Anti abandons the internet.

it's finally over, thank fucking god.

Sunday, February 29, 2004

But your thoughts will soon be wandering
the way they always do
When you're ridin' sixteen hours
and there's nothin' much to do
And you don't feel much like ridin',
you just wish the trip was through

Well you walk into a restaurant,
strung out from the road
And you feel the eyes upon you
as you're shakin' off the cold
You pretend it doesn't bother you
but you just want to explode

Most times you can't hear 'em talk,
other times you can
And you always seem outnumbered,
you don't dare make a stand

Out there in the spotlight
you're a million miles away
Every ounce of energy
you try to give away
As the sweat pours out your body
like the music that you play
Later in the evening
as you lie awake in bed
With the echoes from the amplifiers
ringin' in your head
You smoke the day's last cigarette,
rememberin' what she said
Here I am
On the road again

-Bob Seager

Have you ever...
{x} Fallen for your best friend? yes
{x} Made out with JUST a friend? yes
{x} Been rejected? yes
{x} Been in love? yes
{x} Been in lust? yes
{x} Used someone? yes
{x} Been used? yes
{x} Cheated on someone? no
{x} Been cheated on? yes
{x} Done something you regret? yes

Have you/are you/do you....
{x} Considered a life of crime? yes
{x} Considered being a hooker? yes
{x} Considered being a pimp? yes
{x} Are you psycho? yes
{x} Split personalities? yes
{x} Schizophrenic? yes
{x} Obsessive? Yes
{x} Obsessive compulsive? yes
{x} Panic? yes
{x} Anxiety? yes
{x} Depressed? yes
{x} Suicidal? yes
{x} Obsessed with hate? yes
{x} Dream of mutilated bodies, blood, death, and gore? yes
{x} Dream of doing those things instead of just seeing them? yes
{x} Understanding: yes
{x} Open-minded: yes
{x} Arrogant: yes
{x} Insecure: no
{x} Interesting: yes
{x} Hungry: yes
{x} Friendly: no
{x} Smart: Yes
{x} Moody: yes
{x} Childish: yes
{x} Independent: yes
{x} Hard working: yes
{x} Organized: no
{x} Healthy: No
{x} Emotionally Stable: yes
{x} Shy: no
{x} Difficult: no
{x} Attractive: yes
{x} Bored Easily: yes
{x} Thirsty: yes
{x} Responsible: yes
{x} Sad: yes
{x} Happy: yes
{x} Trusting: no
{x} Talkative: yes
{x} Original: yes
{x} Different: yes
{x} Unique: yes
{x} Lonely: no
{x} Color your hair? yes
{x} Have tattoos? no
{x} Piercings? no
{x} Have a boyfriend? no
{x} Floss daily? no
{x} Own a webcam? yes
{x} Ever get off the damn computer? no
{x} Sprechen sie deutsche? i have no clue what that said.
{x} Habla espanol? a little bit

{x} Current Clothes: white T, blue jeans.
{x} Current Mood: stoned
{x} Current Taste: cigarette
{x} Current Hair: sloppy
{x} Current Annoyance: N/A
{x} Current Smell: smoke
{x} Current thing you ought to be doing: beating off
{x} Current Desktop Picture: some random hot chick
{x} Current Favorite Group: I don't have a favorite group.
{x} Current Book: N/A
{x} Current DVD In Player: N/A
{x} Current Refreshment: tap water
{x} Current Worry: wondering if i have a warrant
{x} Current Crush: N/A
{x} Current Favorite Celebrity: beetlejuice

{x} Food: chicken parm
{x} Drink: cap n coke
{x} Color: green
{x} Shoes: my adidas
{x} Candy: reese's peanut butter cups.
{x} TV Show: cops
{x} Movie: the big lebowski
{x} Dance: lap dance
{x} Vegetable: corn
{x} Fruit: strawberry

On Dating....
{x} Long or short hair? longish
{x} Dark or blond hair? Dark.
{x} Tall or short? both. no in between
{x} Ms. Sensitive or Ms. Funny? funny
{x} Good or bad? bad
{x} Dark or light eyes? i don't care.
{x} Hat or no hat? i don't care.
{x} Pierced or no? i don't care.
{x} Freckles or none? i don't care
{x} Stubble or neatly shaved? i don't care

On preferences....
{x} Chocolate milk or hot chocolate? chocolate milk
{x} McDonalds or Burger King? McDonalds
{x} Marry the perfect lover or the perfect friend? Perfect Lover.
{x} Sweet or sour? sweet
{x} Root Beer or Dr. Pepper? dr. pepper
{x} Sappy/action/comedy/horror? anything but sappy
{x} Cats or dogs? dogs
{x} Ocean or Pool? pool
{x} Cool Ranch or Nacho Cheese? nacho
{x} Mud or Jell-O wrestling? mud.
{x} With or without ice-cubes? with
{x} Shine or rain? rain
{x} Winter/Summer/Fall/Spring? Spring/Summer.
{x} Vanilla or Chocolate? chocolate
{x} Gloves or mittens? gloves
{x} Eyes open or closed? Closed.
{x} Fly or breathe under water? FLY.
{x} Bunk-bed or waterbed? shiiit... i'll take the floor if it's like that.
{x} Chewing gum or hard candy? Hard Candy.
{x} Motor boat or sailboat? motor
{x} Lights on or off? i don't care
{x} Chicken or fish? fish

