Anti abandons the internet.

it's finally over, thank fucking god.

Friday, January 31, 2003

i was reading over my posts about my dad... i thought that i should point out at least ONE semi-redeeming quality. so know an installment of "why your dad isn't as cool as my dad". ready? go.

after the AVN convention in 99 (yes the porno convention, woo-hoo!) being held at the Venetion Convention Hall, i met up with pops at the circle bar in the hard rock. his on-his-sixth-wife-ass had a pack of smokin blondies all around him (keep in mind this man prides himself on being "6'6'', bald, and ugly..."), and he was trying to toss one my way. thanks! he was buying everyone drinks, tipping like a mad man, crackin the best jokes. but whatever with all that..

then som bartender sorta ignored anti sr. and he flips out, and is all, "FUCKYOU MOTHERFUCKER!!!" and flips him off to boot. so i guess the punk ass bartender calls up security, because suddenly all the hot little blonde bride's-maids had been replaced with bouncer-ish looking guys with black coats, and electronic ear pieces.

they're all, "sire, we understand there's a problem with you and one of the bartenders. you don't have to leave the casino, but you have to leave this bar."

i was like, "yeah dad, it's cool, no big whup, let's move"

my dad completely ignores my bitch ass, and looks this fucker in the eyes, and says "that bartender is full of SHIT. i have clients here, i'm entertaining. there is NO WAY some little piece of SHIT bartender is going toy with MY life. he actually said fuck you to me, because he said i didn't leave him a big enough tip!"

the whole time the dude's are trying to butt in, with shit like, "sir--" but my dad goes on to tell them how if they are of men of honor then they need to at least ask the OTHER bartender if he was a good guy (the one who'd been getting tipped $20's all night).

so they did, we got to stay, and i was impressed. the guy is a good liar, i'm serious. and then i said, "dad, i didn't bring any weed..." so he hands me an empty pack of marb red, with a joint inside.

that night rocked. i've loved V.O. on the rocks ever since....

here's the only pic of him i could find
nice shorts, loser!

i swear it. traffic hates my guts.

it's like, "oh you are late? tough shit asshole" and then proceeds to turn all lights red, and flood the 405 with tacky-cell-phone talkers driving all up in my way.

OR my favorite... there's the hottie in the red veedub micorbus that you got to roll down her window and smile at that red light, but traffic says, "oh yeah? you think she's cute?" and somehow shoves all these turning-right people in her lane in front of her... so i gotta try and drive all slow to let her catchup, but it's too late. traffic wins. i lose.

it has other annoying games it plays with me too, like... Whatever lane i change into turns into brake-light-city immediately, or wich ever car i get behind slows down at least 10 MPH. listen people, if you're not tailgating the person in front of you. you're driving too goddam slow!

last night on my journey home from the martini bar in beverly hills, i realized, i hate martini's. and more importantly... i really hate olives. another thing, who is the genius that thought, "let's give drunk people drinks in glasses that are impossible NOT to spill !" ? i should have told goldstien to meet me there, cuz me and these chicks i only met from some superbowl thing, had a great time, although his ass is kinda broke.

and yesterday... jamie and i were tripping out on this shit. it's like internet crack, and you'll be hooked.

Thursday, January 30, 2003


right now my apartment feels like my prison. it puts a spell on me where i can't bear to move for anything in the whole world. it makes me wait until all the food places are closed (at least the ones that deliver). i keep my shoes on, my jacket on, and i stare into space like i'm deep in thought. i wish.

it doesn't want to let me go. My stupid ass studio apartment even keeps me from going to my car to grab my smokes.

just like how a thermos keeps hot shit hot, and cold shit cold... it keeps an awake anti up, and a sleeping anti in a coma. and whenever i'm not home, i'm drawn to it, and it pulls me back in with it's gravitational pull. and if i were independently wealthy, this would all just be fine with me.

i've had this spell cast on me before, in other apartments. where i'd peek between the horizontal blinds at the sunlight, and just wallow in the filthy feeling of 0.00% motivation that the curse gives me. sometimes i can't shake it for days.

a friend told me that this apartment doesn't feel as though anyone lives here. it feels like i'm sorta staying for a while, like someone's guest. i didn't get what she meant then, and i'm not going to pretend i do now. it just seemed relevant, and oddly accurate.

i should see if moving all the furniture around helps,

and i totally would.
but i'm cursed.

