Author Archives: tony

tomorrow’s a big day at the beach house

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First at 1:30pm the Bears take on the Philadelphia Eagles. Now a lot of people are starting to believe in the Bears, but if you’re a Bear fan you believe in nothing. Still, I’m going to be very excited. I do think the Bears have what it takes (freaky magic) to beat Donnovan McNabb and the Eagles, but so much depends on the the A-Train, good ole #35 Anthony Thomas. The Bears defense is mighty, but if they can establish a running game, it will be a pleasant afternoon for me and my neighbors on the malibu shore.

at sunset we get the Raiders.

the Raiders are the most talented team in the NFL. they’re also the most schitzo. anything can happen saturday night. if jerry rice starts to feel mortal he might catch 5 touchdowns. if he thinks he has a few more years left in him he might catch nothing but a cold in the winter wonderland of new england. it should be a beautiful game. i love big games when it’s snowing. especially next to a roaring fire in southern california.

i dont thank God enough in this Blog, but Good Lord, thank you for this season. My two favorite teams have marched into the playoffs looking strong, looking good, looking tough and fun and powerful and mighty. and I thank you for that. and I’ll be so thankful if i get to see them play next weekend.

amen.

home / quick, buy me a car / dont look back

today marks the eigth anniversary of the Northridge earthquake

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a good reader informs me. He wrote at my heytony@hotmail.com account, which is cool. However if you want your email on the site, try mailbag @tonypierce.com. Not every letter will be put up, but this way I know which emails are meant to be read and which dont mind being posted.

So yes, the Northridge quake. It was loud. It was crazy. I was living with Greg and Jeff and the chimney fell down and my cds fell down and a few books fell down.

Good came out of that quake, however. We roommates formed a band called Chopper One so that we wouldnt fight due to all the nervous energy going on with the after-shocks, etc. We only played one show at our pad but it was a success and really a success a few years later when the guy who wrote Weezer’s “My Name is Jonas” stole our name to form his band. I bought their cd so I could say that I have a Chopper One cd, but I dont think i ever listened to it. I do shit like that.

Back then I really wanted Jeanine to be my girlfriend again. Now I really want Chris to be my girlfriend again and the biggest lesson that I learned was quit looking back and appreciate all the craziness that you have in front of you.

If I had to do it all over again, I think I would have accepted the job at the porno company, or I would have gone to Prauge when Jeff did, even though it wasnt the same any more. But now that I think of it, I’m glad I didnt do either because I would have easilly fallen in love with one of those hot porn stars and married one of them, or done the same with one of the hotter Czech girls if I had gone thataway.

Fortunately I stayed in the States, moved to Frisco, and was turned on to the Web by one Mr. Marc Brown, esq.

christina ricci lost some weight,

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christina riccibleached her hair and put on a grass skirt and thinks that i’ll like her more, but it’s impossible. i liked her fat, skinny, middle, whatever.

There’s something troubled in her eyes and I’m not someone who tries to fix people, i just want to have a good time.

Anna writes and writes from Australia she says “hey! why dont you ever post my doubles scores. Martina and I won again yesterday and I bet you wont report that.”

And it’s true, women’s doubles tennis is like female mud wrestling. Who cares about the score?

This blog, this year, is dedicated to Anna’s quest to win a singles tourney. Her success in doubles interests me as much as her success on the dancefloor. I suppose it would matter to me if I was there, but I wasnt, so…

Checked out Lord of the Rings the other night at my favorite movie theatre but they sorta screwed me because they dont take credit cards. Cash only.

The theatre has leg room for days as if they took out every other row of seats. They have giant busts of Greecian women that glow as the film plays and Ashley calls it creepy but I think it’s cool. But when movies cost $18 for two tickets you really oughtta get with the program. Plus, if people want to rob some place, the best place to rob is an establishment that collects thousands of dollars in cash in a very short period of time and has kids making minimum wage and no security officers.

So I said, “it’s cool we’ll walk over to the grocery store and get some cash…”

And Ashley said, “There will be no we. YOU will RUN to the ATM and RUN back here.”

Ever told a rabid dog to sit right before it tries to bite you? Sometimes it works.

And sometimes after it realizes it has sat it gets up and bites you in the ass.

Eye on the ball, Anna.

according to the BBC news, ’80s star Adam Ant is being held in a looney bin

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after being drunk and weilding a fake gun. I have lived over 108 years and in one of my old jobs i pumped gas at a station in Beverly Hills. One night an old fashioned convertible t-bird rolled in with Adam Ant in the back seat.

I pumped the gas and said, “hey Adam, can I get an autograph?”

The man driving the car said, “Adam, he’s talking to you.”

I said, “I really liked the drums when you were with the Ants.”

He said, “yeah, drums. Yeah. me too.”

Later I discovered that most of those drums were performed by none other than tonypierce.com 2001 Man of the Year Phil Collins!