What's your favorite:
{x} Number? 7
{x} Holiday? 4th of july
{x} Radio station? 97.1 KLSX Los Angeles
{x} Place? i don't care
{x} Flower? venus fly trap
{x} Scent? skunk bud
{x} If you could be anywhere, where would you be? home.
{x} What would you be doing? beating off.
{x} What are you listening to? talk radio.
{x} Can you do anything freakish with your body? i can eat a lit stick of dynamite and explode into a million pieces.
{x} Do you have a favourite animal, no matter how lame it may be? monkeys.

Saturday, February 28, 2004

what did the five fingers say to the face?


shit man, it feels like that shit will never stop being funny

i am no longer without my vice. commence bonghits.

still waiting for the weed guy to call me back. i've bitten off every single finger nail... and if he doesn't call me back soon, i'll have clawed my eyes out.

it's funny what inspires me to come on here and post some crap... this time it's cuz i've been trying for an hour to get a motherfucker to answer their phone (ANY motherfucker) so i could buy me some herbal ramification up in my station. and i finally got a hold of the MF.

i worked today. it was cool. i actually worked on two seperate sign jobs today. one in reseda, and one in sunland. but some how i spent most of the day playing metroid, zero mission on my newest best friend.

is the sepulveda pass on the 405 ever not just a parking lot?

the viking and C Dizzle came over last night, and brought their huge ass dogs. i'd love to have them over more, butmy house has:
1. no food
2. no cable tv
3. no clean cups (so you can rule out even being able to score some tap water)
4. not enough room for shit
5. only one bong (no simultaneous bong hitting)
6. a bathroom so filthy you might vomit

...actually, what the fuck am i doing here? this place is boring and whack to top it off!

Friday, February 27, 2004

so this morning i wake up after an invigorating 3 hour power nap, and headed to work, only to find myself with a marlboro in my mouth 3 hours too early for work, hanging out in my boss's backyard.

ahhh well... i got let off early and now i am here at home and my hiar is dyed so fucking black i look like a walking ink pad. i know... i fucking think its cool too.

so the new battle plan is to hyper focus on keepingmy apartment and car clean. like anally retentive clean. and hopefully it will add order to other areas of my life. how can my life be inorder when my car is just one giant ash tray? and ask c diddy... she stuck her head in the car window and can vouch. or ORR ask my friends... they'd rather pay the $2.25 a gallon we're paying here in LA than ride with me. and only about 15% of their excuse is the fact that i drive with a death wish... the rest is the smell of signwalker thats imprinted into my seats. remember, signwalker = smelly homeless guy in my car...

i love my job.

they make tan in a can, why can't they make pastey in a can. i wanna look like a corpse.

my mom sent me a rad email. i was literally rofl. yes it's true.

From: Mom
Sent: Monday, February 02, 2004 12:43 PM
Subject: Vocabularianism
> For those who appreciate the intricacies of the English language...the
> Washington Post publishes a yearly contest in which readers are
> asked to supply alternate meanings for various words. The following
> were some of this year's winning entries:
> 1. Coffee (n.), a person who is coughed upon.
> 2. Flabbergasted (adj.), appalled over how much weight you have gained.
> 3. Abdicate (v.), to give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.
> 4. Esplanade (v.), to attempt an explanation while drunk.
> 5. Willy-nilly (adj.), impotent.
> 6. Negligent (adj.), describes a condition in which you absentmindedly
> answer the door in your nightie.
> 7. Lymph (v.), to walk with a lisp.
> 8. Gargoyle (n.), an olive-flavored mouthwash.
> 9. Flatulence (n.) the emergency vehicle that picks you up after
> you are runover by a steamroller.
> 10. Balderdash (n.), a rapidly receding hairline.
> 11. Testicle (n.), a humorous question on an exam.
> 12. Rectitude (n.), the formal, dignified demeanor assumed by a
> proctologist immediately before he examines you.
> 13. Oyster (n.), a person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddish
> expressions.
> 14. Circumvent (n.), the opening in the front of boxer shorts.
> 15. Frisbeetarianism (n.), The belief that, when you die, your soul
> goes up on the roof and gets stuck there.
> 16. Pokemon (n), A Jamaican proctologist

Wednesday, February 25, 2004

live fast.... dye young.

tanky and i are trying an experiment to see wich hair dye company has the most ugly girl on the box. i won. so now there's dye on everything. everything. and tanky's the one getting it everywhere. rookie.

but now i look shiny. and no. there is not really dye everywhere.

but what do you care, nosy pricks...

i will never have children. i hate kids.

not really. i love them. i do. i think, "god dammit anti, aren't kids just the most pleasant creatures ever?" and then i smile... and i sip apple juice, and we all have a happy hiipie love in and sing "oh lord, cumbia" with acoustic guitars, sitting indian style.


