all i keep singing in my head is that justin timberlake song.

i want to rock your bod-ay

please stay.

once again the devil has invaded the friendly confines of my gray matter and i am victimized in his name.

clippergirl’s cousin is emailing me asking that i use her real name but nothing in this thing is true, plus if i used her real name then all youd have to do is a quickie little google search and voila find her sisters name in the clipper press guide. so no thanks little girl.

everyone is talking about getting tanned on the white sand but i just read something in The Week that talks about skin cancer and now im all paranoid.

they said that we should be careful about laying underneath a sun which is just a huge orgy of nuclear gangbangs going on releasing crazy gas and radiation and our sun tans because its sorta freaking out.

they said that the whole sun tan thing came when Somebody Chanel stepped off an airplane in like 1930 or some shit and she looked amazing. as if black people havent been naturally looking amazing since the dawn of man. as if latin people havent looked amazing since the day after the dawn. as if every single pale swedish intern who sends me an 8×10 glossy with a resume doesnt look amazing.

f tans.

f skin cancer.

thank God for bronzers and g strings. i love a lot of you people and i want you to hang around a little longer.

in other news yesterday my man vaine brought over the Zeppelin dvd and blew me away.

there was no band like Zep before or since.

im am born again now to that band.

i will buy a dvd player just because of those discs.

watch me.

azarok + malate mail + friendster

i have been off my game for quite some time now. thats not to say that ive had any game to begin with, but the luck has definitely run out and ive exhausted all the resources to plagiarize from.

coincidentally clipper girl found out that her timeshare in maui had a few extra days on it and invited me out there if i could get a cheap plane ticket.

thanks to the good people at the xbi travel agency i was able to purloin a first class roundtrip dealie that gets my ass out of here late-lunch-ish returning early sunday morning in time for church.

clipper girls cousin will be accompanying me.

shes a gemini and you know how i feel around gemini girls.

i heart them.

a long time ago there was an fbi training session that i was exposed to that was super psychological and emotional and spirtual and newagey and all that wrapped up in one disguised as tank battle game in the middle of death valley.

we learned how to drive and shoot tanks and we even learned a little about ourselves along the way.

one of our instructors was a buddhist monk. zen buddhism. i learned a lot about zen poetry from that man and i appreciate it.

he said that americans, especially american superheros often relied on their reactive skills more than their meditative skills. he suggested that we didnt prepare our minds as well as we had prepared our bodies before we went on our assignments.

so before we climbed into our tanks he had us sit in front of the tank, cross-legged, and think to ourselves what our purpose of entering the tank was going to be.

he asked us to meditate on what experience we wanted to take away from the exercise and what we were willing to give to the process.

lots of us thought it was a load of shit but he could read our minds and bitchslapped us and reprimanded us.

the purpose of entering a tank isnt to blow up every evil motherfucker alive, he told us. each mission has a totally unique desired result and very few assignments in life require the death of our adversaries.

the xbi isnt so crazy about the training i got in that desert but it has stuck with me and when i board the hawaiian airliner and take my first sip of rum n coke i will close my eyes for a few minutes and clear out any distracting thoughts and i will meditate on what i want to accomplish in maui, other than clippergirl’s cousin.

one thing is i want to come back strong to the blog.

the other thing is i want to figure out what i want to be doing professionally. as in soon. as in by this summer or right near the end of it. cuz this xbi stuff, as nice as it is that theyre sending me away ha ha is hurting my soul and it affects my blogging.

and we cant have any of that.

malaho.

totally awesome + greg vaine, baby photographer + moxie

and before you ask, no, thats not punk rock.

not only that but it would make me not want to go to that alleged pizzeria.

im sorry but i do not want my punkers being human billboards for middle of the road consumerism.

do you?

i live in one of the hotbeds of counterculturalism and the punk rockers are pretty scarce, i dont want them dressed up as subway sandwiches, i dont want them selling batteries out of baby carriages, i dont want to see them passing out free samples of breath mints.

i want them where theyre supposed to be: sitting on their asses, with their hands out, in cute little groups, dressing better than i ever will in a million years.

has this planet completely lost its mind?

once again, i must blame the president.

if the economy was better these kids would be getting handouts from the young and olde alike, obviously noone has any codder for me brotha and now look what you have.

why doesnt nike just have him wear a tshirt that says nike on it?

why doesnt someone give him ten bucks to mow their lawn?

why doesnt abecrombie and fuck just get him a cute little office and a window and a laptop and make him vice president of suck my nuts – it’s all equally wrong and ridiculous.

and good pizzerias dont need to advertise – with signs!