Anyhow, Adam, thanks for the autograph, I mailed it immediately to Sonja Melcher, the girl who turned me on to cool music in high school, bands like Duran Duran, the Sex Pistols, the Cure, U2 and Madness. Hope you get out of the nut house soon.

Little known fact: In 1993 two nights after seeing Nirvana live at the Forum, I took Jeanine to see Duran + Villiage People + Adam Ant at the Forum on New Years Eve. All of the bands were great.

anna lost yesterday 6-2, 7-5

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anna kournikovaand she called sobbing and i said hush hush, and she said tell me a story, anything. tell me about a foreign land. somewhere other than Australia.

so i told her about the City by the Bay. i told her of San Francisco. i talked about this place and that one, and about the baths in the mission where all the ladies go and lots of lesbians. she said please anything but lesbians.

i apologized. they’ve been beating her ass.

so i told her about the coffee shop that got hit by the Muni bus and only one fellow lost his life. i told her how it rains there and cleans everything up.

and then i told her about my favorite day in the whole year Throw Out Your Shit Day where you could throw whatever you wanted out on your curb.

This excited the young Russian.

“You say you can throw out anything? Cardboard?”

Yes, cardboard.

“Wood? Plywood? Two-by-fours with nails on the ends?”

Especially wood with nails in them. But yes all sorts of woods.

Clothes? Rags? Rusty pots and pans?”

Anything, Anna, anything.

I told her how the streets were lined with people’s shit, how people would browse other people’s shit and how the bums pushed their carts and made messes of the neatly stacked piles. And Anna cooed.

She asked me if I ever picked through other people’s shit.

Of course, my dear.

She said, thank you for telling me of this day.

I said, any time, now go hit balls. And she blew her nose and thanked me again and hung up the phone.

the first time i ever voted i voted against a guy

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because i thought he would be too wimpy to represent me and my country was in ’84. back then we worried about the red menace, which at that time was the USSR, and i thought if that lil dweeb was across the table from one of those bushy eyebrowed Soviet podium pounders, america would be bombed immediately out of principle.

so i voted for ronald regan.

four years later i was presented with a fellow named Michael Dukakis and again i thought about the negotiating table and wimpiness and i voted for the former director of the CIA an eight year Vice President and i was terribly wrong, once again.

I blame Dukakis for this Bush too. Of course I do.

on Friday I wanted to do a chart about how much in common this son of an oil millionaire has with the Saudi son of an oil milionare but it was Ashley’s birthday and on Sunday our President nearly expired thanks to a pretzel.

Let me say that I think if he had died that way I would have considered that the coolest thing to ever happen in the entire world. Dont lie, you would have too. No one likes admitting these things, but the truth is, we have to go some way and finally George Bush would have done something interesting and original.

From what I have been told, he was choking on the pretzel, his brain was not getting enough oxygen and he fell over and the jolt his body took on impact with the ground jarred the pretzel out of his throat.

So if George had been laying his head down on his desk, like he normally does, he would have been an ex-President.

Damn you, gravity, you right-wing tool.

home / happy birthday ashley / email / you know you want to

what sort of ex-boyfriend the lad would make

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It's Serena's title is he the jealous type who will remain jealous even after he has moved on to other babes, or will he be perfect, like me for example?

chris came over last night for the “Survivor” finale and i grilled her some steaks, prepared huge baked potatoes, boiled some carrots, and heated up a small bowl of my navy bean pork rib stew. chris is an angel who looks more beautiful with each day and it was great to have her over at my place and it was a pretty terrific episode of my favorite tv show (next to the Simpsons) and for the life of me i dont know why the old lady thought that the soccer player would be less competition for her than the punk rocker from Santa Cruz, but it’s all good.

and i know all you chicks say that there’s more to your boyfriends than looks, but sometimes i seriously doubt it. birthday girl didnt call me all night and still hasnt called me which wouldnt be all that bad but she was being driven by her ex-bf through the desert last night – the very desert that was home to 40 mph winds through the passes. bro was supposed to pick her up at ten am and 2:11pm she wrote me at work saying that he was “on the way,” yet when i arrived home there was a phone message from her at 6pm saying that he still hadnt arrived.

i called her new roommate down in newport at midnight who said that she had talked to ashley around 8 and they still hadnt left and she said that she tried to call her on bro’s cell phone around 11pm and there was no reception.

im sure everything is ok, but when i went to bed last night at 4am i still hadnt received a call, which is weird as hell because ashley calls me at least three times a day even if i tell her to take it easy. and part of me says that she maybe wanted to call but didnt because she didnt want to make bro jealous cuz hes a pussy ass bitch like that and would be upset even though his fingers smell of another.

