it's your pal, anti.... just giving a heads up
if you want to find me i'll be the drunk with a brown hat on .
you'll know it's me, cuz i won't have on anything else.
except my award winning smile.
is it wrong to ask the guy at 7-11 for a celebrity discout?
and what's with all the age discrimination?
fucking guy at the liquer locker...
looking at me like i'm gonna rob the place,
JUST CUZ I'M YOUNG LOOKIN...
and my face was covered with pantyhose
he was dead serious.
my wierd method of starving myself to save money is maybe a bad idea. i've gona from average, to thin, to skinny, to annorexic-ish, to straight up auschwitz.
but wow cool, i sure do have a neato lookin rib cage. now i know.
i can do this for hours.
i wouldn't call it a huge problem, like, as in... life threatening, or the end of the world as we know it.
but my problem sucks, and i don't know what to do about it.
i'm basically asking you (yes that means any dumb shmuck who happens upon this ill organized mess of a website) for help...
with my problem.
i wish i could just have the savoir faire to put such problems to rest on my own. and i've done my best in my opinion.
sure i've had bouts where i lost my composure, and let the problem get the best of me... but i'm only human, i never claimed i was perfect
and i feel like i bear my fair share of the load with this problem, in respect to owning up and taking responsibility for it.
i'm just writing this, hoping that someone reading this knows the answer, and thus can lend me guidance, and giive me and this problem the closure we so desperately seek.
so please... chime in, drop your two cents worth, spread the knowledge, and bail me out of this shit.
and to those of you who don't wanna clue me in on what i can do, i ask you... what's your fucking problem?
this is a link to a blog
and this is what i want on my tombstone...
anti was a bland, boring, colorless, dead, driveling, dull, flat, flavorless, inane, innocuous, insipid, jejune, least, lifeless, limp, milk-and-water, milk-toast, nothing, nowhere, stale, tame, tasteless, tedious, tiresome, unimaginative, uninspiring, uninteresting, unpalatable, vacant, vacuous, watery, weak, wishy-washy, zero
this person wrote how they find it hard to meet new people. i think that's crazy. i'm trying to learn how to turn off the flow of new people. know what i mean?
i used to be extremely shy, and insecure... and i used to be that guy at the party or the club who was glued to the wall, and all that. and at the time it was pre-lasik eye surgery... so i couldn't even see anything anyways... because i was too embarassed by my nerdy ass glasses.
but then one day, and i don't know how i came to the conclusion, i decided... "being shy is for PUSSIES"
and it is
i'm still a shy loser pussy deep down... but i've mastered the art of faking like i'm not.
i would just be loud, and smile retardedly at everyone, and know some good jokes, and let'er rip. even though the whole time i had this flushed feeling in my face, because i knew the sham i was putting on for everyone as "mr. confidence", was gonna come crumbling apart any second.
but it didn't.
so i did it more and more, until i i got to the point where it came naturally... and now i can make friends in any city in under ten minutes. (any english speaking city, at least)
i guess you gotta want it bad enough. if the risk of looking stupid out weighs the desire to meet new people... that's cool, i can respect that, and i have chosen that path for most of my 24 years on mother earth...
but i'll tell ya what... looking stupid ain't so bad. in fact, i've parlayed looking stupid into "part of my charm". everyday i do something dumb, be it that i trip over my own feet, or have a huge magic marker streak on my face the whole day. but it's cool, cuz i just laugh it off, and make a joke of it, and it's no big whup.
i derno. it feels like now i'm off on a tangent. so i'm done. for now.
i'm busy anyways, i got advil pills to swallow, and glasses of water to drink. flu this, M F.
my friends got totally mad at me for saying i felt like alecia keys tends to "black it up" with the use of ebonics, when she's really far more articulate. they called me a racist, and asked how i could not like her because of that.
