i forgot that the rest of the globe didnt have today off, so i was suprised to see bling write about going to work this morning.

its so funny every morning when i wake up and take the subway and then the bus i want to keep riding to the beach and these last mornings some one has wanted to wake and bake my ass and then they leave before noon and youd think that would be the perfect launch to get on the bus and just ride it like me and chris used to do up in frisco, but no.

ive been taking naps, accepting phone calls, fixing up grits and bacon and eggs, watching hbo, did all the dishes, emptied my pockets of all my riches, tempted but didnt call any bitches.

made an offensive photo essay if you read it the wrong way.

at least i didnt call anyone gay.

you know what ive learned watching all this tv this weekend, theres not a lot on tv. i saw this thing on national geographic about inside the Pentagon, it gave me a nice afternoon nap. woke up to some dumbass on mtv. why isnt ed and dre back on yo mtv raps? who are we kidding?

right now i want to have a hot tub and i want to invite someone over. i dont care who. someone fun.

i want there to be sparklers around the hot tub. i want there to be good music playing from inside the house. i want all the neighbors to say whos that fool think he is in that hot tub with those goofy swim trunks.

karisa was going to have a little pool party today but decided she wanted to run like a taurus through the hollywood hills and if i was chasing her i would pick up running but thankfully shes the wrong sign and i could just lay on the leather and flip through whatever.

after the hot tub i would go to my midnight recording studio and summon the ghost of bob dylan and i would have him record that 50 cent single, the first one. it worked for johnny cash.

then id make springsteen take the bus over here and together we would put together a nebraska part two cuz nebraska part one is over 20 years old if you can believe that cuz born in the usa was ’84 and we dont need another born in the usa but we definately need another nebraska.

two weeks with the boss and i swear to you there would be another nebraska. we would just write the busses. maybe a limo to get it all out, but ride the streets boss. tell me about this family’s life, tell me about this mans job, tell me about that kids future. look into the palm of the hand of the everyman and rhyme and blow that harp and make me cry this time cuz i didnt even bother with that last one.

i would tell bruce that he doesnt have a nebraska in him. i would tell him that neil young wipes his ass and out comes a nebraska. i would tell him that dylan could write one on a ukelele and if he told me to fuck off id say fuck off yourself anyone can write born to run when theyre young, write a nebraska cuz i ask ya.

tenorman + riley dog + accordian guy

didnt plan it that way but there were these austrailian hitchhikers that i met at the vons. three of them got their paths crossed with some dirty acid.

i have a soft spot for travelers since ive travelled here and there on occassion and i know how vulnerable you can be.

took them to the castle, sat em on the couch, turned on the slow jams, talked about elvis.

doesnt matter what country youre from, your age, your political disposition, race, height, youre going to have an opinion about the king of rock and roll, especially if im leading the proceedings.

the girls thought that elvis was just ok but me and the fella were on the side of theres only one king, and there will only be one.

then we flipped on the tv looking for elvis movies but instead we stopped at the womens college softball world series.

now, i have a big tv.

thirty five inch (diagonal) picture tube made in japan by the mistubishi company. sold to me by two gay guys who complained that it was too big.

and i had successfully mellowed out these four attractive australian girls by talking about elvis presley and allowing them the freedom to smoke their marijuana. yes i know it is illegal, but i thought i would turn a blind eye since they are foreigners and in very bad shape.

and then we saw berkeley bear first baseman veronica nelson on my glorious television.

and then we saw veronica nelson smack a home run

in the college world series

live from oklahoma city, where i am sure mad pony kristin was in attendence cuz she is perfect in nearly every other way.

and i turned to my guests and they were in tears.

it was a beautiful site. these people didnt really even know the rules of baseball, but they understood the triumph of the moment.

or they were laughing at her.

it was hard to tell.

it appeared that i had gotten a contact high.

so with my mind racing i made a big ass photo essay, for your asses.

the most smoking nineteen year old usc iranian girl i know.

that birthday girl

name three things better than two blonde girls in harley outfits going down on you as you drink a beer from a bottle with led zeppelin going after taking a nice pull from a four footer?

i think what happened was they wanted to go mainstream and be considered professional.

i tried to tell them that hustler has this huge tower in beverly hills. its not the biggest thing in beverly hills, but its a big thing, and its in beverly hills.

i tried to tell them that there are a lot of buildings in the world, build yours on who you are, and if you are known for great pictures or great articles or great questions then build from that dont take away from that.

what would have happened if babe ruth tried not to hit so many home runs?

the bean counters would have told you that he wouldnt have struck out as much.

of all of babes beans, whats the number of beans we remember the most

714.

f the bean counters f the strike outs f the mainstream

the mainstream wears ties. the mainstream supports bush. the mainstream doesnt mean i do. the mainstream uses aol.

black webmaster are you kneeling at the feet of aol?

if thats the case i dont want my black ass on your cover.

you know how hard it is to read my shit on aol? you think thats an accident?

well, since you havent done it in a while, im going to show you a bunch of pictures that i took this month that i didnt do anything with.

its called a wordless photoessay.

it’s not incredible, but its better than playing things safe all the time.

