she’s 21 now. my but does time fly.

her friends picked her up and took her to several bars and they drank and in the morning they had crepes and saw “chicago”. she was upset that none of her friends from her drew barrymore web site said happy birthday to her and i appeared into a dream of hers and told her it was cuz all of her friends were jealous of her popularity and assumed that popular people didnt need to be told happy birthday to.

she sobbed and said that she isnt as popular as people think and she loves being told happy birthday to.

so i told her that i would put her email address on my blog so that people could wish her happy birthday.

daisyprincess4@aol.com

my weekend in hell was pretty good, considering.

in hell its normal to add “considering” at the end of most of your sentences.

i had a beautiful dream that lots of my friends came over to my old apartment and we barbequed and watched the raiders trounce the jets. and we drank and ate and chris brought over brownies and jeanine and kim tried to see who could be skinnier and karisa came over with her pal liz and some dog peed in someones purse and people laughed but then got sad cuz there was a lot of pee, i mean a lot.

then a hot 21 year old girl came over in my dream and watched High School Reunion with me and Best In Show on Tivo and we fell asleep on the couch like little monkeys all tangled up and then we woke up and made beautiful lust.

but then, alas, i arose from my dark cave this morning with no beautiful young girl going down on me, no soft bed to recline in, no remote controlled operated stereo system to drown out the low moans, no towel to wipe off with, no howard stern to drive to work with.

all i had was a little flow of lava to block the entrance to the community shower of slime and a cold of artic wind to welcome me to the working week, and a terribly sore back to remind me that i am old and in a bad place.

and it’s only monday.

gweilo diaries

you cant quit you cant stop you cant hang your self.

or shoot yourself.

or become anorexic

or racist or fat or shoot everyone in your school.

or jump into the la brea tar pits

or lead people to an old resume and beg people to hire you – keeping in mind that the new email address is tony@tonypierce.com

or course.

you cant kill yourself.

you cant kill anyone else.

and you cant even cry because in hell everyone is looking at you waiting to laugh at you if you cry.

you just have to deal.

and if you deal they’ll figure something out the next day.

and something worse the day after.

but they’ll wait until the worst

to bust out the worst.

see, theyve been doing this way longer than you.

bitchen

two guys took me into a tiny little room and tried to prove that i was gay.

you’re gay.

no im not.

yes you are.

no im not.

you were a poetry major.

i did it to be near girls.

you were good at poems.

i was good at everything.

gay guys are good at everything.

not knowing about sports.

what about costas?

costas was gay?

you tell us.

fellas, im not gay.

do you like art?

everyone likes art!

do you like quiche?

do you like quiche?

shut up and tell us you’re gay.

fine, youre gay.

did you go to a lot of foreign films?

just to impress the ladies

maybe he’s bi.

are you bi?

not even a little.

would you make out with a guy to get to have sex with the hottest chick in the world?

hmmmm, let me think. maybe.

ok youre gay.

making out doesnt make you gay.

yes it does.

well if you do it for like an hour, maybe.

even for five minutes.

then i guess im not gay cuz i havent even done it for 5 minutes.

4 minutes?

nope.

3 minutes?

is that an invite?

youre so gay.

you two ever go to Wendys?

of course.

theres a salad bar at Wendys, you two ever went up there and gave the man a few bucks to eat at the salad bar?

nope.

me neither. always wanted a burger of some sort, and i always wanted pussy whenever i got hard.

theres a special place in Hell for the gays.

then i guess im not special.

got that right, sweetheart.

and then they kissed me.

the nirvana message board

about our life.

how did you like your life?

shorter than i thought.

you lived to 109 didnt you?

no, not really.

you lied in your blog?

is everyone insane down here?

how many girls did you make love to?

15, 16. whatever the average was.

how many girls did you kiss?

25?

you dont remember?

all i can remember are major league baseball players’ careers and nba players’ names. and even thats a little fuzzy.

what was your favorite movie?

the blues brothers.

very interesting. why?

it had all the elements of a great movie: people broke into song, there were dance routines, car chases, scores of cop cars being wrecked, nazis being outwitted, comedy, drama, carrie fischer with a machine gun painting her nails, ray charles shooting a gun at a little kid, and a shot of wrigley field.

did you have any children?

nope.

sad about that?

nope.

why not

ahh, i halfassed at everything else in life, i probably woulda halfassed at that too.

what would you like to have accomplished that you didnt before you died?

i would have liked to have seen the Cubs win the world series.

what, are you a comedian?

pardon me?

what was your major in college?

poetry.

are you gay?

nope.

are you sure

yep.

hmmm, step this way.

tiny little penis

but not everything works on Earth time, and not everything has to start on Mondays or at the begining of the month.

so there.

hell makes you a little pissy sometimes. sorry. makes me a little pissy sometimes.

had this hot chick over the cave last night (not pictured). first she was late cuz she was hanging out with her exboyfriend, i was all thinking, fuck man!

thankfully i tivoed joe millionaire which is risky down here cuz it doesnt always work, or the power will go out, or some shit will happen. you never know. my advice, prepare for the worst.

so she comes over, she looks cute. i had a hard time cooling off my angry feelings, plus it’s hot as fuck down here all of a sudden, at like all the time. the wind is even hot. hot and gives you shivers. and its a wet heat. you sweat but it doesnt cool you. you sweat and it only makes you want a shower. but all they have here are golden showers. and those are hot. not sexy hot. 98.6 degrees hot.

i dont mind stinking. im not here to impress any one. what are the girls gonna do, write me off for eternity? there’ll be more.

we watch the tv show. its good. we both have to wake up early so we go to bed.

then we go to the chair.

then we go to the wall.

then we go to the ceiling.

then we go to sleep.

then at 530am her dumbass ex calls! wakes us up. i was all, wtf, woman!