no i dont want to buy a slice from some well meaning bleeding heart who is taking the rock right out of punk by bribing the kids with what they so love: attention and greasey cheese.

im not someone who you’d consider a hisser.

sometimes i’ll be at the pictures and a preview of a bad movie will come on and when its over some in the crowd will hiss.

it usually catches me by suprise, but when it happens i can often see their point.

if i passed by a punker with a placard i would not only hiss but id spraypaint sellout on his pants. look how clean that fuckers pants are.

obviously this man dresses this way to attract girls and congratulations, melvin, youve got your girl. but youve sold out on an ideal that goes back to the 20th century. maybe even further.

punk rock is about eating pizza from a dumpster or stealing it from a yuppie, certainly not earning it you tweaking tard.

its all that radiohead youre listening to. makes you soft.

if youre going to sell out, do it in a big way. not for a slice of za, a big cup of mountain dew and a few bucks.

extra cheese on that mothafucka and shit.

you can only sell your soul a few times, punk rockers.

make it count

and quit being so boring.

instapundit + bukkake + 44 days until her 17th birthday + mr. doc searls of santa barbara

which basart reminds us is the anniversary of the day that Tribune Corp. bought the Cubs from the Wrigley family for a paltry $20.5 million back in 1981 (back when $20.5 million was a lot of money), this will be my last post of the day.

but not before we get this in:

fuck you, Tribune Corp.

from your whiny announcers, to weak infielders, to your general ignorance of all things baseball i raise my middle fingers to your ivory towers and i wish monkeypox onto your most private of areas.

you took a national landmark, a local treasure, a sports jewel and you have wiped your dirty ass with it.

yes the cubs are good right now due to some timely hitting and a handful of young pitchers – pitchers that cost you a million or two, tops.

yes you got us the best manager in baseball after the frisco giants showed him to the door. leftovers. good leftovers, but leftovers none the less. still, thank you. you coulda fucked that up. but you didn’t. a gift landed in your lap and you didn’t squash it. nice work.

but you have done very little else for the cubs in the 23 years that you have slumlorded over my favorite team and for that i curse you and the things you hold dear.

i would say more rude things but my mommys on vacation this week and i understand that she might be reading this post especially since she too loves the cubs and wrigley field.

die you motherfuckers, die.

if you want a baseball team to have as a playtoy, go buy the sox. give the Cubs back to the people. the people deserve better.

how can you let a big fat windbag like George Steinbrenner just cherry pick the planet for the latest stars while you sit around counting your gazillions as the Cubs flounder and the little northside kids weep?

why would you want to do that?

alex gonzales and his clutch home runs helped the Cubs start off the season with some great late-inning wins. but in the last month he is barely hitting .214.

want to do something for the city of chicago? trade him for Miguel Tejada. right now. those dumbass A’s will go for it, and guess what, the Yankees have an all-star shortstop And an all-star second baseman, so this will get you half way there. dumbasses.

god i hate you.

while youre at it trade Mark Bellhorn, Kyle Farnsworth, and Juan Cruz for Frank Catalanotto and Kelvim Escobar. the blue jays don’t know what on earth they’re doing and they’ll be shocked that the cubs are giving up two fresh arms for one.

but this is our chance. this is our season. its now or never. especially the way you seem intent on burning out the arms of mark prior and kerry wood.

do this and i wont hate you.

as much.

perfect gallows + mad pony + crispy duck

that im totally against arresting female streakers.

i say let em streak. what could happen? the could get leered at? isnt that what they want?

now male streakers, i say we arrest them. it’s not right.

maybe there should be some on-the-spot public declaration of male streakers. perhaps once the authorities apprehend the man, the cop can put his hand over the man’s head and the audience can either boo or cheer. get enough cheers and the man will be let free to run around until he’s punched by a drunkard.

im not a fan of streakers who are advertising web sites. especially super hot women who plaster the busblog’s address all over their bodies.

57. dawn

being naked and free is one thing, but being a human billboard is another.

save that for nascar racers and bicyclists.

if you want to advertise on yourself and get peoples attention, just wear wet tshirts or see through clothes. duh.

have i told you that im addicted to Friendster?

i didnt know what it was at first, but this weekend i totally got into it and now im hooked.

i have over 69,500 people in my network.

when i pare it down to just hot chicks that live in la who are between 25-35 who want to date men i get 366 young ladies who may or may not know the 13 “friends” that i really do have.