so fellas, let me talk to you. jealousy is not your friend. it doesnt make you seem cooler, or make you look like you love the girl more. it makes you look like a wuss. you look weak. you are weak. jealousy is an emotion that should be saved for fictional tales of the past – especially if you left the girl who you are now green because of. if your ex expects you at 10am for your emotional journey of change, be there at 9:30 with donuts and daisies. reputation goes a long way and when you’re barely out of highschool you have no clue how much tail there is out there waiting for you, but let me tell you, there’s more than you can ever imagine, so move on and drive your ex safely to where she wants to be and get on with your so-called life.

and if she wants to call someone, let her, and dont pout like a bitch and if you want to practice being a man, hand her your crappy cell phone so that people know that she and her shit are not strewn across I-15 hundreds of feet from a flipped-over rusty pick-up truck.

after Survivor, Chris and I screened an academy copy of “Moulin Rouge” which was a zillion times better than i ever expected. i wanted to get right up to my tv to savor all the details, but i was stuffed and we swore we only were going to watch a few minutes of it as it was evidence for a case i had helped break where some pacific palisades teens had stolen dozens of screening copies of all the best films of the year from their parents who worked in the biz and were mass-duplicating them and selling them outside of highschools throughout the southland from, get this, the back of their shiny new sport utility vehicles!

if everything works out i get to see the birthday girl tomorrow night.

just in time for the Raiders game.

somebody left Hem’s “Garden of Eden”

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ernest hemingway

at the beach house and ive been reading it on my commutes to work.

I had been reading the paper, but I stopped paying for it and even though they kept delivering it, there is a small part of me that is still a Christian and I don’t want to go to Hell over the friggin LA Times. Plus, books are just so much more convenient in a crowded bus or a walk or while waiting for my ship to come in.

It’s a crazy book. Hopeless romantic and yet bitterly cynical. Elements of heavy drinking and even possible drug use(!).

“Take good care of her.”

“Is that all you’ve got to tell me?”

“One small thing more: the get’s no good.”

“There isn’t any get yet.”

“It’s kinder to shoot the get.”

“Kinder?”

“Better.”

p. 65, Scribner paperback edition.

The fact that this convo takes place in Madrid near the Prado warms my heart because I had such a wonderful time there not too long ago with my irreplaceable friends and my sexy ex.

But back to the book. I miss Hem. I know I talk shit about him and only talk about Buk, but only because very few ever write about Buk and writing about Hem is like writing about how great “Citizen Kane” is.

“Garden of Eden” was his last novel. Unfinished. Narcissistic. Sexy as hell. and Dirty. I don’t know what’s going on with the chick wanting to cut her hair off and get tanned to nearly black and pretending to be a boy – even in bed. And requesting that her young husband pretend to be a girl. But it’s nice to see Hem even more twisted than ever. What a sick little puppy you were, Papa. So many lines to read between in his books. As in soooooooooooo many.

And who doesn’t love how he drinks. He really does have so much class. I don’t know why, when I was younger I thought that it was more heroic to champion the Everyman and his beer and scoff the young rich white American abroad who’d know all about wines and champagne and schnapps and all that, but now that im older i appreciate the educated. Maybe cuz I know of the subtleties a bit now, and appreciate them. And not because I have any class, I don’t. It’s just all part of the grand dance and the romance.

I will be returning to Madrid again one day and I totally appreciate the fact that Hem took his time when he was in Europe and wrote about it the way he did because unlike the US that changes every 5-7 years, Europe hardly ever changes. Probably cuz their workers are so lazy. So it’s great to read about a journey taken 80 years ago and the same art is on the same walls and the same Fondas are still trying to gyp the American tourists out of their anchovies on the little bread plates.

And it’s really nice to know that hot girls are treated exactly the same way today as they were back then, regardless of what the country is called.

But sweetest to my heart, it’s great to know that the undying need to get fucked up has been flowing through the veins of Americans and others forever.

Ashley made me feel a hundred this morn when she said that she got her first kiss 5 years ago.

“That was a quarter of my life ago,” she said.

And then took a picture in front of her father’s bookshelf, who apparently likes to crack open a book or two himself.

Hopefully he only collects those Chinese swords.

That’s right, I am a hundred years old.

rode the elevator with TSK this morn. it’s been a while. neither of us looked that amazing so early. i lie, i looked sweet as hell. ha, i wish.

one of the things that i promised to myself that i would do more of this year on this site is AOL IM interview people. i emailed a nice young girl whose story you should know if you havent known already and she emailed me back. but when i got home to actually chat with her she was online but blew me off. maybe she read a few of my latest entries and got scared off. win some, lose some.

so today ashley is going to drive through the desert with her ex-boyfriend who will deliver her to her newly purchased condo in newport – not irvine as earlier misreported. she cracked me up this morning by calling me at 7am complaining of insomnia cuz she cant wait to get here. she said she stalked me and looked at all my metafilter posts because i told her that some guy wrote that he — whatever.

it’s bagel day, i got nothing to say, other than props to Kid Rock for busting with the belt buckle. apparently the chicks dig it.