and instead of sending letters of condolence, people send me pictures of their girlfriend’s boobs, dumbass song lyrics, arguements in favor of the ridiculously dull “Jeepers Creepers”, and insults about my loyalty and devotion to my favorite band, Tsar.

But what takes the cake is when people try to knock this site for being self-centered and/or conceited. Um, it’s called tonypierce.com, genius. it is supposed to be about me. in reality, i’d say only 60% of what i write about is even about me or my real life. maybe less. i do that so that idiots like those who write to complain wont realize what miserable lives they have in comparison to my urban bliss.

can i help it if i have the best friends in the world, live in a sweet pad, own a flying car, get taken to dinner by fashion models, and have a perfectly amazing wondertool?

no, i can’t. and i do all of you nay-sayers a huge benefit by keeping most of that to myself and only letting you in on some of the finer portions of my generous bounty: the best being Tsar.

That band is the epitome and amalgom of everything that I was fortunate enough to stumble across when I transfered into UC Isla Vista and if they had only signed to a label who knew how to launch new bands, you’d had heard their debut record thousands of times by now.

But life isn’t fair.

And every time I gaze at one of my many full-length mirrors and flex, I smile and say those very same words.

Dead at 39

fuck fuck FUCK

It took a short man to teach us that life, too, is short.

kids, go out and make out with that shy little hottie in the corner – you never know. she might die one day soon. or move. or die.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

10am app’t today – just to see if my AIDS test says I have AIDS. Nurse tells me that if i get in there at 945 i will get out fast. 945, im there. 10, doc isnt there. 1030 doc isnt there and the waiting room is getting full. 11 doc shows up. He says, I’m healthy as a bull – a healthy one. So I say, doc, my back is killing me – which is sorta true. Let me have some Vicodins. He says, those are a narcotic and you dont want to risk it, heres something else and writes me a prescription. Says that if they dont do the trick then he’ll get me Vicodin. Since he doesn’t tell me how to close-caption, I dont tell him what pills to dispense.

Get to work at noon. Rode my bike. It’s hot out. Bad idea. Fax my prescription to the Ralph’s so I dont have to wait my whole lunch break for their asses. Follow up with a call verifying that fax made it the two blocks. It did. Arrive at Ralphs and the lady says “need doctor aproval.” I say, isnt that what the prescription is for? She says, “no, inusrance company. this verrrry expensive medicine.” I say, so I’ll be back at the end of the day, then, ok? she says, “no, take three four day” I nearly cried right there in the Ralphs. I ask her if she can call the doc and have him prescribe me Vicodin since it’s not on the “approve-first list” she says, “oh no, that good medicine, go see Doctor, ask for sample. Get a handful.

Little does she know that my doctor is a practicing Satanist and refuses to be open at a reasonable time when I can visit him.

Or does she?

that’ll teach me for not having a begining, middle or ending before i decided that yes, i was going to write something that also required a lot of reading, research and graphic skillz. thank God all those undocumented workers i got locked up in my dungeon were taught Illustrator on their raft on the way over here.

aw damn, paragraph three has a line in it that should be in paragraph two! no wonder you people think im a stoner. when i find the dirty little nite editor responsible for this nonsense im gonna beat him silly!

but i had a really fun night on friday even though my back hurt like a bitch, even though i could barely walk. had some really great food, drugs, booze, company, surprise guests. kissed this girl goodnite and she just laid back in her seat and later i was thinking did that mean she wanted me to invite her in? my esp is no good with her. still, i floated to sleep cuz the lord continues to bless my skinny ass.

so saturday i made a look back at summer. i should have cropped out the pink border from my web browser after i did the screen shots, but i didnt know what i was going to do with those little pictures and it sorta tells a story in it’s own. i mean look at those pictures and you’ll see a bunch of pictures and stories about ashley and when she first came to my apartment she changed my computer so that theres pink everywhere and ive never bothered to change it back. but it symbolizes the truth, which is that some girls are hard to shake off. life could be worse.

anyway, Spin used to be my favorite magazine, and during its peak it used to have this column called “Dear Elvis” where people would ask the King advice and it was so good that I always wanted to do something along those lines. While finding pictures of Tom Green, the bigamist, not Drew’s hubby, i ran across tons of web sites that either vehemently defend him or bitterly denounce him. Oddly those who defended him were Muslim sites from outside the U.S. while those against him were generally Mormons from Utah who wanted to make it clear that Bigamy has not been part of their religion since the 19th century.

