i said but im already on lots of drugs. and she leaned over my shoulder and looked at my email.

i said excuse me.

she said, fine, mr honesty what do you have to hide in your email box?

i said, first of all, its not mr honesty, its mr nothing in here is true.

and she said all you men are alike. i said i know very few men, and i would certainly hesitate before i called myself one.

she said, what on earth are you saying?

i said i nearly started crying the other day, thats not very manly. she said what on earth?

i said, if i had a car i would have.

she said, so what did you do?

i said, i rented a car.

a left-handed sharpshooter, carlisa (far left) went to a famous florida university, full scholarship to be their shooting guard.

now an up n coming fashion designer, a business she founded with her younger sister, carlisa is poised to take over the world.

i first met her at a pick-up game in venice beach where i was dominating in ’98. this one guy said, you’re good but you cant beat me and my sister. turned out that i could beat him and his sister, only problem was carlisa wasnt his sister and they cheated and won in a landslide and took me for ten bucks.

my last ten bucks.

unfortunately the bet was for $100 and as the guy held me, carlisa got to take 100 shots at my thin frame.

good thing she hits like a girl.

happy birthday carlisa!

if he thinks someone is stealing the signs he might put two fingers down and adjust his mask, the adjustment means “fuck what i threw down, its gonna be a fastball.”

some catchers just throw down any fingers so the pitcher needs to count how many pumps the catcher made, if he throws down fingers just once its a fastball, twice its a curve.

me and jeanine do the same thing on the phone because its tapped due to some counterintelligence that we havent all sorted out yet.

we do it with “i love yous.” lets say we need to rendevous at the Rustic. well, thats everyones favorite place so that is one exchange of “i love you’s”

me: i love you

she: i love you too, see you next week.

that means, “fine, see you at the rustic ASAP.”

if she wants to meet at The Drawing Room across the street from the Rustic, that would be the second option so she’ll throw in another “i love you” at the end of the convo.

me: thanks for calling, pretty girl, i love you.

she: i love you too.

me: ok, bye.

she: i love you a lot.

me: i love you a lot too, bye.

and so on.

just like in baseball, you can wipe off a sign real easy by touching your cheek or rubbing your left leg with your right hand.

me and jeanine do it the simple way by sarcasticly inserting a “but secretly i hate you,” added with a laugh.

yesterday she called and wanted to meet me on the wesssside at my favorite bar over there Del’s Saloon.

but since i dont live anywhere near there any more, it takes a lot of “pumps” to get it out.

me: ok, sexy secretary. i love you.

she: right on nice boy, i love you too.

me: ok bye.

she: but i really love you.

me: but i really love you too.

she: as in love love, but not in the way that you’re hoping, but i love you.

me: yes, i love you in a filthy way.

she: your filthy way is sweet, thats why i love you.

me: ok bye.

she: but i love you anyway.

me: thats a whole lotta love. i love you too.

she: like whitney said when bobby brought her home the oregon buds, i will always love you.

me: yeah me too.

she: ok, i love you.

me: ok, see you at the gospel brunch sunday at the house of blues.

she: definately! but be there on time this time, mister.

me: you were the one who was late.

she: hehehe yeah, i know.

that means, get your ass over to Del’s pronto.

when we got there she told me that she loved it when i put pictures of monkeys on my site. which wasnt code for nothing.

but this is: hey jeanine, check out this crazy canadian who loves, i mean loves fountains— thanks sks.

and thanks a. beam for letting me know how many times i scooped Time’s ass. well, shit, id hope so.

when our very own Anna Kournikova had to withdraw from her doubles match due to injury after she lost in straight sets to Spain’s Ruano Pascual 6-3, 6-2.

Earlier in the week Venus Williams went down from a wrist injury, Martina Hingis dropped out from a leg problem, and now our girl Anna.

If ever there was a clue as to why pro tennis players start young and retire young, look no further than these three athletes who have been forced to succumb to the grueling tennis tour.

Kournikova’s injury is still being eclipsed by news surrounding her reputed Penthouse photos. On Tuesday U.S. District Court Judge Denny Chin ordered that Penthouse stop delivering additional copies of the magazine and he blocked the posting of the photographs on the magazine’s Web site. They can still be viewed on this site, probably because I never said they were Anna.

Anna wore a blue top and matching blue shorts when she lost to Pascual and became injured.

dawn and marc interview each other and theres nothing that gets me to read an article on the web faster than if im pretty sure they might talk about me or my friends.

thankfully, they said nice things.

this guy i work with turned me on to “the amazing race” and today they had a 2 hour special season finale.

all i gotta say: amazing.

this crazy show had me cheering and laughing and slapping my knee.

i learned that it is good to cast incredibly unlikeable people into modern gameshows like this because it is so much fun to root against them and curse when they are winning.

doug goodstein was executive producer of “the howard stern show” and personal manager of Hank the Drunken Angry Dwarf. everyone thought he was crazy to leave the howard stern show this year to produce the amazing race.

ashley has several auctions on ebay. i just have one, two tickets to elvis costello at ucla.

today is tori spellings twenty eighth birthday. buy them for her!

this very webpage interviewed a young canadian living in texas named Leah who had a cool webpage called “spit on a stranger.”

she still does, and Blogger decided on Friday to name her site Blog of Note.

not long ago i wrote about Rabbit and sure enough she wound up as the Blog of Note weeks afterwards.