the facts are this. i will NEVER have kids. call me selfish, call me whatever... i think i'm doing the world and my un born baby a favor. cuz man, i do not want that at all. i don't want the emotional burden, or the financial responsibility...
and basically, i'm ready to go under the knife, and to get my balls fixed so that no baby seeds come out of it. i wanna shoot blanks.

of course this will be our little secret... just me and you...

i hate the haters. they're always telling me shit like,
"oh mannn, you might want to rethink that idea, cuz what if you want kids later?"
they assume that i hate children.
and the thing is, i KNOW i don't want no fuckn kids... and no i don't HATE children, but yah, they're filthy loud germ-ridden creatures who often have less ability to act right than a golden retriever. so file me under whatever.

do you ever have a sense of duty? like...

do you ever just do what you do not cuz you want to, but cuz you feel like you have to?

me either.

i'm rick james, bitch

Monday, February 23, 2004

muchacho es loco...

what's more frustrating than unattainable love?
unattainable sex. yep. cuz really, what the fuck do guys care about love? pffft. love is just a word to us. like "the" or "it"...

what's more painful than getting your heart broken?
everything. i'm willing to say that a papercut hurts way more, or even just bumping your knee on the coffee table.

is it better to have loved and lost, then to never have loved at all?
umm.. yah sure whatever.

is there such thing as soulmates?
no. but i've heard a lot of good things about fuck buddies. look into it...

is there a bond stronger than love?
there's plenty. there's the bond between man and sports... and that's unconditional. literally!! unless weather conditions take place. women have a strong bond with the mall that seems unconditional. but "love" has tons of conditions... try and fuck your girlfriend's sister, then talk to me about the strong bond of "love". cuz you know your ass will be grass if you tried that shit. unless her sister is a slut... then my friend, you just hit the jackpot.

is it true one can not buy love...?
that is actually a big misconception. the proof being in the form of chinese massage parlors near the Los Angeles International Airport. how do you say "blow me, please" in engrish. i guess it's "brow me, prease".

fuck this i am bored of blogging for the day.

note: everything in this post will be the opposite of the truth...

i am very happy.

my life is great because i have a million friends, a very suportive family, and tons of hope.

problems are few

i like the person that i am, and i'm not by any means a loser.

not only does my social life exist, but it's in full swing.

i have tons of stuff. and people love me.

i treat my body like a temple.

my boss never yells at me or be-littles me. and he has never uttered the words, "anti, you are the biggest problem in my life."

my mom is proud of me

my dad and i have a relationship.

and... AND.... i never feel sorry for myself.

i like to stair out my front door peep hole, and spy on my neighbors.

i'll watch them check their mail.... wait for the elevator.... or whatever.

sometimes there's someone out there talking louder than all holy fuck, and i SLAM open my door, and maKe sure everyone sees my annoyed to high hell face, and hopefully they shove off. but usually they don't.

crackheads must think i am rich, although i don't know why.

like the guy who cleaned all my cars windows for ten cents, on slauson and the 110 freeway. i was putting out signs, ran back to my truck when i saw what looked like a homless guy trying to break in, but it was just some crackhead. but he did a nice job. even got my side mirrors. and wouldn't you know it... with my luck... ten minutes after i made the deal of the century and got clean windows... it starts raining.

but yah man... i'm like a crackhead magnet. aren't i lucky? like when i was rolling through detroit on my drive back home across the country last summer. i was on woodward and mcnichols, on a pay phone, with no shoes on, at 4am in the monring. and this time it wasn't just crackheads, hookers were hitting me up too. i think the no shoes thing helped me out though... cuz they prolly thought, "awww poor white boy already got jumped for his shoes."

Sunday, February 22, 2004


from now on i'm smoking wherever i am, and waiting to get kicked out. walter didn't watch his friends die face down in the muck back in nam, just so i could be told that i can't smoke. am i wrong? am i wrong???

im a drama queen sometimes i swear. i think you could compare my mood when i first woke up to a clogged bong. you just straighten out a paper clip, poke the clog into the water, and things are running smooth and everything is back to normal.

thanks to my friend for cheering me up.. i needed that. consider me un-clogged.

i feel like avoiding everyone who knows me, and without any notice or explanation.

i just wanna be sad in my room, sitting in silence, ignoring the the world.

i want my friends, and i want them to want me... but i don't NEED them. fuck them.

like right now... i don't feel important. and the truth is... i'm not.
anyone who has me in their life could easily replace who i am or what i am to them.
there's nothing special about me.

tonight as i clean up my signs in the ghettos of Los Angeles, i'll do what i always secretly do.... and wish for something terrible to happen to me.

do you ever wish to die? do you ever wonder who'd be at your funeral?
i don't even want a funeral. i just want to be burried in privacy. and instead of a tombstone, will someone please hammer a square plastic sign into my grave? thanks.

i haven't spoken a word out loud in nearly 24 hours.

i want to be chief broom, and just maintain as a fly on the wall, and i'll mop the psych ward, and avoid nurse ratchet. that sounds dreamy.