It seemed to me that what got Green in hot water, and eventually in jail, was not that he married too often, but that his last wife was only 14 and he knocked her up, and that he was trying to get Welfare benefits for his shenanigans. As for the Mormons, it seems to me that it’s one thing to make your own Bible, but not even the Kings James Bible ever renounces Bigamy. Sure, the stories of Solomon’s 1,000 wives are not so idyllic when you realize that his downfall was similar to Green’s (trying to get busy with a teen girl before he properly married her), but never did the Good Book ever say that you couldn’t commit to more than one woman. The Lord implies that we can barely get it right with one person, but if you wanna give it a shot, go for it. Just remember, you can’t get a divorce. So why the Mormons would reject that dare is beyond me. Seems like the only thing they ever did right was bring that lifestyle to the States. And, of course, provide Jim McMahon with an exciting collegiate career.

which totally made me happy. i was a little nervous that she was on that plane with Aaliyah since i hadn’t seen her in about a week.

So, here’s today’s gripe with my local transit authority. L.A. has a subway, which I ride, which really only has one legit transfer stop: Wilshire at Vermont. This is where the North Hollywood – Union Station line intersects the Wilshire/Western – Union Station line. If both trains are running on time, the North Hollywood train arrives at Wilshire/Vermont about 3 minutes before the Wilshire/Western train. But life isn’t perfect, so this doesn’t always happen. What happened today, like many days, is that the Wilshire/Western train arrives exactly at the same time as the North Hollywood train, making it impossible to transfer trains; meaning that all the people have to wait a good 5-7 minutes for the next North Hollywood train.

My question to the MTA: since you only have one stinking transfer point on your whole damn line, why don’t you have the one train conductor tell the other train conductor, “dude, wait two fucking minutes, im running a tad late.” I mean, what’s your freaking hurry to make it to Wilshire/Normandie and then Wilshire/Western since you’re just going to take a ten minute break anyhow, since that is the end of the line?

The MTA has a web page where you can give them these golden tips. Perhaps you, too, would like to offer them up some advice.

for serial killers.

Rule #1: After you murder your wife and kids, don’t “hide” in your mom’s backyard. That’s so, like, juvenile.

Rule #2: I know it’s hard to resist the charm of Citrus Heights, but don’t “hide” in the same town that you committed you’re heinous crimes.

Rule #3: If you’re going to carry around a map of a city where you’re more likely to get away with murder, think Modesto.

but weren’t you 29 last year?

for the first time since high school. the best part was the steam room. i sweated so quickly, like after only 3 minutes i was soaking. i loved feeling the room drop little pellets of water on me. i love the heat. i thought it would help relax my suddenly awake muscles but on the way to the bus stop i could barely run after the big red Rapid. so i had to wait for another one.

took it to la cieneaga, transfered to an orange one for about three blocks and went to a press screening of Jeepers Creepers, which by entertainment law, i cannot talk about till tomorrow.

spent the night with rene. shes got such a hot bod. some people wish they could teach the world to sing, i wish i could teach hot chicks to appreciate their hot bods. it was good to rest my sore back on her ultra soft bed. and thank God she had a vicodin.

took the 21 down Santa Monica to 18th Street and walked up to Wilshire. dont tell anyone but i miss Santa Monica like alot alot. took my DNA test which consisted of a polaroid, a fingerprint, and four swabs of my saliva from inside my mouth (fascinating!). and then took the Rapid back to work. Not many Rapid stops in Santa Monica, so i hoofed it about a mile cuz i just cant stand still at bus stops, even with a healing lower back. thank God she had one more vicocin this morn.

always be good to your ex’s cuz one day they will be very good to you.

this nice girl asked where i put that thing about canadians legalizing pot for terminally ill people. ah, it’s here. And then Gary Condit wrote in to ask me where I put the thing about he and i interviewing each other the other day and it’s here.

one day i’ll get it together and make a proper index, so in the meantime i appreciate your patience, and dont be shy to write me and ask. if it’s during the day you can write me at work: tpierce@eentertainment.com and maybe i’ll know off the top of my head. otherwise you can just email me at dumbass@tonypierce.com where one of my soon-to-be leaving summer interns will ignore it.

tonight im going to the press screening of “Jeepers Creepers” with my sexy ex. i was thinking about writing a review, but i guess i’ll just wait for Layne to write his and then i’ll steal it and send it to BusinessWeek. i always wanted to get published there, now i see why i never was: i use my own material.