but they're all either crazy or retarded, or maybe they were not on the sober side of thinking, because i had to repeat over and over, that i DO like alecia keys, and i even have some of her songs, and i think she's very pretty.
but it's like, i have the same feelings about kelly and jack osborne. i think they "britt it up". for chrisakes, they grew up in BEVERLY HILLS. not the UK. it's like how come the chinese-liquer-store-owner's kid's speak perfectly americanized non-accent having english, and yet the osborne kids sound just like their folks. and really just like sharon, cuz ozzy's accent is well... i don't know what the fuck it is, but it's not an eglish accent anymore.
the main difference being of course i do not like kelly or jack, i think they're fat and ugly, and talent-less.
ok nuff on that.
now for this other thing that peaked my intrest... the lick blog. it's a group blog. and i expect that some of it will be awesome, and some of it will suck... just like every single blog out there. but for some reason there's all this comotion about it. maybe because it's a girls only blog... but even that isn't entirely true, because tony pierce (founder of lick) told me that he may be calling on me and or other boys he thinks write well for blog-guest-appearances.
i think really it's just tony. i think if it was ANYONE else starting up the same thing... not only would nobody notice, but nobody would have much of an opinion on it. tony's a super nice dude who packed me a bonghit once, and when i was desperate enough to beg for money... he flowed me some duckets. i think most of the lick drama that's going round stems from jealousy.
even i'm jealous of tony...
even if only for the size of his...
the bottom line is that i wish him luck on his project, and i hope the outcome is lame less often than my own blog. and that should be easy.
from supercuts AGAIN.
i will never learn my lesson, i guess.
just for the record... supercuts = supersucks.
but the chick who cut my hair was cool, her uncle is the bassist in korn. and she did exactly what i told her...
so the bad haircut is completely 100% my own fault.
she even tried to warn me.
but the bright side is...
i hadn't been flipped off in weeks and i was starting to wonder if i had lost my touch. i still got it!
and props to the white GMC little truck that was also going 90MPH the whole time, even though i whupped his ass once we got to the newhall pass. i like fellow speeders. it makes me feel less likely to get pulled over... for no good reason at all.
i'm so sick i have the heater on full blas, a sweatshirt on, my pants and shoes on...
i'm under a blanket
and i'm still ferezing cold, but a sweaty mess at the same time.
and all i want is to smoke my weed. but my bong scares me. it's all tall and menacing, and i know i'll die once i get the inevitable coughing fit. or maybe throw my back out.
i've done that before... i threw my back out from a bonghit.
i could barely move, i even had to pee in a dixie cup, cuz i couldn't make it all the way to the bathroom.
anyways, i'm just rambling now, and blathering, and all i want is to fell better, and bathe myself in NyQuil. i have cherry flavored right now, and it's soooooo nasty. green death flavor forver! ok... i'm done.
for the last ten years everytime i get sick... it all starts with a bonghit of terror. and it feels like it's just a cougher that sticks around for like a month. my homies and i used to call it bong-idis.
whatever i got...
the bottom line is...
i wish being sick made me not want cigarettes and not want more bonghits. because i can't help myself... addictions take priority over getting well. and my throat is shredded, and begging for mercy... like tone loc.
where's my milkshake?? did you forget about me?
oh and i bought an inflatable teenage mutant ninja turtles chair.
i spent money i needed to save. i'm a genius.
absurdity totally heard of me. clarity is a rarity. this buss will, not hussle...
unless it's cutting me off. like it just fucking did.
it's a fight to get right, parked in that spot that you like, keeping traffic at bay, singing "have a happy holiday!!!"
but that's just stupid and dumb, and there's not enough captain's spiced rum,
so i toke, and make insecure jokes...
about lonliness and family rejection.
indifference is my inflection.
unwanted pity from every direction.
keep that shit homie, put it in your pocket
and rock it,
cuz i have no shame in my game.
i'm just kickin it live, i suggest you do the same.