69k people in my network after only a few days of clicking.

very strange. but very cool.

keep your eyes open, i have a feeling that Friendster will take off and do something very interesting. especially since theyre just in their beta.

eric olsen writing about metallica for msnbc + doktor frank + rabbit + new front page

im not sure exactly what sort of summer tour. maybe a book reading one. maybe because i hate book readings and part of life is doing things you hate so that you end up liking them. i think thats what youre supposed to do.

in that case it would be poetry reading tour. maybe with some open mic action.

is there anything worse than open mic poetry?

dueling mimes?

multilevel marketing salespitches delivered by mimes followed by a poetry open mic book reading?

one day i’ll have kids and i wont be able to go on summer tours. maybe i would. maybe i could take the damn kids, but something tells me i wouldnt be able to do that. i guess i would want a wife that would be all for it and would help motivate my ass to stick everyone into the motorhome and follow bob dylan as he went from state fair to state fair.

turns out the hottest chick at work has a boyfriend and when i delivered this news to the fellas on friday they went into their tiny room and just today was i notified that there was white smoke coming from their hideout and a new hottest chick was named.

here are Dylan’s summer tour dates:

July 12: Winter Park, Colo. (Winter Park Resort)

July 13: Casper, Wyo. (Casper Events Center)

July 15: Jackson, Wyo. (Snow King Resort)

July 16: Big Sky, Mon. (Big Sky Resort)

July 17: West Valley City, Utah. (USANA Amphitheater)

July 19: Stateline, Nev. (Harvey’s Lake Tahoe Outdoor Amphitheater)

July 21: Sun Valley, Idaho (Sun Valley Amphitheater)

July 22: Nampa, Idaho (Idaho Center Amphitheater)

July 23: Bend, Ore. (Les Schwab Amphitheater)

July 25: Kelseyville, Calif. (Konocti Harbor Resort & Spa)

July 26: Paso Robles, Calif. (California Mid-State Fair)

July 27: Costa Mesa, Calif. (Pacific Amphitheater)

July 29: Sunrise, Fla. (Office Depot Center)

July 30: Tampa, Fla. (St. Pete Times Forum)

July 31: Atlanta (HiFi Buys Amphitheater)

Aug. 2: Joliet, Ill. (Route 66 Raceway)

Aug. 3: Somerset, Wis. (Float Rite Park Amphitheater)

Aug. 5: Noblesville, Ind. (Verizon Wireless Music Center)

Aug. 6: Columbus, Ohio (Germain Amphitheater)

Aug. 8: Darien Center, N.Y. (Darien Lake Six Flags Performing Arts Center)

Aug. 10: Calverton, N.Y. (Calverton Enterprise Park)

Aug. 21: Gilford, N.H. (Meadowbrook Farm Musical Arts Center)

Aug. 22: Syracuse, N.Y. (New York State Fair)

bing + my shit dont stink + truth laid bear + twixt

i have to work today too but i will get three comp days this week in return. which is good because last night i worked my ass off. almost literally.

had to go to the lbc last night. signal hill, technically.

they sent me because the two other times we went there the agents got terrible food poisoning.

when i first started at the original agency they made me drink a new pepto bismol every day to make my stomach lining stronger. it actually made it weaker. i could barely eat anything. most of college i was 125 lbs and ate a lot of apple sauce and soup. so they transferred me to uc isla vista where possibly i would find something to give me the munchies.

this time they were right.

it was there that i discovered my incredible tolerance to drugs and alcohol, which was when the xbi became interested in me.

when they found out i felt no pain was when they offered up the flying car.

last night i expected to be poisoned in one way or another.

its nothing you can prepare for because you dont want to have an empty stomach and you want them to know that you are being affected by the drug. a wince will do. but then youve got to get it together.

my partner wore a diaper.

they say that you should wear clean underwear because when you die, apparently people judge you depending on the cleanliness of your underwear.

i couldnt care less about that, but i do know that i dont want to die wearing a diaper.

ah vanity, you evil temptress.

after we ate the undercooked chicken stuffed with magic mushrooms the suspects brought out a dusty old bottle of absinthe.

lucky we’ve been practicing.

the absinthe worked as a liquid plummer in the system. it cut a nice path for all the terrible foods to bypass being broken down and ended up right in the spleen where it reacted in a violent way. i didnt want to go to the bathroom because i didnt want them to think i was barfing it up. if you barf they give you stronger, quicker stuff. like bullets.

my partner asked me to pull his finger and winked.

i squirmed a little and felt the drugs rushing through my blood stream like fat kids on a water park slide.

mind over matter

get into a discussion about the bible. talk about talking. have a poetry reading contest. see if they have xbox. ask for a beer. go outside.

right. go outside.

go. outside.

if you go outside they’ll think youre barfing, my partner esped me. and he was right.

he was wearing a full diaper, but he was right. he lit up a camel light and winked at me again. gayboy.

they had an outdoor lit basketball court and i invited them to a game of two on two.