who's got your respect? who do you admire? who you gonna invite when you buy your private island?

i was recently written and asked to write on esuch things. and therefore i will indulge.

people that have my respect are people that think. people that don't just swallow what's told to them. the one's who are always trying to poke holes in a story to uncover any untruths.

who do i admire... that's hard. i look up to my mom. i think she's a badass. recently i went to her house, and hung out for like ten minutes, and i was reading this yellow lined pad of paper she was keeping notes on. it was a list titled, "finding spirituality and happiness" how fucking awesome is that. she's making a fucking list.

the private island question is hard for me too. cuz i close my eyes, and all i can see is weekend at bernie's, and that just disturbs me.

anyways, this apartment sorta is my private island... and there have been very few invites. bigtanky the up the street homie comes over most often. and really... that's about it. dave has stopped by now and then... but he has to hide the fact he's hanging with me, cuz his ladie thinks i'm the devil...

they are the only two people that have been here more than like... twice.

but i'm in that transitional stage, where i don't really want any of the friends i used to have, and haven't made all the new friends i want yet. and really.. i'm not even sure i want many friends. who fucking needs friends anyways.

this is the friend i want... a dude with a car, and his own money, pot, and his own everything... who comes over, instead of me hanging at his house.. and who knows when to leave before i get annoyed. whitey's the best at it... before he moved away.

and that reminds me,. i need to visit him in santa cruz as soon as humanly possible. he's till homeless up there, but you'd never be able to tell. oh and ANNNNNNND whitey's gonna start training on the sign job. he's gonna be the northern cali jobber of signs. how tight is that?

Saturday, February 21, 2004

where do i belong? i don't mind going it alone in this... but...

sitting in silence is my only true luxury...
sitting still.

with nothing turned on... not even my fan.

and i'll think of things. and just feeeeel them. let them hit me. soak it in.

then i'll lay down, turn on some random tv station... it won't matter what, cuz i'll barely pay attention, it's just to hear someone talking. and i'll sit there in bed, with my shoes still on... and let the hours slide me by.

knowing there's a world of fun, and drama, and all sorts of good and bad things that i'm just abstaining from.

staying away cuz i'm ashamed. embarrassed about who and what i am.

i bought a gameboy advance. i think i blew my money

back to the task at hand... seeing how much cigarette smoke i can fill this apartment with before the paint peels off.

i took this pic today

fucking holy crap. i am digitally connected again, and it makes me want to cry. a MANLY cry... fuck off...

anyways, yah, i got a new cell phone. and i am very unhappy about this. cuz like, life cellphoneless was starting to fucking rule the school supreme.

people use their cell phones too damn much anyways. use some fucking restraint. oh, you HAVE to be talking to what's-her-tits in line at 7-11? here's a thought... call the bitch back, pay the man for your powerbar, and let US (the rest of the world) get on with our lives.

chrissakes, do you take the fucking thing in with you while you're shitting? so you can be using every free second of you life enhanced by a phone call... huh? do yah? cuz i mean, if you can't even behave yourself in a goddamned variety store, then you're really just a tacky talker. and i bet you're also the kinda person that talks all super loud at places like... sayyy... the next fucking table over from me, or, basically anywhere NEAR me. that's you? isn't it?

well, when i see people on their cell phones now, i'm just embarrased for them. like, yah, i have one now again, not by choice though. AND it will be off, and ignored as much as possible.

except during work. and even THEN, i'll only answer incoming calls from my boss or the client. NOONE else. nope.

so are you all curious what my new number is? i'll give you a clue... it's not 310, and it's not 213, and it's not 323... and that is all i'm gonna sayyyyyyy mothafuckas. i have a prize for the first person to figure out the cell number.

but new phone is pretty awesome, at least i won't have to run into a random jack in the box with the non car charger (my old phone, and um the wall plug was the only kind it took) and it died, and tony pierce told me some trick once, but i was baked and forgot to ever try it, and well, now that problem is my past. now the problem is i want the phone dead. heh.
now i'm gonna close my eyes and try and will myself a lighter to appear magically in my hand so i can hit mary
and delete my brain

Thursday, February 19, 2004


would anyone buy these shirts? fellas, maybe for your girlllll? ladies... are you down?

i need feedback or the idea is caput.
ruttedout |at| yahoo . com

one clever mf

here's a newsflash

von dutch, von fucking sucks.

i wrote to god.

i also drove to temecula, then to north hollywood, and tomorrow i don't work yet, but everyone else does. mmm, i love that.

i love when *i'm* the guy who got the sweet gig. the non arizona gig. the no sign walker homeless people gig.

yes funkotrons, it's good to be alive, and even better to be me. there seems to be no limits now... i might even be richer sooner than i think.

wouldn't that just be shits and giggles? me the internet begger hitting it rich...
so here's the thing people need to start understanding, it's about traffic on the road. if you fuck with me, i WILL kill us both. i'm crazy. i don't care. so like when i try to go around you, don't race me to try and not let me over. first of all, i have a V8, and will school you and your toyota tercel.... secondly, you're just going slow, and holding me up, why do you enjoy me tailgating you close enough to smack you upside the head?
see those? those are my brights.
hear that? that is my horn.
and you better believe i have a super sized root beer from taco bell with your name on it.

try me.


