anna knows im a sucker for pictures

woke up hurling this morn

she had left me a few texts

i texted i cant right now

she kept pushing me but it was embarrassing

what man vomits from allergies?

was it the meds i took?

the flonase?

the benadryl?

why was i feeling so miserable?

made a bagel, cleaned the toilet

last night i had cleaned the tub

everything has seemed gross to me.

drank some oj, turned on the tv and then i was back at the toilet letting loose. was this the work of the xbi?

crazy thing happened last week. i was at a mcdonalds taking a leak and when i came out this black dude went into this whole story about how he was stranded. his family was in a car on the side of the road and he was looking for some money to call a tow truck blah di blah blah. who knows the truth these days.

i pretty much always will give someone a buck because the bible says we should.

so i give him a buck and he says aw thanks man. and he tries to shake my hand.

i usually have hand sanitizer in my car, but i was out and i had just washed my hands seconds ago, no way was i gonna shake this dudes hand and have dude germs all over as i drove around the world

so i go, no thanks im good.

and i felt a little bad because im generally a nice guy, but come on, i already gave you a buck.

and murphys law, i get sick a few days later anyways.

as anna says, just shows to go ya, its always something.

anna keeps sending me pictures as if

annalast night when i was driving a nice nanny home jeanine called so i put her on speaker

she was telling me that she wasnt coming home and i said fine. when it was over she said ok, i love you!

i replied likewise and when we hung up i explained to my passenger who jeanine was and that she was sleeping on my couch temporarily.

oh how sweet that you still tell each other you love each other.

i said yeah.

the lady told me that where she’s from (el salvador), when a relationship is over there is no i love yous any more.

i said, america is sorta the same, but there are exceptions.

it depends, i told her, on how the relationship was and how it ended.

i told her that when jeanine and i were over we had a breakup party and three bands played.

maria the nanny had a hard time comprehending it.

i said, it was a different time. pre 9/11, pre-internet. we were lucky to have cable tv

she said, but bands? i said yeah, rock n roll was still alive.

i said but there are other exes that i dont care to hear from any more, like anna.

then i told her about anna and then handed her my cell phone and opened the text messages.

almost every day this woman sends you pictures of herself.

si, i said.

pretty girl! she said, with a wink and handed it back.

i said looks are deceiving, as is anna, which is why i dont really respond and why i would have a very hard time trusting her again, which is why it’s best to move on.

maria’s accent was thick, but she did understand everything

and as she got out she said, i love you tony

and winked.

anna doesnt call me a lot but when she does its cuz she knows im sad

annatoday at lunch she called but i didnt pick up. why do girls like the phone so much?!

i was sad because i was promised that if i did something and worked hard for it then id get it.

i didnt get it.

they said i was one percentage point away from getting it.

i had asked all week, am i close, what do i have to do, whats going on, did i make it?

but they waited until lunch today to tell me that i was close but no cigar.

they said you must be disappointed but dont fret we have more of these coming.

i said

then i said

then i was all

then i was like

in the olden days id write and write and complain and bang on the desk and knock over the bats and run into the dugout and throw the helmets onto the field and go to each of the bases and throw them into the outfield

and kick the dirt on the umpire

and call him and his dead relatives names

and run to the outfield and climb the fence and run up the bleachers and run into the scoreboard and climb to the top of the clock

and swan dive down into the street

and die.

but thats kids stuff. im an adult now.

which means i dont make messes on the streets.

i get justice in court.

heres the problem with valentines day

and it happens every year and it sucks. i havent had a girlfriend in years and a certain former tennis star knows this so she will write me like once a month and think that ive got the hots for her and im holding out for her and on february thirteenth she can just call me up and fly into LAX and i will be waiting there with a boombox over my head in the rain and we will make love in the dirt and in the morn i will cook her valentines day breakfast and f her valentines day stylie and do things to her that black men dont do and white boyband boyfriends only do to her on valentines day.

yes anna kournikova im talking to you.

and some years i dont have a girlfriend, proper, but there will be someone who im dating semi regularilly or someone who im dating super regularilly but she doesnt care she makes this the time of year when she checks in to LA and calls her LA boy and for years that boy has been moi.

whats different about this year and people or us weekly or jet or whatever is gonna tell you that anna and her dude are kaput and what kills me is she thinks i dont know she thinks im not down but im down i know things ive got my ear to the train tracks and hell im the community manager of the coolest photo sharing community this side of isla vista – i know the four eleven.

so heres the deal miss russianista, leo tolstoys wettest dream, you dont get to call me on the thirteenth like im just sitting here on my hands waiting for you like im some ken doll in your barbie dreamhouse collecting dust waiting for you to throw me in the passenger side of your pink vette. and youre not going to call me on the twelfth neither, youre going to email me and say that you miss me and you want to act like grownups and not like idiots not like everyone else not like the fakers in melrose place but like two people who like each other who are sick of games who are sick of poses and stances and hiding behind manmade walls and lobbing grenades of nontrusting bullshit at each other.

i will give you twenty four hours to email me and the longer you wait the less im going like it and that means the less cool im gonna be on vday and i’ll tell you another thing, if by this time tomorrow i dont have an email from you im gonna pick an LA girl to wine n dine and you know i know how to do both of those things classy like. i know this town upside and down and i know my way around the curve of the back and if you think you can just fly into the city of angels like its yr town yr nuts cuz its my town yrs is moscow or miami land of coldfronts and cooties and you can have it.