Wednesday, January 29, 2003

oh... just so everyone can feel better. in the end my dad lost all his money, his company, his friends, and his family. you can't just murder your child's pet and think the gods will be all, "no prob, bob" whatta shitbag.

this weekend the viking is gonna put me in charge of homeless people sign walkers, and have me stalk all of huntington beach with signs for this car event thing. wich is good, because i have been doing SHIT for work at my real job. i keep showing up late, doing nothing, and then hanging around long enough to get a free lunch. but for some reason bossman said today he thinks i do good work. who has HE been talking to?

so guess what this is?! yes it's true, anti eats lunch with co-workers. (if they're buying!!)
my only complaint... my office needs to hire more drinkers so i don't feel like a loser for being the only one going full throttle to the bottle.

wanna hear another episode of "why your dad is better than my dad?" of course... who wouldn't? this story is from a million years ago, i just remembered it RIGHT NOW for some random reason...

so i get this kitten when i was a kid. he came pre-named meep, because that was the sound he made when he tried to meow. he was kickass. smart as fuck. and totally hated. all the neighbors complained that my cat was fucking their cats, and beating up their dogs. the little shit made me proud. and he seemed to hate all the same people i hated. he once peed all over my dad's bed while some whore my dad was married to at the time was sleeping in it (wife #4 or #5... who can keep up?). talk about your kodak moments! damn! i'm talkin PUDDLES of piss, maybe even some poo

but unfortunately, after not long at all... i was too busy putting a towel under my door to hide pot smoke than to aknowledge meep's existence. i stopped feeding him, and threw away his litter box, because the way i saw it, "he didn't use that shit anyways...". he would kill his own food, take shits where ever he pleased, and fuck you if you were a hot feline slut.

my dad begged me to find another home for the cat. he said, "anti, meep has got to go..." and i'd convince him why he was wrong everytime. but then one day, he mentioned that this family in Palos Verdes was really nice, and they heard all about meep, and wanted him for their kids to play with. i somehow felt selfish keeping my cool-as-fuck cat that i had outgrown from a loving family that would give him attention. looking back, i don't know how on earth i trusted this scoundrel of a man, Anti Senior.

he took my cat, and had it killed.

the only reason i know is because dickface told my sister the whole story. thanks, asshole... that's JUST what dad's are for...

yah i know. other dad's suck worse than my cancer of a dad. but who cares?

Monday, January 27, 2003

i shouldn't take naps in my truck anymore. it's gross, because i never remember to roll down the windows, so it gets all hot, and i turn into this big sweaty mess. totally soaked. i should at LEAST park in the shade.

all weekend my friends were in Santa Cruz. but i realized i like being stranded by my friends, because it makes me have to get creative and improvise more, and as a result, having the best time ever.
the superbowl was a perfect excuse for crashing parties...
cuz like, everyone's having one.
just creep on in, grab a shot, a beer, snag some bean dip, and high five the nearest stranger-- but at the last second, pull your hand away and say, "HAHA, thought you had a friend... sucker..." and poof, you're secured. i like lieing lots at strangers parties too, because there's nobody to say, "nuh uhhhh.... anti, your're so full of shit"
they just believe. or so my drunk ass thought.

but i dunno. it was also like a me-in-rare-form kinda thing. i was at the perfect level of intoxication. drunk enough to be brave with girls, sober enough to still be charming. good thing i boycotted the tequilla. met a new crew of hotties girls that i'll be seeing more of... so i guess football IS good for something.
fuck.. who knew?!

Sunday, January 26, 2003

don't ask me why dreddy and our chauffeur are dressed like pirates, i was wondering the same thing.

That is IT. i'm only smoking cigarettes and pot from now on. no random pills, and actually, no drugs that are the color white. or beige. at all. just thinking about it makes me wanna barf.

hollywood turns me into such a hollywierdo. i hate feeling like i'm one of those so-so-so-obviously-high-coke-mouth-moving-too-much types. like when you see certian celebs on leno chewing a stick of gum like a diesel-engine.

and i keep having disturbing dreams. that's sorta wierd because for years and years, i haven't been able to remember shit about my dreams... now they'll all too real feeling, and i wake up super pissed. why do the realistic ones have to be so lame? why couldn't i be fucking your friend's hot little sister?