Tuesday, February 17, 2004

what is the deal?

this is the deal:
i fucking rule and you fucking know it, now let me hit you with the proof.

you, my friend, are just jelllisss. it's like why i had to dump my ex best friend. i got my drivers license before him, i had a girlfriend before him, i got laid before he did, i got a job before he could find one, i moved out before--- wait he still lives at home. 25 and lives at home.... no wonder he can't stand my ass.

this is what i have come to believe... that really if i want something done, i can count on nobody but myself to make sure it's done right.
no. matter what.

there's very little that i say i am gonna do that i don't actually do. most of the time i don't even say shit about it, and it just gets done, and poof you don't know shit about it till it's happening. like when i hijack my friends and take them to run errands with me. they're all, "why are we pulling up in front of the bank?"...

surprise! i have shit to do, and now you get to wait in the car while i do it.

i can't stand the shit i'm writing. nothing lately has been writing i'd normally publish at all. but fuck censorship. when i'm sucking it up, hiding from the internet does me no good.
"just click publish, anti... shut the fuck up already..."

i'm just a simple man, i like simple things. i'm a simple man, really.

im all about good taste, expensive or not
the sensitive spot
within myself, i like what i got
now don't mistake mind for man, cuz im not simple minded
im just effifient with the logic and completely on time with it
and my thoughts and the earphones
i make it clear homes
i'm all about how it sounds
i deal with blogger, and my graffiti looks like shit
i dress how i dress, and can't really dance a lick
and the chances are, that this shit will never catch on
but i like my blog, and my friends like my blog
life long... endaevors for the pleasure

the grouch is a fucking genius.

my life is changing.

the upward slope mann. finally my chance for a comeback.

all my life i wanted to flyyyyy
like the burrrrds
that you see
way up in the skyyyyy

so here's the plotline of the last year... i had money then i didn't work for 8 months, then i had no money, then work was slow, and i extra had no money, and now me and money are gonna dance like lovers once again... cuz work is totally picking up.

what people don't know (because it looks extremely ghetto) is that the sign job that i do (and that i'm sure none of you fully understand what it even consists of) pays like so much money it's ridiculous.

so come on people, pull with me nowwww... and stop holding your breath.

i'm a rich man waiting to happen. yes it's true.

the best day of my life was when i figured out people pleasers are total pussies. cuz i used to be one.

now it's like this, oh you don't like the music i'm playing in my truck??? well then save up and buy your own fucking car, my friend. and feel privlidged i took the window lock off.

like really why is other people's happiness any of my business? that's on you sucka. my job is to make sure i am as high and as happy as possible and i do a damned good job of it. but luckily, i'm easy to please.

in fact, the truth is i'm often entertained by people's lack of content. never let me know i have the ability to push your buttons.i'll push your buttons like i was trying to tap out the gettysburg address in morse code.

the people that bore me and never become the butt of my jokes are the people who keep cool as a cucumber no matter what. where's the fun in that? why am i gonna waste my rad disses on you if you don't even act like they're insulting.

poverty is SO HOT right now. and break away pants.

Monday, February 16, 2004

wanna know what i used to be the most insecure about ever? the moles on my face.

i believed deep down in my heart that they made me ugly, and in between 6th and 7th grade i got a bunch removed. the one i had always hated the most was the one on my chin. and in fact, that was one of the moles that grew BACK. those little fuckers.

so yah, i go back to school, and i totally had my story straight on where the moles went, cuz i was SO SURE that everyone was gonna notice and have their 2 cents to chime in with.

but nobody noticed.

and i proved to myself then and there that everyone is as self centered as i am, and completely oblivious to anyone else.

i think that is the weirdest part of insecurities like that. who the FUCK do you think you are? you assume everyone gives a shit about YOU? isn't that a little arrogant to assume shit like that?

it's like how lotsa chicks think that it's bad to be mean cuz they might hurt someone's feelings.
good fucking luck. and who told you people give two shits about what you say? cuz i'm betting they don't.

and now that this post has turned into tangent city, why is being honest often described as being mean? like let's say you have me over to dinner at your mom's house, and the food sucks, i think telling your mom, "mmm mmm that was num num" really just perpetuates the bad food.

maybe if i told her, "hey lady, learn to fucking cook..." she really would listen, and maybe try and work on that shit. i'm not being a meanie... jeeeze.