(answers: 1. one who actually wants to be there 2. the cubs still being in first place after a fourteen-game road trip 3. a job where i could be creative)

moxie gets done by luke + gnome-girl + get your oj on

sometimes theyd get three or four people on the line and just rattle off questions non stop that would end up into this sort of territory and subsequent response:

q. how big is your dick

a. ask your momma

q. zeppelin one or two

a. which one has your time is gonna come

q. one

a. then one.

q. pc or mac

a. i dont need to have my pc be cute.

q. how do you ask girls out

a. usually by email.

q. what do you say?

a. i say lets have a date.

q. its just that easy?

a. sometimes its easier, some times all i have to say is lets

q. why arent you rich

a. why arent you tall

q. who will be the first black president

a. tiger woods, as a republican, then me.

q. as a democrat?

a. i was thinking it would be nice to bring back the whigs.

q. damn

a. old school, bitch.

q. what makes you think you’d get the nomination?

see, they asked good questions.

my favorite neighborhood movie house only takes cash.

i want to ask them why. but i think i know why.

my next question would be, why dont you put in an atm across the street so you wouldnt look like youre gauging.

gorilla mask + dysfunktional + crispy duck

shes the one going to law school, so shes my idol.

theres nothing better than a smart girl.

two smart girls maybe.

i read laura a long time ago and for some reason we never talked till now.

the other night we talked about some blogs that we read.

all i have to say is you people have stories to tell and pretty blogs, i wish you’d write in them.

i hate that our friends and family, or the fear about friends and family keep people from telling their stories.

something must be done.

this is the first time in mankind that people from all over the world, completely different people, can tell each other what its like to live where they live and do the things that they do.

why hold back?

xbi called me this morning. apologized for calling on our company vacation. gnarly shit going down in the valley, where its been super hot.

i didnt want to go to the super hot. and i didnt go to sleep last night till five.

karisa still had my flying car so i took a cab into the office

los angeles this morning was glorious, people of earth. warm, clear, smooth, sweet.

he didnt say nothing to me and i didnt say nothing to him.

the jazz coming out of the boom box on the passengers front seat sounded like monk i could barely hear it behind the bullet proof glass.

when i was a kid i rode in a car by a current pro baseball player and i sat in the back seat and i thought i wonder if anyone knows who this guy is driving, that they just cheered for him a few hours ago.

this morning i thought i wonder if this taxi driver knows that what hes saying on his cell phone right now is being heard by one of the few people who could fuck his shit up in a major way.

cops say that the bad guys are all asleep on a saturday morning.

sometimes theyre driving cabs totally sober.

sometimes theyre in the back seat totally hung.

laurita + richard giles + the ward

but today i was woken up by a phone call from my favorite magazine, Black Webmaster.

the woman on the other end said that i was being nominated as best black blogger and she wanted to set up an interview with me.

we ended up doing the interview right there, why not.

she asked me if i had ever been in any rock bands. i said yes. i told her about this band i was in called the burglars.

we’d book a band called something dumb like White Ivory and we’d have four of our friends dress all emo and start playing the first few seconds of their first song, then we’d run onstage with some burly dudes who’d knock White Ivory down on the ground, put their hands behind their backs and pull them off stage where we, the Burglars, would run onstage in black turtlenecks and ski masks and play 15 two-minute punk songs in 20 minutes and then run off while stealing the equipment.

then she asked me about why i lie so much in my blog.

i told her that there is a natural defense to keep ones private affairs private, and if you’re doing something as ridiculous as

and then i couldn’t go on any more.

im no good at interviews. i don’t want to sound dumber than usual i told her.

she invited me to relax. classy chick.

then she asked me what i would like on the cover if i won.

i said that i would just want a picture of my butt on the cover, nude.

that way i could make a tshirt of the magazine cover and it would say kiss my black ass, im on the cover of my favorite magazine.

she asked me what camera i use.

i said, canon powershot s45, but don’t blame them, im still learning how to use it.

she asked what computer i have.

i said a piece of shit 400 mhz p2, win 2k, but im upgrading soon.

she asked me what i would be doing if i wasn’t a black webmaster.

i told her that i would be growing medical marijuana for the sick, wherever it is that they do that. rarely do you get to do something that so literally helps people during their worst suffering and probable death.

she asked me if i had a green thumb.

i took a picture of my little houseplants that were doing very well.

she asked me if i had ever tried to grow pot, i told her no, that i saw friends get busted for that in college and it was pretty harrowing because i was ironically having a bad trip on acid at the time.

she asked me again how much on my blog was true.