So Blogger, here’s all the other things I wrote about last May, maybe you want to dig around there for some more material…while leaving me out of the mix.

For those of you who don’t remember, last year I started employment at my work and OJ interviewed me and we discussed Anna Kournikova well before her nude? pictures came out.

Last year there were birthday tributes to both Mary and Karisa.

There were FBI stories, pics of friends, amy got married, I gave much love to my moms, and Buffy got slayed.

Oh, and how could I forget, I met Ashley for the first time.

And speaking of her, if we are to believe the photograph is of her, Miss Irvine 2002 now has a tattoo thanks to her bed buddy, Rocko.

Pretty much the same stuff we cover now, we covered then.

No wonder Blogger isnt interested in me.

i know, i know, i cant go one day without slobberring over my friends, but if you had friends like these you’d be doing the same damn thing, so step.

greg and i knew each other in the dorms. he was quiet. little did i know that he spoke with his guitar and his paint brush, but i’d learn that later.

molli and i crossed paths in school too, i dont know how, though, that whole 7 years was just a pleasant blurry buzz but i remember that she was not quiet but always had a smile and new shitloads about music, so she got my respect immediately.

molli tells about their romance beautifully in her blog, it’s sticky sweet so bring a toothbrush for afterwards, but i cannot believe that it was three years ago that we were all invited to Frisco for the best country-rock wedding of all time.

i danced and danced and danced and danced. something i never do. and i wasnt the only one. we were all very happy that two perfect people who were even more perfect together were doing exactly what they should have been doing.

one reason that i moved into Layne’s old pad was cuz i could be closer to these cool kids, but alas, they moved to a spectacular home, but im stoked that we still get to see each other a lot.

happy anniversary greg and molli, im sure there are many more to come.

p.s. dont tell anyone but i think shes got a bun in the oven.

and that makes me happy, even though i disagree.

but this morning im going to do something that i believe has never been done before.

now, im no runway model, or rugged pretty boy musician, but somehow i can find dates here in LA.

i’ve asked girls out in person, on the phone, via email– ive even had success passing notes.

so today im going to ask a girl out via my Blog.

and i will do it without even naming her name.

watch:

dear single girl,

we’ve met each other. we’ve swapped some emails. we’ve had some drinks.

the last email i wrote weeks ago i said that i’d hang out with you and you never wrote back.

probably shy.

that’s okay, i like shy girls.

but i dont think youre so shy.

this is what i want, i want to go out with you one night soon. as in very soon.

all you have to do is email me back with your phone number and i’ll ask you properly.

you know it will be fun.

tony

no, not you Fidel, or you Jimmy, i have no problems with either of you, in fact you’re both showing a lot of chutzpah for being men about this whole thing and getting it together, but neither of you has flowed $40 or more into the Snoop Fund like SP did so…

That’s right, last night SP became a Stone Pimp and I was more than pleasantly surprised because I haven’t been hyping the Fund in a while and it’s nice to know that you dont have to constantly be holding your hand out to get someone else’s hard-earned samolians.

Thank you SP.

I’m speechless.

i nearly shit. no one knows about that line except my boss, so i thought i was getting fired.

it was him. “tony! the instapundit linked you!!!!”

i said, “no way.”

he said, “way! way way way!”

i said, “for what?”

he said, “for your stupid weezer thing.”

i said, “i think this is the first time that ive been linked by him since i auctioned off something ridiculous.”

my boss said, “why do you think he doesn’t link you?”

i said, “i think it’s cuz i dont write enough.”

my boss said, “yeah, and [click]”

it was my call waiting. i excused myself. who on Earth was calling my hot line?

“collect call from Rome,” the automated voice said. i dont pay the bills on the phone so i accepted the call, although i was about to pity the fool for not using 1800COLLECT.

“Tony I VON I VON!”

i would recognize that voice anywhere. it was anna. my love.

“of course you won, baby. i always said you would win.”

it helped that she wasnt facing Venus Williams who had dropped out, but i kept that to myself.

“oh it was fantastic tony, everything i hit was right. my shots were like lazers, my serves were perfect. oh, i wish you could have seen it.”

“trust me anna, we all wish we could see it.” i said. “what was the score?”

“6-1 4-6 6-1” she yelled.

God it was good to hear those upper registers.

“Anna you fucking killed her.”

“I know I know I know!” she said.

“hey did you hear that that st. louis jeweler said that he thought those pictures were of you because of diamater of your nipples?”

“whaaaat?”

“oh shit, anna i gotta go, my boss is on the other line.”

“but…”

“im so sorry, congratulations, kid, but i gotta go. im sorry, i’ll talk to you tonight.”

“hey!”

“this is the red phone, baby, you know that.”

“fine.”

“ok, bye.”

“hey!” she pouted. “dont you love me?”

“yes, i love you anna. nice work!”

“caio, babeee.”