i drive by the malls and the stores
and the goodwill-bell-toting-whores,
how i haven't made an in-store-appearance,
and how little interference,
christmas has actually had.
and i'm glad.
i ate cupcakes my nephew made for santa, and OH MY GOD, my cousin jenny... she was cooking some shit on the stove, and she put her cheapo cigarette lighter on the stove too, and there was a huge explosion, and we told her that her eyebrows were singed off, and that was fucking awesome, and then we get to make fun of her for it for years. and really...
that's fucking christmas.
that and wrapping-paper-ball-wars.
today they wanted to hold my check, and last time i went in they told me their computers were down, and to try the bank next door. well, how bout i never come back, fuckers? they know they got my money and therefore got me by the proverbial balls. although i prefer, the proverbial brass balls.
and it's raining here, and the rain ruins everything. everyone in LA loses their brain. or at least they forget how the gas peddle works. but noooooooooo, nooine ever forgets how the brake peddle works. on top of every sunday driver thinking the holidays mean they get to come out ANY damned day of the week.
i think i'm just gonna go through a drive through and order a million sodas so i never run out of ammo. nothing wakes up grandpa like a "go large" diet coke exploding on his windshield.
it's all the same old problems flaring thier loud bark small bite fangs, and i'm like totally yawning and rolling my eyes. come and get me verizon, cingular, rent, capital one, and sister, and mom. come squeeze blood from this rock.
maybe if i wish for it bad enough Rufuss will show up with my time traveling phone booth, and i can devise a plot to pass history class. that's all i want for christmas anyways.
i don't make fun of THEM for being covered in sawdust and for wearing an orange apron. do i? maybe i should. any job that requires you wear your name on your chest are subject to dissing.
whitey came over. i guess he's in town. i guess i forgot to bum a million parliament lights off of him. he smoked some of my crackweed. i smoked some of his marmalade from santa cruz. there's my day. now i have a too-many-bonghits-headache, and i could kill for a taco.
i got big tanky and the viking going with buzznet. to further my rip off of others.
i like vincent vega's hair... i think that's what i'm shooting for. i greased it up cool like that when i went to do the holidays family thing. my sisters hadn't seen me in months, they said i looked "older". i told them they smell.
i'm investigating how to make money off my webcam. and i figured if i could get chicks or fags to pay to watch me jerk off, not only will that be a nice boost to my income, but getting paid to jerkoffffff? that's fucking brilliant. am i wrong? no. i'm not.
now the plan is actually to be as evil as possible, so that when i arrive in hell, i can be high ranking and maybe lead one of satan's armys. maybe i'll punk the devil and run everything. we'll see.
it's like they said on CNN or wherever i heard it... originally the cartoon was named after michael jackson and was titled, "sponge bob, no pants"
btw, where do i send my resume?
rock and fucking roll
back and forth, pacing pacing.
boners from loners and some juicy tastey pussy.
can i getta drool up in this bitch? can i?
thinking while drinking, and smokin followed by chokin, i'm a valuable token who reacts to eye contact. i'm hunting stablilty, it's under attack.
but the fact...
is that no matter what i do, or what i say, or who i who, or what the hay, i'm trying to...
...i want the day (and you know this)
i ain't rich, or your bitch, and i'm known to switch, it up with a twitch, or a touch
and all while rocking my lucky yellow sweatshirt that i wear proud and loud. it's my sacred shroud. another line could just read
mr. boud (fuck it, it rhymed)
make sense of this if you can, and i know you can, it's code. but the lines shout it out, clear and super clean. my mind is still racing, it's a micro machine.
i'm gonna go and sit in my truck and think about it all now. and wish that i hadn't been a fuckwad who blew it. and hope that the people who i've fucked over will let me make it up to them, and/or let me repay them. i never meant it to turn out like this.
anti is the greatest.
and by "the greatest" i mean... better than YOU.
and by "YOU" i mean the world.