so there you have it.

and when you write me stick to what youre good at, talking about what clothes youre gonna wear.

etienne is off the air + erin wrote the post of the week + krista answers your questions

[ ring ring ] hi tony, are you still mad at me?

yes.

im glad at least that youre talking to me.

im not talking to you, its just hard to have a bloggy dialogue with just one person talking.

im sure you could figure it out. i always thought you were an amazing writer.

flattery, anna, in this case, wont get you anywhere.

well this is a first.

insulting me isnt going to get you anywhere either.

tony, please. lets be adults about this. im in love. you always told me you wanted me to be in love. even if it wasnt with you.

yes but i didnt Mean it.

i asked you to be my boyfriend a million times but you said it wouldnt work out.

i said it wouldnt work out until after you retired from tennis! i didnt say it wouldnt ever work out. and i certainly didnt expect you to go get married just because i wasnt going to be your boyfriend for a few years. now youre probably just going to retire, spread your legs for enrique and crank out a couple hundred cuban kids.

ok, number one, fuck you tony. number two im in love. number three youre disgusting and he isnt even cuban. number four im not retiring any time soon nor am i having any children any time soon.

shove your nors and your mexican has-been right where the sun doesnt shine. which will be difficult with you, anna, cuz ive seen you sunbathe and the sun shines everywhere.

i dont know why you have to be so mean about this. i dont remember you being mean to your other ex girlfriends. infact all you ever do is talk about how much you love them and how great they are and how much you all get along.

they never ran off with some limp wristed busboy with a zit on his cheek.

omg! you dont even know enrique. how can you say these things?

i could ask you the same question.

what question?

i could ask you how you could frigging MARRY someone who you dont even know.

i know him, tony. quit being jealous. and i love him. and what i do in my life is no longer any of your bees wax.

i give it four months.

dont be so cruel! why would you say that? enrique and i will last forever.

no, i give your tennis career four months, then you will retire. i give your fake marriage three months. then you will get pregnant then he will divorce you because he’s gay and knows that he didnt do that to you, and then you will come running to me to be your babys daddy, but im not going to do it.

i hate you tony.

and i hate you anna. youve broken my heart. ive given you all the freedom in the world and you just spit in my face.

listen to you “i let you…”

i Did let you. every other motherfucker would have blown a gasket with you galavanting around. dating this guy, being in that guy’s video. i was never jealous i never talked shit, in fact all i ever did was support you, especially when you were down (which has been most of your career) and especially during your latest injuries and most especially during that penthouse thing.

i knew you would use all that against me.

no one is using anything against you. i was there for you and what did you do to reward me, you got married to a one hit wonder. to some dudes son. why didnt you just marry george bush.

george bush is married, tony.

so youre saying you… forget it. its over. dont ever call me again. dont talk to me. dont email. dont write. keep the carrier pigeons, keep the cds, keep everything.

i see you have taken me off your blog thing.

and i have rubbed you from my heart.

i dont care what you say, i will continue to be your friend no matter what. even though youre being so mean to me. i love you and i always will, tony.

i hope he comes out on your honeymoon.

hello, this is our honeymoon and he has come, but not out. thank you.

only cuz hes thinking of rupaul.

[click]

flagrant the agent + treacher + gunge

when anna calls it always disturbs me, somehow.

I think it’s her accent. I love accents, but I’ve never gotten used to hers. It sounds like she’s always mad at me. What does she have to be mad at me for?

“We won the doubles championship in Melbourne today,” she informed me last night at, oh, three a.m. pacific time.

“Doubles are for girls,” I said.

“Why can’t you ever support the things that I do?” she whined.

“I do, I talk about you all the time. I think you really can win a singles tourney, that’s why I tease you.”

“Yeah, well it hurts. You could at least congratulate me.”

“Congratulations, Anna, princess of St. Petersburg.”

“I’m from Moscow. I mean, I don’t write you and complain that you have a ‘BusBlog’ and you never write about riding the bus anymore!” she said.

Two mexican kids were on the subway this morning. One of the kids was about five years old, the other was maybe one years old.

Anna doesn’t like it when I grammar bad. She says it confuses her since she’s trying to iron out her English. But I can’t help it. I have this weird thing where I mimic whoever I’m listening to. I try to be a good listener, but in fact I’m a terrible listener.

The older Mexican kid was licking the metal pole on the subway car, the one that everyone holds on to as the train is jerking and making it’s way through the city.

The younger kid was idolizing his older brother. The younger kid was sitting on his mama’s lap. He had a cute little pacifier in his mouth. Some of my hippy friends who have kids don’t believe in the pacifier. They call it a plug.

“I’m not putting a plug in my child’s mouth,” they say.

The mexican kid with the plug was watching intently as his brother licked the pole and then the little kid playfully punched the pole. His older brother kept licking.

When I least expected it, the baby thrust his head at the pole in order to lick it too. His plug hit the pole squarely, as did his cute little mexican kid babyhead. His brother backed away. The baby didnt cry.

A woman sitting next to me, holding her newborn said something in Mexican to the young mother. The older brother went back to licking the pole. The baby went back to watching his brother. Then he went back to punching the pole.

Then my stop arrived and I exited and walked up the stairs.

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