Friday, January 24, 2003


what can be stupider than leaving a long ass stupid song on your out-going voicemail message? nothing. i mean, i don't have ALLL day, i just wanna say, "call me back, fucker" and i have to sit through this SONG that i don't like, and am extremely irritated with.

or if i'm atta bar alone, or something, i'll text message people i know who have cell phones(trying to look busy)... but then the problem is that they don't how the fuck text messaging works, so they don't ever read what i sent them.

there's tacky-talkers too. you know... people who talk like they're trying to drown out the sound of a jack-hammer, and who talk like that in the restaurant, at your table, even though you're giving them dirty looks. go outside asstard, learn some manners. people even do this in the movie theater... fuckin turn that shit off!!! yet another reason why i don't see movies.

then there's the people who never answer their cell phone. "oh i keep it set to silent in my purse, in a drawer, in a desk, blah blah blah", or "i leave that thing in my car".. What the Fuck ?! i need to ask your dumbass something right now.

why can't everyone be as perfect as i am?

Thursday, January 23, 2003

technically i work from home. that's how it's supposed to go, at least. but i've been driving my ass down to the LBC everyday. and i hate it there. there's like five computers all jammed up close together annoyingly. and i somehow always get stuck sitting next to jerk-face-with-the-same-name-as-me, Anti Calhoun.... and i can't stand that dumbass. i heard a rumor that he said i sabotaged a file he typed.
WHAT?! i fuckin wish
i'm gonna cough all over his keyboard next time he isn't looking. or his food. payback's a bitch. maybe i'll wipe a booger on his breifcase.

some people hate having their picture taken. they get all mad. and for some reason, that makes taking their picture sorta fun. it feels like a scavenger hunt, and when you get the pump your fist in the air, and shout, "YES!!"

that's how i felt when i got this one.

gotcha amy #3. (there's only two amy's, but calling her "amy #2" seems sorta fucked)

Wednesday, January 22, 2003

holy shit! this is the funniest shit ever. found it on this guy's blog. lots of funny shit there.

i feel unusually relaxed right now... i hope it lasts. i haven't paid my rent this month, and have been avoiding my landlord (who lives across the street). but he's pretty salt-water-stupid (like all surfers), and the fact that he hasn't said anything, or taped a note on my door, makes me think i should pretend i DID pay it. i always pay in cash so... what's he know anways?

All right! Stop whatcha doin' 'cause I'm about to ruin the image and the style that ya used to. I look funny, but yo I'm makin' money, see so yo world I hope you're ready for me. Now gather round I'm the new fool in town and my style's laid down by the Underground. I drink up all the Hennessey ya got on ya shelf so just let me introduce myself My name is anti, pronounced with a Umpty. Yo ladies, oh how I like to hump thee. And all the bloggers in the top ten--please allow me to bump thee. I'm steppin' tall, y'all, and just like Humpty Dumpty you're gonna fall when blog-nation pumps me. I like to write, I like my posts funky, I'm spunky. I like my oatmeal lumpy. I'm sick wit dis, straight gangsta mack but sometimes I get ridiculous I'll eat up all your crackers and your licorice hey yo fat girl, c'mere--are ya ticklish? Yeah, I called ya fat. Look at me, I'm skinny It never stopped me from gettin' busy I'm a freak I like the girls with the boom I once got busy in Raymi's porno chatroom I'm crazy. Allow me to amaze thee. They say I'm ugly but it just don't faze me. I'm still gettin' in the girls' pants at night and I even got my own website

lame, i know...

whitey wouldn't let me sign his new cast... so i tagged up his crutches.

makes me laugh.

Tuesday, January 21, 2003

DAMN!!! i gotta bloody paper cut on my upper lip. fuck envelopes, dude.

i skate down to this one liquor store at least once a day ( Mac's Liquor... for those in the know ), and motherfucker acts like it's my first time in there everytime.( he's not the real "Mac". i think that sucka is dead. )
"marb reds... hard pack..."
"uhhh... have ID?"
so this time i thought i'd make myself stick out and get remembered,
so i made motherfucker stop speaking paki LD on the phone, handed motherfucker my digi-cam, and told motherfucker to take my picture. i felt a little dumb, but i just flashed a smile like...