i feel a bit overly-confident today. so step off, or you'll be dead like john holmes. or like vincent price.
the sun is shining and my apartment smells like an ashtray. the air is nippy and my hair looks like a mushroom cloud. homie gets tons of traffic and i get less than him. or in other words... everything is like it always is. except one thing.
i'm going... and it ain't no 3 hour tour neither.
try and figure THAT one out.
stains of drama and trouble and problems polute my naturally happy go lucky, shit eating grin, fuckit till tomorrow, attitude.
money isn't evil itself. people are evil. and there's some evil people who need money. or needing money can make you do evil things. and know what? it's a jungle out there. bring some brass knuckles.
i bought a pack of marb reds today, because they were out of buy-one-get-one-free chesterields. wich is ok, because those were starting to bcome nasty. i try not to buy the same brand twice in a row. variety is the spice of life. or so they say. and by "they" i mean all the wierd creepy voices inside my head.
the freeways and streets are fucking packed, man. i can't take it. christmas rearing it's ugly, impatient, too-many-people, head.
i gotta admit even a bitter hardass like myself kinda liked the snow i saw thru the grapevine on my way to bakersgay. that's the whitest my christmas will ever get. thank the gods. all of them. even hermes.
i lost my slayer tape. very upset about that.
and hey about these chicks. they're fucking crazy, man.
it must suck to be her.
talented, good looking, engaged to be married with a great guy...
i mean how awful.
and as you can tell by the picture... she is drowning. it's all too much. can't the gods cut her a break? can't they hook a sista up?
maybe she can trade her luck with my luck... and *I* can be the one who has the misfortune of "the good life" and she can take it easy with a broken feul pumps, and an astronomically high cell phone bill.
yes... i'm that nice of a friend.
somewhere in between the grapevine and bakersfield, northbound on I-99, my car's engine starts shaking around, and putters a bit before it totally dies on me, and i'm fucking stranded. with a dead cell phone. and i got like 3 hours till i need to be at work
so i run to the shell gas station i can see in the distance, and call my mom, my boss, and AAA. triple a said,
"the tow truck will be there in 20 minutes."
it fucking nearly took me that long to run to the gas station, so i book it back to the car at full blown ninja speed.
where the fuck is that tow truck??? there're not coming. they drove by and didn't see me. i decide to turn the key... the engine turns over, "put put put put...." it dies. something in my mind convices me that i'm just low on gas. so i RUN AGAIN back to the shell station, buy myself a five gallon gas can, filler up, and book it back to my truck where i pour that shit in. it didn't do a god damned thing. nothing changed.
so i figure the tow truck totally flaked on me, i run BACK TO THE GAS STATION, and as soon as i walk inside, my payphone starts ringing,
i say as i hold the greasy diseased reciever to my face,
they say... and proceed to tell me that they're AT my truck, and have been WAITING for me for several minutes. well... sorry to inconveniance those dumb fucks.
my truck is up, locked, and loaded, and me and tow-truck-boy are off to the nearest chevy dealership, where THOSE pole smokers tell me, "gee whiz i hope yer ass has someplace to stay the night..."
are they fucking kidding me?
at this point i say fuck it, because i need to get to work... which btw, without a car, is like, fucking ridiculous.
so i show up at work, finally get a place to plug in my beyond dead cell phone, and call everyone person i ever met and or knew or even fucking just HEARD of, and begged for a ride. my cousin's busy, my boss is in the hospital, bigtanky isn't answering her phone, breetard is at school all day, dreddy has some important appointments and "hates to drive that much", my mom is at work and can't be reached, i don't know my sister's phone numbers, and brooklyn zoo is a fucking retard.
i was so desperate i even called B hart, Radke, and Guido. yes i was THAT desperate.
but then... kinda as a joke to myself... i called whitey's cell phone in santa cruz... and the nigga called back!!!
then he even told me he could be here in time for me to get off work...