Saturday, February 14, 2004

there's this old retired fucker who wants to make my job harder.

he drives around apparantly in a hummer and when he sees my signs in the ground feels inclined to go pluck them out, and hide them behind a bush or some shit. GOD FUCKING DAMN I HATE THE ELDERLY!!!!

so yah... it was kinda weird at first, because when isaw my signs in a big pile on the ground, i knew it was sabatoge... i just didn't know who was fucking with me.
i knew it wasn't a competing sign company, cuz when sign guys attack eachother, we don't just pluck the sign... we whip out box cutters and turn the shit into confetti. and the city zoning assholes would just take the sign, and trash it.

whatever fuck them all. i have been hammering my signs as deep as they can go... i wish i had a camera set up to catch his ass touching my sign. if it was my boss... the guy would be in a hospital already.

cuz it's valentines day, and i'm sure the world wants an update.
see the rad thing about actually being me is that not only do all other guys want to be me, but all the ladies love me. sometimes it's a good thing, most of the time it's bad. but this weekend? it's completely meaningless as i sit in my hotel room and watch HBO alone and bored. i ate a french toast slam at denny's this morning, sitting in the smoking section, and watched as the waitresses hang up the valentines day decorations.

grandma take me home.

Thursday, February 12, 2004

ari zone uhhhhh....

that's right. tossed straight back into the mix. like my name was rice chex.

is there NOwhere for a skater stoner to fit in anymore? i guess by the time you're 24 and a half you are suppsed to have out grown such things. but to me, age ain't nothin but a number.

gonna rock twenty dolla pants till the end...

HAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA.... i love that nobody but me and one other person know why i am laughing so hard. and man, i am fucking LAUGHING. but it's more like muahaha that just straight up HAHAHA. figure that one out. blahnt.

ok, so i am looking forward to crap town central, and ready for a 'happening' night on valentines, watching the TBS superstation in my hotel room somewhere. and this time i'm towelling the crack in the door, cuz i don't need to advertizzzze it.

even the sign guy smokes it...

Wednesday, February 11, 2004


dear growers of low grade marijuana,

that's my first question.
i just don't get the point in shitty pot. is it because you like the taste of ass in your mouth? is it because you like a jazillion seeds in the tiniest of nugs? is it because you are capatalizing on the cheap skates out there who are willing to pay $5 for a nickel bag of funk, but really it should be called a nickle bad of fucked.

are you that lazy?
that's my next question...
cuz like i am sure great pot, hightimes magazine centerfold quality style, is not just as simple as throwing some seeds absent mindedly into some soil, and poof you got pot coming out of your ears. it's takes fancy lights, light and dark cycles, knowledge of growing weed, and prolly a green thumb to boot.
last time i checked, the us government don't give a shit if the pot is good or not. so if you're gonna get in just as deep shit for growing and selling the weak, cheapo, seed-infested crap... why not swing for the fences? get up off your ass, and stop with the growing of nasty trees.

(thirdly is the word of the day, might i add...)
have you no self respect?
where is the pride in producing low grade goods? are you proud that your crap is total shit? don't you want to sit there, and look and what you've produced, and say, "this is some goooooooood shit." ?? besides the fact that the better the shit, the easier to sell, and the more profit margin to your benefit...

in a perfect world, only shitty weed would be illegal.

why do girls wear make-up and perfume?

cuz they're ugly and they stink.

Tuesday, February 10, 2004

marc thinks dave looks like weird al. so do i.

so yah people of earth, anti is making a comeback. it's gonna go like 3, 2, 1... detination. cuz i'm about to explode on the scene like my name was mean green.

i can feel it happening all around me. scratching names off the list of people i owe money to is like thousands of pounds being heaved off of my back.

my new favorite thing to do is wondow shop. i look at all the fancy little gadgets they sell at best buy, like the portable dvd player, the coolio laptops, the GPS thingies for your car, radar detectors, palm pilots, dvd burners, and playstation II. the way i see it, i'll be able to start saving up for any and/or all of that shit (aka, have my debts taken care of) in like threeeeeeee tiny more weeks. AND... i don't have to live like a starving stranded monkey in the meantime. that's right... i ate TWICE yesterday.

still thinking about a second part time job just to take care of this massive influx of cash in such a short time with so many days off in between gigs. mo money mo money money

Monday, February 09, 2004


footage of myself being bored in circle k.

so i made it home folks.

and i even have enough scratch left over to buy myself a treat... like maybe a donut.

flying j is my favorite truck stop.

there is some manic hispanic using power tools right outside my window... and i keep unplugging his extension cord, and he keeps going and plugging that shit back in. this time i'm gonna un plug it, and smash it with my mallet, and maybe then he'll get the clue. or maybe i should just go to the 99 cents store and stroll like the big baller that i am.

today's fun fact is that there are over 100 best western hotels in the greater Los Angeles area. look for yourself if you don't believe me.

and i wanted to take a second to shout out to katie hall, who i am sad to say we will not be seeing in hell when we expire. she is heaven bound, and rightly so, because she wrote me while i was in Arizona and stuck for cash, and fucking offered to send me some! i had already figured something out by then, and let her know that it wasn't necessary, but wow.