"try and pretend you need to see my ID again, biatch"

and hey, go figure... he's not camera shy either.

but there's a part of me that doesn't blame motherfucker. he prolly thinks all white people look the same, just like i think all pakis do. and holy shit.
we're both right.

Monday, January 20, 2003

buy your OWN damn tampons

mel and erinmel and erin
motherfuckers are so nice. i get a call from work today, so i say, "yeah, uh... soo sorry for sleeping in... i'll be there after lunch..." and they're all, "we're leaving".

that always happens to me DAMMIT. i stay up till three in the morn, typing my little heart out, all for waste. like when i was in highschool, and it was one of those we-start-an-hour-later-days...
nobody told my ass!

fuckit. the sun is shining, all my neighbors are hottie-mommies, and i'm gonna skate over to mondo's house to have some drinks. life ain't so bad afterall


that was too far to skate. my ears burn, and my side hurts.

mommy was fineso i helped some kids with their bike upstairs,
to try and flirt with the mommy

walking is dumbi found another kinda rage, like road rage... beach-rage. fuck people.

i can't breathe. i need a cigarette.

guess she doesn't know sign language...

that's my homie

that's my shoe. bored yet?


my weekend was pill-filled, and gross, mostly.
other than that work got done, and 3:30am here i am cracking open the last tecate... i was saving it as a reward for myself. bong hits will commence soon too...
i didn't really finish all my work, but i finished it enough to impress La Oficina.

and ok, i'm having more tire issues. my other rear tire (the left one) has a slow air leak, and when i'm on my way to fill it up at the gas station, i can see in my side mirrors people leaping out of their cars at red lights to come and tell me all about it.
i have to lean out my window, and cut off their do-gooder-ness with, "i know, i KNOW"

why can't all the good semarritans be around
when i have only one item at the grocery store?
and am forced to wait behind this old lady
who's cart is piled so high it looks like the Himalayas....?

fuck me. she just broke out the coupons....
and she's paying by check???
oh god kill me.

Sunday, January 19, 2003


i haven't showered yet today, and my fingers smell like my balls. i keep passing out at night with all of my clothes on, and then when i take my socks off the next day, the hair on my toe knuckles is all sore. like the way your hair hurts if you wore a hat all day. i'm glad i didn't fall asleep with a lit cigarette... i did that once and ever since my comforter has been spewing feathers all over my apartment. i'm just glad i didn't burn my whole apartment building down.

so i have to work hard today, and get my files typed. deadline is monday morning...
this is supposed to be my big chance to show them the "old" anti is back, and ready to kick some ass. but am i back?! i think the fit is about to hit the shan.

Saturday, January 18, 2003

i'm sorta sad this weekend. everything sucks. all my friends are doing shit that sounds as exciting as watching paint dry. and i'd go out by myself, but i have this 6 pack of Tecate (aka mexican budweiser) and being drunk alone can be so healthy

trueboy confused me with antiblogblue. although i'm glad they didn't use photoshop to write "lame" accross my face.

this shit confuses me too.

other than that, i feel pretty un-energized.
klonopin this! fucking drugs.

this girl rides the train to downtown LA, slyelvis is her name, and she doesn't even have any pepper spray. ok ok, fine... she may not need pepper spray, BUT she needs to figure out how to tell the homeless that she has "no more cigarettes!!"...

public transportation in LA is a joke. but not a "ha ha" kinda joke.... more like a "please kill me now" kinda joke. so.... good luck to slyelvis and her jobby in BFE.

Friday, January 17, 2003

i left work for a few hours today to take bong hits and watch MTV with dreddy... and when i got back, i found out that the dude there with same name had a total temper tantrum, threw his mouse, and ran outta there.

ha ha ha. i HATE that shithead.