that's when i notice none of my usual crew of sign walkers (aka guys who stand on a street corner with a sign for 5 hours a day)... are there.
so like finding a whole new crew off the street if always a bitch. add the fact that i'm on foot, holding four 8 foot tall signwalking signs in my hands, and looking like a highschool stoner... well that just makes it even more retarded. but man, i find some black dude selling candy bars for a dollar... "know anyone who wants to make some cash today, my man?" he jumped at the chance. and as i walked with him, and our huge embarassing signs, we asked every asshole off the street if they felt like making some quick cash. i finally gave up and had him call his wife. BAM. two down.
so i grab my remaining signs, and shove off in the direction of the other intersection we need walkers at. and i see two dudes at the bus stop, and recruit them like that. and then we all take the bus together to their spots.
accomplishing all i did today is unheard of without a car. replacing my whole crew succesfully?? and while i'm on foot?! i'll wait here while you make up the gold fucking medal, and throw me a party.
now i'm stranded. i didn't sleep a wink last night either... the plan was to sleep in the truck. i even brought a real pillow. now i'm here at kinko's. and i just realized that i left my cigs in the car, and the car is in the dealership, and the dealership is like BFE from here.
so yeah, i'm lucky to have a friend like whitey who'd drop his job interview, and drive to rescue me from the hell that is my existence. it's now 12:31pm... and i need to take a crap, and i'm hoping, for their sake, that kinko's has a plunger. actually i could care less. muahahahah.
and don't forget my truck... everyone pray to the gods that it's not my transmission. puhhhhhhhhhlease.
well FUCK CHRISTMASS TOO, motherfuckers.
that's the one good thing about living in this maddening, palm tree ridden, diseased, concrete jungle of a "paradise" we call LA. or how about "L Gay"??? or "L Shitty" is even better. ANYWAYS here it never feels like christmass, and i love it. it ain't snowing... there ain't no rockafeller giant ass tree thing... it's not all holidays all up in my face every two seconds. except for the fucking salvation army, bell ringing, door-monkeys, money collecting, guys. if it weren't for boz's blog's holiday decor, i'd have totally forgot about christmass. dammit i wish i had selective memory.
i read my blog a year ago and totally forgot that last year we didn't do christmass either. my sisters were broke, and so everyone decided, "let's just no do christmass"...
this year, I'M broke. THEY're fine. so they're all gonna just do christmass without me. i'm not bitter. no not at all.
but in the end i really don't care. i have more important things to worry about than wrapping paper, and scotch tape.
maybe i'll eat dinner at muscle 68's house. wait is that like inviting myself? hahaha like i care.
comfy lookin, eh?
i'm thinking about getting shades for my truck widows,
and all that shit,
and it will become my little cave of deviance,
and all my perverted and sinful ways can occur,
in creepy, skeevey darkness.
really it's just cuz it's so fucking bright i could sleep better.
i have this awesome parking spot i hit up every damn time, it's the employee of the month spot. oh yah, big ballin.
i'm so good at getting paid to sleep, i might as well be a security guard.
that's when his show starts it's live broadcast from wherever the fuck he is. but then, as i listen... i laugh, and i wanna hear the whole show, so i stay up even later. it's a vicious cycle.
actually that radio show is why i hate weekends. i mean suuuure ARROW 93.1 is playing blocks of classic rock, KLON 88.1 is always bumpin the sickest jazz, and who doesn't love "breakfast with the beatles" on sundays... but it just ain't the stern show.
i first got hooked on stern in 8th grade, 92-93. i would sit in class with a hoodie on so i could draw my name on my notebook and listen to my favorite show, because i'm such a genius i never needed to waste time studying or doing homework. an ten years later i'm as hooked on it as i ever was.
tony pierce said he was gonna see about getting hooked up with the E! crew that does the filming of his show. that made me so jealous. but i guess he never got lucky enough to score that gig... cuz i know he'd invite me over to check shit out.