Saturday, February 07, 2004

i'm so sick of 101.5 the zone. how do you arizonians do it?

this might be my last transmission for a bit seeing as i am one thread away from stranded.


ok so i got ONE night in an actual bed, and was gonna shoot for two, but the front desk of the red roof inn on camelback and 7th ave said, "your shit was declined", and i have like $20 bucks cash... so not only am i sleeping in the truck tonight AGAIN, but i derno if i have enough dinero to get home to LA. awesome! thank god i stole a pillow from the motel room...

can you say western union? i hope fucking someone can, cuz i'm an out of state begger now.

at least i got a big bag of chronic and my shitty little plastic bong thing, that should make me nice and apethetic for a few hours. but what else is new, eh?

and so here i am at the only internet place i know of besides circle k, and they are hooking me up cuz i am getting the celebrity discount, and i wish i had either a cell phone, or a fucking non-maxed out credit card, or some shit.

i think i am gonna go drive everywhere, and try and find that reletive i allegedly have out here, and/or beg for western fusion from everyone who's phone number i can remember. so like... if those two people are broke i'm fucked.

what's up with arizona bloggers? can't they hook a brother up? i'll reciprocate with bonghits!!!!1

i just now decided that i am the stoniest stone that ever stoned. if you disagree go suck a cock.

Friday, February 06, 2004

me and dale earnhardt obviously have a lot in common. we both think a moustache is straight rock and roll, and we sleep in our cars. as i did here in west phoenix, parked ni rfont of a Fry's Grocery store.

i have since then built about 200 signs that i will now litter the city with, mua ha ha.

i was checking in at my sale with the owner, and literally checking in seeing as i was collecting payment, when i saw that they have some kinda internet access place straight across the street. CHA chinggggggg.... and they're letting me use it for free. holy shit balls. what nice MF's.

and thanks to everyone who wrote me... all of who i will link now. krix + xtracyx + Stacey Graham + Lisa B. + Ian Henderson + Kevynn Malone + RN + Nika + Jamie + Michael + Ray

Wednesday, February 04, 2004

ruttedout at email me. everyone. for no real reason other than i am sick of getting zero emails.

write me and tell me how fucking shitty i am. or how awesome i am. or whatever. i'm sure you're all too fucking lazy, and i won't get shit for emails. thanks for nothing. fuck you in advance.

so whats everyone's problem anyways? i know mine. same old problem. money. cash don't rule shit around my ass. cuz there is none.

i was told that i'm an asexual chronic masterbator. i guess that makes perfect sense.

i aim on getting my lowrider bike back, and i will ride it everyday when i do. assuming i can motivate my ass.

cops in the beach cities are such pains in the ass, they have like zero crime rate, so if you get pulled over for say an illegal left turn or some crap, they haul out four or five squad cars, and it's a regular tail gate party. but like man, shouldn't they be writing parking tickets somehwere or fucking hanging out at golden west donuts or some crap?

now that I'm older
stress weighs on my shoulders
heavy as boulders
but I told ya
till the day that I die I still
will be a soldier
and that's all I told ya
and that's all I showed ya
and all this calamity is rippin' my sanity
Can it be I'm a celebrity
whose on the brink of insanity
Now don't be wishin's of switchin' any positions with me
cuz when you in my position, it ain't never easy
to do any type of maintaining
cuz all this gaming
and famin' from entertainin'
is hella strainin to the brain and...
But I can't keep runnin I just gotta keep keen and cunnin'...

From: "Estrada Louis" Add to Address Book
Date: Thu, 5 Feb 2004 02:10:24 +0100

Hello Dear,

My name is {DR. MRS. LUISA. ESTRADA,} the wife of {MR. JOSEPH ESTRADA,} the former President of Philippines.

My husband was recently impeached from office by a Backed uprising of mass demonstrators and the Senate. My husband is presently in jail and facing trial on Charges of corruption, Embezzlement, and the Mysterious charge of plunders which might lead to death sentence. The present government is forcing my husband out of Manila to avoid demonstration by his supporter.

During my husband's regime as president of Philippine, I realized some reasonable amount of money from various deals that I successfully executed. I have Plans to invest this money for my children's future on anything that will be ok for then maybe industrial production. My husband is not Aware of this because I wish to do it secretly for Now.

Before my husband was impeached, I secretly! siphoned the sum of $42.2million USD, Out of Philippines and deposited the money with a security Firm that transports valuable goods and consignments through diplomatic means. I also declared that the Consignment was solid gold and my foreign business Partner owned it and I arranged it very well and put it in a metallic Truck boxes and also made sure it has a security code that no one may Be able to open it if not me that has the security code and the Security Company believe me that it's some valuable Items that I have in it. Even in the Documents it was stated that the Value of it was$42.2 MILLION USD.

I am contacting you because I want you to go to the Security company and claim the money on my behalf Since I have declared that the consignment belong to My foreign business partner. You shall also be required to assist me in investment in your country.

I hope to trust you and I al! so believe that you are the type that a Sister in need could relay on. And I know that you will not sit on this money when you claim it, Rather assist me Properly, I will compensate you with 15% of the total capital after You might have claimed it for me. When I receive your positive response I will let you Know where the security company is and the security pin code to Claim the consignment, which is very important.

For now,all our communication should be on via e-mail ( Because my line are right now connected directly to the Philippines Telecommunication Network services. Please also send me your telephone and fax number and also a letter of assurance so that I will feel free to tell you more about this business.

Then I will open up a communication root between you and the Security Company to handle this transaction.