i told her nothing.

she asked if it was true that three of my ex girlfriends were at the tsar show last week?

i said yeah jeanine aj and chris, i should of taken a picture.

she asked why i thought i still have good relationships with my ex’s

i told her that its my belief that they keep me around as a low water mark. if they think some guy they’re doing is a loser, they’ll compare him to me and feel better about things if he’s not worse.

she asked if it was true that i had given jeanine a good long kiss in the middle of spaceland that night.

i said yes, but its a rare thing. once every lunar eclipse. but our love is very strong.

she asked if i had been to jeanines new beachside apartment yet.

i said no.

she said why not.

i reminded her that i don’t have a car.

she said, the winner of black webmaster this year gets free gas for a year.

blue cad + perfect + woof + <33 kate <33

im sorry to hear that you want to quit making movies.

i heard the french said that your new movie was the worst one at cannes.

let me make you a tshirt that says fuck cannes.

what the fuck did cannes ever do for anyone anyway? bunch of stuck up foreigners trying to be all classy when they aint so damn classy, and what do they know about art?

buffalo ’66 is one of my all time favorite movies. top 25 definately.

you, fucker, you.

i saw buffalo ’66 on a sunny day in west la in the summertime after seeing a bunch of hollywood blockbusters that had all the money talent hype teamwork and hotchicks and still they werent shit.

you had christina ricci at her plumpest looking better than ever. angelica houstons best role ever. ever.

fuck cannes and their toplessness and their booing.

why arent they booing ben affleck like every ten minutes?

you know what cannes likes? woody allen’s worst movies.

in a hundred years you’ll be making bad 90s woody allen movies maybe, if you dont retire cuz of a bunch of snail eating boychasers, but now is the time to get back at them, not quit.

rename that shit “worst film at cannes” and everyone will go. and they’ll buy that tshirt im making you.

let em boo. motherfuckers. boo boo boo.

everyone who’s ever done anything has gotten booed, why not you rich boy.

remember when prince opened for the stones at the la collesium and got booed. did he quit or did he slide on a pair of high heeled boots and make a little movie called purple rain?

the devil wants you to quit.

people who call soccer football.

remember Gummo, top 25 too. remember julian donkeyboy? bottom 25. so what. who cares. you dont think harmony has another Gummo in him? odds say he doesnt but odds said he didnt have a Gummo in him either, so fuck the odds, fuck cannes fuck the haters and fuck you if you quit, quitter.

give me a fucking purple rain, whiney weinstein.

this is a world filled with bullshit that gets rewarded left and right: justin timberlake, bob costas, george bush, david schwimmer, ticketmaster, drug czars, jay leno, kroq, rick dees, the catholic church, nike, the fcc, the mpaa, tobacco execs, alan greenspan, osama bin laden, and chip carey.

roman polanski fucked a 14 yr old girl in the ass. in the ass, bro, and what does he get, he gets to live in france and win the academy award because time passed and he pandered and made a holocaust flick. wtf is that?

wake me when roman makes a film about fucking kids in the ass and getting away with it, cuz anyone can make a holocaust movie.

keep making movies.

guys named vincent never did well in france anyhow, so fuck em.

your pal,

tony

dc ’66

enjoy the codeine + zada + fat nathan

if your fingers smell of nineteen yr old danish pussy?

our girl, just like many have, asked me for the millionth time how old i am today and today i told her and today she put her skirt back on, found her bra and blouse, put them back on, and left my apartment probably never to return again.

i knew that if i told her the truth it would be over.

murphys law.

probably because i really liked her.

sux cuz this morning i was giddy from last night, thankful that i didnt have to work, and totally excited to see the foreign cheerleader coach who was still in town indefinately due to one of her students being incarcerated for shoplifting at target.

everything in this is true.

i dont know what to think of this girl.

so cute. doesnt really talk to me, but some of the things she says are great.

seemed to like to make out but

anyhow, there we were naked and suddenly she wants to stop because its killing her that she doesnt know my age.

it’s just a number.

56. broome

i tell that to the people at work who freak at the aged girls i go out with, sometimes. agists i scream.

is it the girl’s fault that she’s legal?

is it my fault that i was born in the seventeenth century?

i dont hold it against karisa that she has a funny accent and webbed toes, i dont hold it against chris that shes got huge bazooms and only seven channels on her tv, i dont hold it against anna that she hasnt won a tournament, and they dont hold it against me that im so damn good looking.

you win some and lose some. this spring ive lost more than normal, but ive also won more than normal too, i suppose.

who knows.

chris came over to cheer me up. she kissed me on the lips and told me i was handsome.

she said my hair looks cute.

then she drove us to kfc, then went on a date.

laurita cheered me up too and withstood all the pictures i showed her, then she went out on the town.

i think im getting hbo free.

i think i’ll watch it.

laurita + beyond writing + i heart bunnie