Thursday, January 16, 2003

lookit this shit

TV works again. and that seems to be more of a curse than a blessing. fuck the gods. but there is this really irritating effect now, where everyone and everything is redder than a thing that is red as fuck. like on the shrek commercial... dude was the color of a turd. for real. it's almost unwatchable. yeah... right.

i loathe reading blog posts that are too long,
except for the ones belonging to the linked up people on the left.
i mean...
my other left.
i lose intrest in things too fast. maybe.

someone told me i would make a good teacher because i take time show a person how to do something, and i don't get mad at the person i'm showing.
hmm... a teacher...
that could be me. i sure could use the summers and winters off.... but i couldn't teach highschool and more specifically, highschool girls. no fucking way. why torture my pervy self?


i suffer from road rage. it's true. i hate all people. it's like they're out to get me. people turn stupid once i am driving behind them. i'm like some kinda driving-abilities-Kryptonite. out to fucking get me. which makes me think vegas is a huge mistake. i hate people, and there's a ten trillion people in your way, walking too slow. i fully get road rage on foot too. i just wanna ram people with my shopping cart... they're lucky they don't have horns or brights on those fuckers.

and i get this thing where people think i'm rude to them on the phone. i'm not trying to be a dick, i'm just annoyed easily. and i don't like saying good bye or hello on the phone, people hate that too.

it's like those annoying voice mails where the person leaves a long-as-fuck message but doesn't really say shit. my mom is the biggest offender in this department, "oh anti, i just called about the thing, so it's tomorrow, but i dunno what time, and you might not have to go, and we need to talk about some other things, basically it goes like this, blah blah blah" and the bottom line is that i have to call her back and ask her what the hell was she talking about. and she never remembers. i ask her to only say, "it's mom, call me" but that'd be too easy

Tuesday, January 14, 2003


got that sinking feeling again. still driving on my spare. taking days off work for no reason without warning. smoking too much. spending too much. not eating right. or often enough. dumping urgent calls from work to voicemail. and i'm freezing my balls off.

i wanna be in vegas so bad. i have the picture in my head already, of me flying in for $40 and staying at the Luxor, pitying the losers playing slot-machines while i walk to the cashier to get my chipsssss, and off to hustle some blackjack or craps and chill with Mr. Vegas. there'll be comped drinks, comped shows, and vip access at the restaurants and clubs... and ahhhhhhh.... the pools man... the fucking pools.....
damn writing that made me want to go even more now. fuck.

who wants to come? i know JG said he's down. we'll talk times and places later...

i wish i was born a ninja

hmmmm.....   medicine.....
i lost my only house key. i can break in threw this one window, but it's sorta annoying...

and i'm taking a pizza vacation. no FUCKING more pizza. the pizza guy was starting to recognize my voice when i called. i need to just toughen up and go to the supermarket, and battle it out with the old ladies to get the cart that goes straight when you push it (there's like only two of 'em that don't go all crooked). but everytime i get on one of these grocery store kicks, i realize that i only know how to make frosted flakes and chips&salsa. and, i hate whole milk... non-fat all the way!!

and what the shit am i doing up at 3:45 in the morning? oh well... maybe i'll take a shower...

Sunday, January 12, 2003

so my genius has lead me to a great idea. store my clothing in the kitchen!! it's not like those kitchen cupboards have anything in there. i mean, i have like two cups, maybe three cereal bowls (all dirty, BTW) and some plastic forks and knives. and i have NO food.

so really i could keep clothes in the fridge too... maybe i'll put my boxers in there. i would keep my clothes in my closet, but that's where my bed goes. it's all really very confusing. small apartments suck

and okay fine i'll fuckin admit it. it wasn't my idea. it was mutzers.

tonight i'm going to hollywierd to visit the viking, and right now i'm going to buy my house a plant at home depot. i want a plant that can survive on no water and rare traces of light. hmmmmm.... is there such a plant?

Saturday, January 11, 2003

house parties kinda suck because i never trust anyone. i have to haul around my 12 pack with me wherever i walk to so it doesn't get looted, and at the same time be hiding other peoples' drinks/beers behind couches, and in random places, so i can come back later and consume them myself. and there's the issue of cigarettes. never bring a full pack to a party. just bum 'em off the suckers. it works best when you don't bum smokes off the same person twice in a row. oh and people who say they only have one or two left are LIARS. stalk them until you bust them for lieing, and get your over-due cigarette. and don't forget to tell her, "thanks, bro..."

and i just bought a new cell phone but my fingers are too big to push those tiny assed buttons. dammit!

