hey its friday

hey its tony. which means its ask friday

leave your message at the beep and we’ll see what we can do

update: for some reason Haloscan is taking a three day weekend of sorts, so if you dont see a way to use the comments box, email your questions to busblog at gmail dot com and we’ll help change yr life

today i have to speak to a journalism class at cal state los angeles

and im a tad nervous

even though ive done this sorta thing a few times i always get a few butterflies, which is nice, it reminds me im alive.

i get nervous because i dont wanna say the wrong thing and embarrass my boss or the paper.

what will i say? same old same old: dream, dream big, then dream bigger. kiss the people you like, live, then write it down.

A-B-B: always be blogging.

dont listen to the haters in your life. theyre on the planet to hate, youre on the planet to rock.

without the haters the game wouldnt be as fun. how fun would basketball be if there was no one defending you?

how fun would dating be if all the girls showed up to yr door with a tshirt that said i <3 busblog? how fun would pacman be without Blinky Inky Stinky and Mel? be creative, be outrageous, be ridiculous, forget about spelling, forget about design, forget about rules, just write. write till you get carpal tunnel. write until you get fired from E!, write until your girlfriends hand in their i <3 busblog halfshirts because theyre sick about getting written about. write at night, write when youre tired, write when you have nothing to say, write when you have everything to say. have secret blogs, have public blogs, have group blogs, have blogs where you write as the opposite sex. have video blogs have dream blogs have nightmare blogs have daydream blogs. omg have a blog where nothings true. some might say this advice is good for writers but not photographers. i would say you should have posted that complaint in a blog and added a photo. i would have said add a photo essay, i would have said made a gallery in flickr with 100 people frowning. the world is yr oyster, get a bib. then tell us and show us and share with us how it tasted.

i dont need a new car

i dont need a dishwasher i dont need a new mattress

i dont need a tv in the living room. i dont need an xwife. i dont need rush limbaugh to hope america succeeds. i dont need a washer and dryer where my fridge is.

i dont need any new clothes. i dont need to fly first class. i dont need rockstar parking. i dont need fries with that.

i dont need a vip pass. i dont need a gazillion readers to the busblog. i dont need haters to suddenly stop hating.

i dont need new sheets. i dont need a hand. i dont need a million comments on every post. i dont need to write another book. i dont need higher education. i dont need to get it.

i dont need howard stern on demand on my directv. i dont need the cubs to get manny. i dont need the right wing blogosphere to give obama a chance. i dont need a house two point three kids a minivan and one point two wives.

i dont need a flowbee or a shamwah or a blanket with arms in it. i dont need any stimulus relief. i dont need to read another book by margaret atwood.

all i need is just a few more hours of sleep.

but shes stroking my arm with her presson nails.

which isnt the universal sign for pleasant dreams bloggr.

so i roll over and say like janet jackson, i need a beat.

24 year old female holyoke 8th grade teacher

caught on a romantic motel trip to west virginia with student


Karisa gets upset that i overlook all of the news that steadily flows from her hometown of Holyoke, Mass

not only is this the story of the day from her stomping grounds, but the comments on Mass Live are classic. An excerpt:

– i dont get it, she looks like a little cutie. wtf was she thinking enguaging in a relationship and kidnapping an 8th grader? this world has gone upside down.

– 15 and in 8th grade??? He had a good reason for staying back I suppose.

– Aren’t seven grade graduates considered Rhodes Scholars in Holyoke?

tsar played this quasi hard rock cafe club in madrid on new years on the millennium

it was the last vacation my truest and i had as a couple.

we had planned on breaking up in november but the thought of getting new apartments around the holidays seemed like a downer so when tsar said they were gonna play four nights in spain for y2k we were all, we gotta go.

it was probably my last taste of pre 9/11 because i flew international with a pair of scissors in my backpack because i was going to wrap some belated christmas gifts and send them from a Foreign Land. only on the trip back did security let me know that it wasnt ok. but they still let me through with them!

we partied all night and slept all day and seriously had to set the alarm so we could catch 90 minutes of daylight and run to the museo to see your boy Hieronymus. danced in the town square danced in a sweaty “club” that had the beastie boys on a glorified boom box danced in a garage of a kid whose parents were out of town.

danced in tsars hotel room overlooking the world as the skies filled with fireworks.

every once in a while her eyes would tear up because it was so bittersweet.

maybe it was the emotion i was repressing but the food to me tasted so dull and lifeless. here were these glorious people everywhere – whole families strolling through the town – everyone looking good. but every meal i ate was spoonful of disappointment.

and for some reason they served frozen, rigged, french fries with anything id order. breakfast lunch or dinner.

so when metromix sarah told me there was a new spanish place in little tokyo called spitz

featuring some amazing kebob sandwhiches i was all yawn.

but we went and it was great and i see hope for spain now so bravo

Spitz
371 E. 2nd Street
L.A., CA 90012
(213) 613 0101
eatatspitz.com