Anti abandons the internet.

i hope everyone who reads this knows how addicted i am to so many things, even fucking donuts.

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?