Friday, January 10, 2003

fuck technology
i had that, "oh it's thursday" feeling all day, and i was at my friends bar, they told me that it was friday, and now i'm all pumped, and i found out about some house party in el segundo... and i even got my credit card back that i lost new years.

and i was thinking that if it's true "you are what you eat" then imma medium dominoes pizza with pepperroni and bell peppers, and those gorss free cinna-dots.
dreddy and crippled whitey
some asshole at work with my same name said to me, "hey anti, nice hair..." because i took off my hat, and hat a kinda hat-head/bed-head mixture... and actually it was pretty tight looking. so i glare at the receding-hairline-having mother fucker and say, "at least i have a hairstyle!" that shut him up... i dare him to ask me for help ever again.

besides everyone hates him

then whitey (who was waiting for me while i was at work, getting high in my car) and i bailed. he had a funny joke but i just asked him what it was again, and it's not funny at all. something about chinese people and mexicans buying car insurance. why was it funny earlier?

totally and completely unrealted: i'm starting to learn that lots of ppl who are not from america not only think we talk like hillbillies from texas, but they think we like George W. Bush, and they think we're fat lazy and stupid.

it's true there are a lot of fat people, stupid people, pro-george-W-people, and hillbillie-talkin-people. but i'm not one (umm... well... maybe a little stupid, whatevs), so just feel sorry for me because it's really annoying with all those other fucks going the ACTUAL speed limit on the freeway.

i'm just kinda like, "hey i just live here, i don't run the sho"

i don't even vote or pay taxes.

Wednesday, January 08, 2003

smoking pot is starting to not be as fun as it used to be. i've been smoking pot almost everyday since i was 14yrs old, cigarettes too. that's nine years of fucking torture to my lungs. it's gotten so bad lately that sometimes i'm affraid to hit the bong, because i know that a ferocious coughing fit will follow.

everything else about it is fine. i like being ripped, the actual proccess of bong hitting/joint rolling is fun, and it's such a mild high you can do almost anything you'd normally be able to do.

people have described me as a pot smoker who drinks, rather than a drinker who smokes pot. that usually makes me say, "ummmmmm kay...?" because like, what does that mean?

that's me in flow blown coughing session.

can't "they" hurry up this whole cloning thing so i can clone myself a fresh set of lungs? i'm kinda in a rush over here...

and i finally straightened up my apartment, finally, and i even got somebody to agree to do my laundry, but i have to pay them. but it's better that way because i am laundry-tarded. i mess something up royally everytime. it's like i don't trust myself anymore...

oh shit my rides here bye.

Tuesday, January 07, 2003


my flip-flop snadals are a dream come true. i love it that wearing socks with them is Lame. i hate socks. well, i hate that i have no clean ones.

what's so wrong with me throwing silverware away rather than washing it? shit... do YOU wanna wash that fork that has been sitting there for weeks with peanut butter on it?

it's too bad there's no service like molly-maid that would come and clean my brain out, instead of my apartment... naw fuck that clean everything. how much extra for the car too? i can't do it myself. at least not this baked. i should find a tweeker to give me some insta-cleanfreak-powder, and start up "vacuum-fest 2003"... but just thinking of that makes me feel sick. fuck meth.

today suuuuuuuucked, like soooo hard. on the way home i realized that i hate surface streets more than than the freeways. (insert proper analogy here to illistrate my frustration) i've never been thrown, and threw, so many middle fingers in one single car ride. maybe i was just being a dick a because i was so annoyed with having my whole days plans shot to hell with that highspeed blowout of my tire. i tried changing the tire myself and got as far as getting the truck jacked up, and getting the flat tire off. but there is an apparent design flaw with chevy trucks that works like this:

is you've ever had a heavy haul, your spare tire release is bent out of shape.

i spent like forever on the corner of carson and vermont burning weed, tobacco, and time (thank god i had my pot and my piece on me)


i got a flat tire today on the Harbor freeway going 80 mph and now i'm all dirty and have BO and it sucks to be me today.
nuff said, bub

Monday, January 06, 2003

mentally stimulating people are so scarce in the south bay. i'm suffocating in surface conversations. you can only ask, "hey how's it goin?" so many times in a row before your head explodes. people here have nothing to talk about, me included, and so it just pains you with boredome. ouch. i talked with someone who is the opposite of all these things tonight, and it was, as always, a breath of fresh air.

company has just arrived...


fuck village fotos is effing with me again. em effers!