they smiled and accepted the challenge and my partner coughed and gave me a dirty look but hes new what does he know.

i was all, you fellas have some shorts we can borrow, im all about a real game.

they were all, oh sure, we want a real game too.

the dude pointed upstairs and the chick stopped dancing and walked up the spiraling stair case and returned with two pairs of shorts and a selection of throwback nba jerseys. i took the old school dr j kentucky colonels jersey and congratulated them on their fine taste.

i excused myself to the restroom, used the facilities, didnt flush, and changed into my uniform.

they soon saw that i hadnt barfed up their poison and i apologized and flushed.

my partner looked perfect in his seventy sixer barkley jersey, with that fat ass of his.

i messed around and got a triple double.

then we got our information and flew home.

massimo + jason + get your oj

was for me to put my picture on her favorite blog, the busblog.

so there you are honey. i took it while watching ‘my favorite wife’ using a double exposure red eye reduction flash that if you whip around it will capture a bright image like a tv screen.

me and clippergirl met in an alley off the sunset strip.

she was ducking out for a sneek-a-toke and i was pissing on a dumpster.

our eyes met and i told her that if she told me her number that i would remember it, and that i dont remember anything.

she said, dont you want to finish what youre doing first.

i shook, zipped and then i listened.

me and clippergirl have had a pretty good deal going for what, two years now, it seems like a lot longer and maybe it is longer, who knows anymore.

i dont mind that she breaks the rules and dates nba superstars, she doesnt mind when i make echo noises when im kissing below her belly button.

ok, she does mind that. but she knows im kidding.

we kid a lot. i like to kid.

clippergirl and i dont drink very much. we just watch tv and hold hands. she wears sexy clothes and i wear different hats.

the last time we hung out i wore a stove pipe hat on account of the rumor that abe lincoln was gay.

she wore this see thru mini skirt and a little bippy top.

she doesnt eat much which is good for me cuz i eat like a pig.

her brother says that she has never been as happy as right now and i tell him its cuz of the dude shes been dating and he says no, that its me.

shes good at chess and once she starts speaking french its hard to get her to stop.

if she wasnt the wrong sign i would ask her to be my girlfriend but i know better than that.

anyway, happy birthday to my favorite cheerleader.

when you get back from maui i have a nice present for you.

but shes going to have to do more than wear lettuce for me to stop eating meat.

welch and i were at a taqueria the other day and he ordered the goat burrito.

everything is in spanish at midnight tacos on santa monica and vermont so i ask for the pollo burrito no onions and everything usually works out fine.

but welch is so badass that not only did he order the goat burrito but he prounced it in perfect spanish rolling the r’s and everything.

i guess you learn those things when youre living in prague and budapest or married to a superhot frenchwoman.

midnight tacos is famous for their beef tongue burritos which looks like tongue when they pull it out of the sauce with the tongs but once they split it open with the big knife it looks like ground turkey.

people order tounge at a 2:1 ratio over the pollo at this 24 hour secret treasure of east hollywood right above the vermont and santa monica subway stop.

but when welch ordered the goat the normally speedy white dress shirt, bowtie wearing mexican man had to pause and consider his options.

he pulled the goat meat from one of the warming dishes and placed it on the cutting board to chop it up real good.

he prepared the sloppy thick meal and wrapped it up and charged us two fittie each and we went on our way.

we ate and i asked hows the goat and welch said ggggggggggood.

tofu doesnt do that to you pamela.

coyote + fragrant + earth-info + pillows

im sorry what i said earlier. i take it all back.

today was pretty shitty for most of the day. nothing seemed to go right. my commander had me fly in a little early to have a sit down with me. feelings were hurt. etc.

and then cake was delivered and a pretty girl was talked to and nervousness went through me and now i feel 78 again.

hi.

ah, gemini, you month of change. what other crazy amusement park rides of emotions will you put me through?

im going to take the bus home, im going to inspect the job my new maid did, im going to put on my pajamas, im going to drink a bottle of rum, im going to order a pizza, im going to see what tivo stoked me with.

then im going to pass out on my leather couch as the phone rings off the hook and as cheerleaders pound on my door.

then im going to wake up in the wee hours and i will make myself some hot chocolate and update my fantasy baseball teams.

then im going to read the bible and lay myself to sleep.

then im going to wake up and begin the beguine.

friday the thirteenth thanks for letting me appreciate the good times that i do have. without cold we dont appreciate warm. without dark we dont appreciate light.

without twosomes we dont appreciate threesomes.

without turmoil we dont appreciate bliss.

merry christmas, friday.

happy new year.

jumping people + dr. t + bukakke gone wild