Hope to hear from you as soon as you get this email so that we can Get started soonest.

Best Regards,

Alternative Email Address:


Tuesday, February 03, 2004

why do i lose my wallet so much? am i retarded?

oh yah i am, i forgot.

but i magically always get it back. knock on wood...

so this time i lost it, apparantly, right next to redondo highscool. and somehow a teacher found it, and not some piece of shit highschool kid, called 411 to get my home number, and hooked that shit back up.

i AM a lucky motherfucker.

Monday, February 02, 2004

i had a friend tell me today, "anti, from now on i'm just gonna listen to you." because i'm always right, and know what to do. it's just the way i stroll it. and actually, it's cuz every-fucking-thing happens to my ass, so i know how to correct the situation.

see homie lost the keys to the honda, right? so man, who's got the answer? me.

"why not call a fecking locksmith?"

"it's more complicated that that, i'd have to break in, take out the lock from the glove box, and take it to the dealership..."

"um no... call triple A. they hooked me up a key, and paid most of th costs..."

so i come over to offer assistance, and the locksmith arrives, gets the car open, and we chill inside to avoid the rain. that's just when homie's frind calls and says that so-and-so has the keys, and we jam out to CANCEL the locksmith... and we were just in time.

but now the person who called isn't answering, and we need that cars keys like yesterday, so i suggest we go back to plan A, since the car is now unlocked. and we get that lock out, and homie gets a bright idea.

NOTE TO READER: this is officially where homie SHOULD have listened to anti.

and homies bright idea is that we lock the car. i say, "no that's retarded because we're gonna get the key made right away yes... but we don't have the key yet." but homie wouldn't listen and it wasn't until after we were locked out of the car did we realize that the interior dome light was on, and now the battery was gonna get drained, so we booked it and headed to scott robinson honda, but on the way we called and found out that we were too late, and then we magically got a call from so-and-so who had the keys, and figured out a way to get them asap. wich was an hour away.

btw, i don't mention i had 8, yes EIGHT semesters of woodshop in highschool enough. basically there wasn't a day in highschool that went by where i didn't have woodshop at least once a day. preferably twice a day. so i am extremely resourceful when it comes to getting shit done.

and i manufacture this rad little door opener device out of a coat hanger, and get that shit creeped in there fish hook style and pulled up on the lock, and PRESTO... anti fixed the problem. cuz imma trouble shooter, baby. i fucking get paid the big bucks to defuse situations. or will get paid the big bucks eventually. believe that.

ok so now that i scraped enough resin and caught a mild head change from it, i feel that i can write and write.

i like to just type whatever and never really stop typing or check for typos or any of that crap, i gotta purge these thoughts fast before they dry up and fly away

oh yah and tell your mom, anti says, "thanks for last night"...

i'm fucking out of cash even though i worked, because this playing catch up shit is killing me. how can i be making so much cash, and STILL be making back payments on everything from rent to the phone to credit cards, yah yah blah blah.

tonight i shall roam the streets of orange county "installing" signs. the cool illegal style again. i staple the signs literally to every single fucking thing i can. they say, "we buy houses" i'll pop off some pics tonight. but what i do is, i basically listen to the radio for so many hours that i can repeat to you almost any los angeles area radio commercial by heart. everything from sit n' sleep the mattress susperstore, or the bail guy commercials, to the viagra commercials and robbins bros. wedding engagement ring stores ads.

can everyone on the radio please stop talking about the NFL halftime show? i didn't watch the game i was working, and even if i did watch the game i sure as fuck would have not watched the half time show. superbowl isn't about the game or what team you like or what commercials were teh funniest....
it's fucking about partying, being drunker than the next guy, and crashing parties. am i wrong? AM i wrong?

the stench of the homeless people i hire everyweekend to hold signs on the street corner is offically taking over my car. at least that's my excuse.

ok i need a cigarette and shit. maybe i'll be back.

i'm a talk radio junky. and it's getting worse. now i listen to KFI AM640. askdjaklsjdalj

Sunday, February 01, 2004

this is why i am what you find when you look up cool in the dictionary.

when you do a sign job... you never really stop working.

like when i started on friday... i showed up at 7am, and worked until about 9pm.

14 solid hours of hussle, got me?

so the next day was more mellow, only 7am - 6pm... 11 hours.

and today i woke up at 8am... and got dicked by the marathon or whatever it was in front of my house... and have to go back to the job at 9 tonight (in an hour) and clean up the rest of my signs. and i might get home by 10... let's just call that 12 hours. for a total of 37 hours in three days.

ok ok....

you guys know the truth, i cannot tell a lie.

i am not actually WORKING during all these 37 hours.
sometimes i am sleeping in my car, or wandering aimlessly in the nearest mall, or basically just sitting on my ass.
BUT STILL... you try and spend that much time in your car and not go completely insane!!!

fat fucking chance, you bunch of cocksuckers.


i'm being held captive in my driveway until 10am because of the 10K run they decided to have in front of my house.

fucking false imprisonment!!!!!!!!!1


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Tony Pierce