Sunday, January 05, 2003

sometimes i don't pay attention to the simple pleasures in life, and it makes me sad.

a buetiful girl pressing the crosswalk button, the perfect song, a random cameo by a "long time no see" friend...

sometimes i feel like i get too city-slickered out that i just zoom past the important shit. i mean look, i ignore my family copletely, i'm rude to my friends, i push my luck at work... and well, i wanna knock all that shit off.

i need to get my act together. i feel like i just got all these loose ends hanging around and it's starting to bug the shit out of me. and what do i do? i get high. stupid me. like, "wuuu hoooo, problem solved" ...not.

should i be proud that i'm not like my loser friends and i don't live at home with mommy, i have a good job (success w/out college, what'cha got to say now?), i pay my own way, and i'm not all bad with girls (at least not 100% bad) ??

no i shouldn't. why should i feel good about doing the things i should be doing automatically. comparing myself to mama's boys does me no good. and know what? fuck if i know how i'm not more obnoxious than i already am... maybe it was me being forcesd to have a job no matter what since i was 13.

but it's not my folks, it's me. i'm the one. i'm why i don't suck, don't starve, and make good money. because i'm smart charming adaptable and good looking. (scuze me while i toot my own horn, "toot toot")

and it's about time i realize all this shit and walk with a little more confidence in my step, sideways down the street, with a hunny on my arm, and mashing out more often like i should.

and then... totally unrelated... but bear with me: the best quote from scarface is, "this city is just one big pussy, waiting to get fucked..."

i feel the same way
i have pics to post tinight/morning too... but village photos is being lame right now. too bad for you

Friday, January 03, 2003

welcome to my office
i've rode through a freeway in a truck with no name
it felt good to be out of the rain
on the freeway... you can't remember your name
because there ain't noone for to give you no pain
(la la la)

tonight was the first time i barfed without being dunk or high in a very long time. nausea is so simple whilst sober. you spew a bit, wash your hands, and SHABANG life is moving on faster than you can say "fuck off and die". because typically my drunken puking sessions are more marathon-esque... the kind where you wake up on the bathroom floor with no shirt on, covered in a cold sweat, and hoping everyone has left or fallen alseep wherever it is you are, so you can escape without interrogation.

you all know the anti's boring blog from hell motto right?? "interrogate this!"
fffffuck... i can't see shit
and why when i'm in a hurry at the supermarket (i'm in a hurry 100% of the time by the way, so change, so i guess i mean always) do all the SLOWest old ladies jump out in front of me with their piled to the top grocery carts, and their dykey haircuts, and come to a complete stop, blocking the whole aisle (wierd word by the way... "aisle")? is there a reason like "they're old and stupid", or do the gods just hate me? i guess that's a dumb question...

everyone knows those damn gods hate me.

Thursday, January 02, 2003


phrankena tankena
i need to go condom shopping
the ones i have are so think it's almost like i have on three at once
you could shoot my dick with a machine gun i'd not feel it
i need some thin ones the thin ones are scarier, because they're more fragile

Wednesday, January 01, 2003

meet gigsnew years warm up
maybe there is such thing as "too rowdy". my skull still feels sore from that last head butting i recieved, when i opened my crusty ass eyes today.... my mouth and throat felt fuzzy enough to need a shave, and my shoulder still feels sorta fucked up. and shit... i don't even have half the bruises than bitchslapper got...

the general consensus is "ouch".

so my new years resolution is to clear all the bullshit off the ground so i can see my carpeting again. OR to buy a bigger dirty clothes hamper. whatever'll fucking work. oh, and to waste less money.

man i hope that one dude grabbed my credit card for me...
fuck "too rowdy" i hate it
MORE new years warm upthat's the view from my driveway


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Tony Pierce