show had started like 20 minutes before, but no, we were in store for a half hour intermission.

whatever, ate Hollywood Bowl sushi, drank a Mexicoke and noticed the older lady was still wandering around looking for a home. poor dear.

the girls next to us were there for this handsome ballet dude. they cheered for him so hard. cute. but most of the place was there for Misty. lots more people of color in the seats than i expected. great to see. also way more kids there than i thought would be there.

music was great. i love great musicians. dancing was meh. ballet is dead.

afterwards we cruised along hollywood blvd.

and never once did we talk about how the xbi made me go to urgent care because they forgot they had put a tiny explosive in my side and forgot to get it removed.

today i have to have a liquid diet because tomorrow i am having my colon scoped. joy.

dear tony, i have worthiness issues

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tony. i am rich. i am beautiful. i have a house that is shaped like a boat and my girlfriends come over and we frolic and drink wine and wear floppy hats.

but when my husband comes home i wonder, LIKE ALL THE TIME, do i really deserve this life? and it haunts me. 

ive spent thousands in therapy. but i come to you. what can i do?

signed,

unworthy

dear floppy hat woman,

for a long time i was in your shoes. and they hurt. you wear crazy high heels.

but you also have shoes that dont fit you. they are for someone else.

your house, your man, and your inflatables, though, are for you.

how do i know? because you have the key, the ring, and when you jump in your pool you are not arrested.

it is yours. own it. fucking pee in the pool for all i care.

your life is yours. but i will be honest here. i know that no matter what you do, no matter who your shrink is, no matter how much you give to charity or how often you drown your anxiety with pills and booze, you will never be truly satisfied because of this:

you know as well as i do that this isn’t the final exam. you and i both know that the empty spot in your heart has nothing to do with sex drugs band girls money.

and unlike what yr shrink says it has nothing to do with your mommy or daddy. they may have contributed to that annoying voice in your head but Clowntime is Over, Elvis. you’re a big girl now. shake it off.

the only person you should care about is Jesus.

how is that scoreboard in Heaven gonna read out when you’re done with these little games on Earth that have to do with carpet samples and hiding cords into dry wall? will Jesus accept you into Paradise City?

and why should He?

pouring out soup to homeless on Skid Row isn’t the answer either, although it’s a good step in the right direction.

but ask yourself, how are you with those around you? are you a real friend, are you a good wife? are you a good kid. are you helping like REALLY helping your hood? or are you selfish? it’s not really What Would Jesus Do, but what would Jesus want You to do.

He wouldn’t want you to be a fucking dipshit brat thats for sure.

But bigger than that: he would want you to be Wonderful.

so be Wonderful.

every day.

take a break on Sunday.

but get back to it during the week.

you know how to be wonderful to everyone.

why on Earth would you hold that back.

ps dont pee in the pool.

the lights dimmed, we were at the movies: A Ghost Story

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little known fact: theres very little that can scare me

EXCEPT GHOST STORIES

as a born again Christian, I don’t believe in ghosts

but the stories freak me out.

suddenly i wondered what the hell am i doing at a movie called Ghost Story?

what if it’s super scary.

what if the hot babe sitting next to me loses all respect for me if i shriek?

how did i end up here?

it was cool in the theater, which was refreshing. i dont have AC in my APT

she had a short tight dress on. i put my hand on her leg, smooth from a recent shave

smoother still thanks to lotion.

girls are magic.

the movie was weird.

saw mel brooks on camden in beverly hills yesterday in the heat

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outside some store

all these autograph hounds all around him with posters of his movies

and glossy pictures.

where do these people come from?

how do they know he’s gonna be there?

where do they buy all those Sharpies?

and Mel just turned 91 last week. still out there giving the people what they want. if i only had a Young Frankenstein stein I would have been out there too begging him to sign it for me.

but alas, i was driving around rodeo trying to get a nibble.

even a short ride would be good on a hot day.