the saddest part to me is that Howard Stern will one day retire. maybe not after THIS contract is up... (he always threatens he's done with radio to up his payscale) but he will be gone ONE day.
long live the king of all media!!!
i'm prolly not OCD, or even ADHD, or any of the other acronyms that mean i need ritalin.
i left the house this morning for bakersfield... a two hour drive made into three hours thanks to LA gridlock, and anyways, i took a bong hit before i left, but i should have made it a double, cuz my high was long gone before i even drove through canyon country.
now the people in kinko's copies are staring at me, because i've been sleeping in my car all day, and my hair looks feckin awesome.
my cell phone that i'm borrowing from my boss is such junk. it wants to die more often than a suicidal nutjob locked up in a loony bin. it wants to die more than i do when i'm sitting in my car for 5 hours waiting for my signwalkers to get off. but i don't wanna DIE die... i just wanna die-ish. like, i'll be over it when i have my dumbass bong glued to my face.
someone wrote me and email and said i seem like an asshole. do i? i'm really a nice dude. i promise.
and in case anyone though i did...
non parlo italiano
these are pics from old tony's, the coolest oldman bar ever, where i can go get a mai tai, keep the cool souvenir of a cup that it comes in, and not be hassled by the typical shiny-shirt-wearing-weekend-warrior-assholes, that have turned the once "seedy underbelly" of hollywood into metrosexualopolis. they should be ashamed.
but nice view from old tony's, eh?
can't live with them...
hypnotize them into total obedience.
yeah it's been since august since i got the letter frrom the collection agency saying, "turn in your license, and give the court your money". and i've put on at LEAST 12,000 miles since then. so what?
i'd have payed it sooner, but man, it's not like $628.00 falls out of the sky. so like, it's gonna be awesome to have that shit back. i was tired of relying on jedi mind tricks to not get pulled over. i tried "not speeding" once or twice but that makes me feel like i might as well walk.
if you're not going at least 15 miles over the speed limit, why bother?
oh and here's a little tip for all your southern californians out there on the roads: if you see a blue chevy truck, with an extremely dashing driver behind the wheel, it's prolly me. so get the fuck out of my way so i don't have to punish you with my brights and my horn. and if you drive next to me at the same speed, so i can't change lanes... i'm going crash my car into yours so that both our cars explode, and i'll see you in hell motherfucker because everytime i am trying to go somewhere some dipshit like yourself strolls on up, and goes THE ACTUAL SPEED LIMIT, and i look at the motherfucker, and i stare, and i honk, and bust the middle finger and...
whoops. obviously i'm very passionate when it comes to my road rage. i'm out for blood.
so i pull into filler up, and try my brand new atm card out. it says, "cannot authorize, see cashier."
the cashier grabbed my card, and told me to help myself.
i pumped $20.08 worth, and strolled back in.
they swiped my card again, and were all, "ummm.... it's declined."
ok. i have NO money and am in the middle of nowhere. great. but i got my card back... and got my gas... what do i need THESE people for right? plus i was late for work.
so i tell them, lemme go grab my wallet out of my car..." hop in, and BONE the fuck out of there.
i get home to find a message from a sherrif on my answering machine. they were on to me. i guess i should have been smarter and covered up my license plate. but i ain't no crook, really. i stole only because i had to. right?
so today i called the gas station and told a great lie about how it wasn't ME, it was some un-trustworthy relative, and i will pay them ASAP. and they agreed to drop the charges. but... i wasn't expecting the same chick to be there.
i stalked the place till it seemed she was in the back... and i go up to the cashier dude, and say, "i did a gas'n'go yesterday, here's the money..." and he starts yelling for the chick who will obviously recognize me. that's when i boned out for the second time.
so i dunno. maybe she dropped the charges, maybe not. one thing i know for sure, is that i'm the dumbest person alive.
December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 January 2006 July 2007