but it’s hell and i suppose that i should just get used to this shit but its hard to. i dont want to get used to anything bad. but death, just like life, is all about making adjustments, i suppose. especially when it comes to expectations. and in a perfect world i would have expected that i would be the only soul in her world that morning, but i dont even know where my soul is any more.

all i know it’s hot here.

and i have a headache.

and if people dont start leaving comments im gonna get pissed off.

madpony

theres an auction going on around here.

a celebration, to ring in the new year.

it’s only up for a week.

check out the photo essay that explains it all, then go to the auction. then bid, BID!

but they stopped because the customer service was so horrible. so we’re back to rabbit ears. the only channel that comes in any good is fox which is cool because i get to see the simpsons and tonight i get to see joe millionaire.

this week though is Ashleys Birthday week.

the Daisy Princess turns 21 on Saturday.

want to buy her stuff? it’s cool with me, just go here, something i made last year.

ashley is more than just a hot chick, she’s a sensation. shes an inspiration. being in hell makes me miss her even more because a lot of the girls here wear their hair in a bun so that it wont catch fire.

one super nice thing about ashley is that whenever i wanted her hair down she would just undo her rubberband and shake her head all glamourously and her flowing golden locks would fall like as if in a fairy tale.

little known fact about h-e- double pogo sticks, if someone prays for you you can hear it. and ashley said the cutest little prayer for me the other day, she said that she thought that my last two photo essays were really good and she missed me and that made me happy.

a nice prayer like that kills an evil deed in hell.

i think it was her kind words that paved the way for those kickass playoff games this weekend, but who knows.

if i was back on earth, what would i do with a completely legal ashley princess?

maybe take her to a champagne brunch?

lil lapdance at the forty-deuce?

six pack of miller cans under the overpass in east la?

bottle of night train wrapped in a brown paper bag in an alley off crenshaw?

the correct answer, as always, is e.) all of the above.

one of the times we broke up for good

and most people think it’s just a marketing ploy to sell white kobe and shaq jerseys but it’s not. its because variety is the spice of life.

when i was in the orientation meeting everyone had to stand up and introduce themselves.

hi, my name is tony. i was an undercover superhero in hollywood, california, earth, and now im here.

everyone booed.

down here that means hi.

it also means boo.

what were my hobbies?

i liked model planes, horticulture and reading the Bible.

they booed louder.

tony was also a very popular blogger.

this made them stop booing.

and slowly

they started to laugh.

hysterically.

one guy was crying he was laughing so much.

soon someone knocked at the door to see what was happening, someone told the guy and they pointed at me. then they both started laughing and patting each other on the back.

then i started laughing cuz it was pretty funny.

then everyone settled down.

then some lady chuckled.

then another lady gafawwed.

a dude snorted.

then everyone laughed again.

i laughed, farted, then laughed harder.

someone tried to ask me a question, but busted out laughing.

then everyone joined in again.

a fat guy turned blue and wheezed while catching his breath, his buddy opened his shirt a little and waved some air at him. he took out his asthma thing and blew some air in his lungs and stopped looking blue.

then he coughed.

then he went back to laughing.

then he ripped a little fart.

then everyone started laughing all over again.

raymi the minx

so its hard to keep up on the goings ons around the web, but this morning i was catching up with sara’s site and she said that her gentleman friend dan’s birthday was the other day. from the darkests depths may i wish my man dan a happy 44th. bottoms up, hippies!

sara shared with the world some of her juvenilia and i dug through my permanent record and found this old chestnut from my freshman year of college. its not as good as saras when she was twelve, but it was one of my most well-received stories, as i believe i got a b minus on it.

The Greatest Basketball Player Who Ever Lived

There was a boy who lived on a hill far away from everyone but there were trees near his home and the sun shined there nearly everyday. He had a dog and a cat and a cow and chickens and some pigs that he’d wake up some mornings and see turned into bacon for him to eat. He liked bacon. The trees grew oranges and the cow made milk and from some of the trees he made a basketball hoop so he could enjoy himself, but as the boy turned into a man he realised that he wanted other pleasure than that he got from his animal friends and his trees and sun and basketball so he went down the hill and met girls.

He liked girls because they smelled better than his animal friends and his basketball and some of the girls were even prettier than the sun in the morning and when those girls passed him by he’d try not to stare but as soon as they passed he’d look and watch, like he did the sun, as they’d sink below the horizon.

But the boy who was now a man had not been trained correctly, he soon discovered. To befriend these girls he had to act differently than he did with his animal friends, trees and basketball. You see with them, all he had to do was be kind to them, feed them, and tell them that he was glad that he knew them, and they’d grow and smile and rub up against him. He tried this with some of these girls and the results frustrated him. Some of the girls immediately were repulsed by him and would have nothing to do with him. Other girls were attracted to his sincerity and honesty but soon left him for “more challenging” men – like those in the armed forces. Our boy who was now a man was confused.

A friend of his told him that most girls liked to be told what to do – to be man handled – to be controled, ignored, and then suppressed. This sort of game-playing bored the man and he lost all interest in these nice smelling animals who called themselves women but acted like cats and were called girls.

So he went back up the hill with a new possession – a television.

This helped his situation a little bit – but not for long because on the television, quite frequently were pictures of very beautiful girls who’d grown up to be women. They had no smell but they certainly seemed pleasant enough and as out hero looked at his chickens and cows and trees he took his basketball outside and tried not to think of women but he was not successful.

That night he wondered if he’d ever find a girl who’d turned into a woman – and not a cat – who’d like for him to take her places and hug her and kiss her and not treat her like a pig who’d one day be his bacon – even though he liked bacon. The television told him yes but everything below the hill yelled no and he believed it. This is the story of the greated basketball player who ever lived.

The End