anything.

floated over to westwood. got a ping at one of those wilshire skyscraper condos.

in walks an old man and his youngish wife.

we are going to the Grill on the Alley

first he tells me to turn down the jazz and then questions why im avoiding wilshire.

just take it all the way!

anything you say.

around the hilton theres a traffic jam. he still directs me.

i try to change the subject.

so what’s good over at the Grill?

he tells me everythings good and the service is excellent.

he mentions liver.

i go, omg i love liver. do they serve it with onions or bacon?

he says, they serve it with onions And bacon.

i say i dont want to drop you off. you both must stay and drive with me. you for the directions and your wife for her beautiful perfume.

she smiles.

he says, i cannot afford that perfume.

when they get out he slides me a five dollar bill.

liver friends.

it might not be for you, but for me Ubering is spiritual

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youre out there swimming with sharks

the people of Los Angeles aren’t the greatest drivers.

they’re from all over the world, they have different ideas of what the rules of the road are

they’re drunk, they’re high, they’re fighting via text, they’re taking selfies, they’re eating, they’re mad, sad, joyous

and the traffic isn’t great.

thus, if you don’t have to be out there, you probably shouldn’t because you could get hit, shot, enticed into a fight.

the earth could open up and swallow you right in there.

therefore if you ask me, you should trust your instincts. if you dont wanna be out there, dont go. if you feel trapped, escape. if you are solely doing it for the money or the surge or the bonus: i cant imagine too many good things happening.

but if youre out there first and foremost to help the people get around then you will.

if youre out there to be informative and loving and you are sharing the city with your passengers

then very good things will happen

sometimes even for you.

if cats cared they wouldnt be called cats

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theyd be called nurses.

nurse came over my house the other day and said

stick out your tongue

say ahhhhhh

how many fingers am i holding up

whats the square root of sandwich

why does the free bird sing

if a train left chicago on wednesday how many cold cokes will be in its fridge when it arrives in los angeles’ union station

why dont you floss more

why is your door open

youre not mr goldblum

what are all these hats on the wall

where is your insurance card

you arent mr gold’s son

please put your shirt back on

i said please

if cats cared they’d say please more often.

do you ever feel stuck

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like your wheels are spinning

like youre in traffic that aint moving

like youre trying to get your robe on but you cant find the sleeve hole

like youre digging and digging but

like youre searching and searching and

like youre dialing and

why am i dialing?

is this a dream? didnt we outlaw dreams?

like youre burying and burying

like youre swimming and

treading water

and splashing

and looking

and doggy paddling

and floating

and floating

and

float

in

g

bear with me

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took the cats in yesterday to get their annual check up and the lady said

these are the most behaved cats ive seen in here in a long time.

which is true, they’re good animals and ive taught them to be chill.

we have this little ESP that they clearly learned from the xbi

and im in the same wave length

today i was over by the beach getting ready to drive a whole lotta

4th of July Uber and Lyft rides when i got a message

yo, you should come back home

even though Prince and Michael can deal with rectal exams and weird offices

the booming of the fireworks in Hollywood apparently made them

uneasy.

as i drove through LA fireworks blossomed to the left and the right of me

like a coronation

it made me a little emotional because i love this city so much

and the weather was perfect and seriously every block there were little groups of people

just launching surface to air missiles with beautiful results.

for my entire half hour drive

boom boom ahhhhhhh

got home and the cats first pretended like it was all nbd

but soon they were both in my room,

high up by the tvs

and alert.

todays the fourth of july

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the day all the good little boys and girls get to flee from their tyrannical countries

which are unsafe, underserved, and riddled with dirty air water and old men.

bring me your bags of cash the statue says

which oil company do you work for asks the survey

charlie cant read, but his driver can and fills out the paperwork

gets his hand stamped,

tips the doorman

and voila: americano.

when you run the country like a business

your closets become stuffed with receipts.