Anti abandons the internet.

it's finally over, thank fucking god.

Wednesday, June 30, 2004

telemarketers are an evil bunch. i mean, who do they think they are?

they think they call at "a decent hour" they think they aren't totally invading my private space and time.

like for instance, when you hear an ad on TV or the Radio, well it was your choice to tune in, and therefore your choice to view the ads... AND AT ANY POINT YOU CAN TURN off THE TV OR RADIO, AND THE ADS WILL NOT DISTURB YOU. oops, sorry... cap locks...

but these pricks with their little telephones, and MY NUMBER on their little list.. they take away my choice. they trick me. and i fucking hate them for it.

listen to my man Jimmy fuck with them. you'll love it.

anyways, i think if these guys were to knock on my door, they'd better be ready to run, cuz i will chase them down, and beat them senseless if they tried that. and what makes calling my house and LEAVING ME VOICEMAILS, think it's any less punishable?

i think i hate telemarketers more than i hate cops.

telemarketers are why i used to answer the phone, "Bueno!", because most of those tele-assholes don't know spanish, and it was an easy way to get them off my jock. (pre-caller ID days, of coarse)

my crazy sister carri, she loves telemarketers. she swithces her long distance company like once a month, and collects tons of coolio deals and offers they give away, like an AM/FM radio, or a free ball point pen. she trips me out though, cuz how does she not go mental when they call her while she's watching a tv show, or eating, or making out with her husband.

there's some "do not call list" allegedly, and that was sposed to make it so they never called and bugged you, but they still do. i had a friend say, "oh word up, just say 'i'm on the do not call list' and they hang up faster than speedy gonazalez"
but fuck that. i don't want the phone to ring in the first place. ringing phones are the devil.

pretty poems | After The Debauchery | true

jey leno is better when he's on mute. like how i have him... right now.

i'd rather listen to the pharcyde anyways.

so i have tons of pot, and tons of money, and tons of time off work. what more could a stoner wish for? pizza? i got that too.

i miss pizza pizza

tomorrow imma drink and lay around, maybe even lay in the cancerous sun on my deck for a minute. smoking a cigarette.

i haven't gotten new shoes in over a year. maybe i should get some new kicks.

Tuesday, June 29, 2004

ok so i had to buy a new glass bowl, a task i have to do from time to time.

but this time i went a little fancier, and bought a colored pyrex style one. it's red, and when you pack the bud inside, it looks all christmassy.

but here's my thing, what's with people tripping out on my ID. i know i have a baby face, and look and dress young, and can be mistakenly thought to be a lot younger than my actual age of 25.

but stop it with the, "this ID is a fake" crap, cuz i just want what i am legally entitled to buy. and today it was a new bowl for my fucking bong.

but the guy was cool, and hooked me up with a bowl that was made by an "apprentice" (aka rookie) and therefore only cost me ten bones.

ok lemme giver a test run...

ok i think it works good. tra la la, i'm stoned. what was i talking about? who cares...

Cab Driver Confessional | dick | ames

thank god i have all this time off work, i think i love doing nothing more than i should.

literally doing NOTHING.

like while i'm at work i have all these big plans for the days off. and i tell myself that i'm gonna finally wash my truck, and i'm gonna do all this crazy bank stuff, and deal with the dirty laundry pile that has consumed my closet.

although, i end up sitting in my underwear, all day.

but the day isn't wasted, cuz i don't care about a clean truck, and fuck my laundry, and the people at the bank piss me off.

welcome wendy

whitey told me he got a speeding ticket on his way to arizona last friday... he said he was beating off while driving, and lost his focus, and the cop clocked him at 95MPH. go white-bag! anyways, i guess the cop didn't even trip out that whitey's shirt was off, and his pants were un done. and that's only funny to me i guess, cuz whitey would have his pants off and shirt off even if he wasn't jerking it. that fucking allergic to his own sweat weirdo.

if i had a choice between: falling asleep with a q-tip in my ear, and rolling over on it...

or, answer a call from a blocked number and risk talking to someone i don't like...

well im sure the q-tip won't do THAT much damage.

i love when the cigarette gets stuck to my face like that.

the reason i don't cook my own food is cuz i don't do my own dishes, and therefore, it's really a preventative measure to make sure i don't have to throw away perfectly good silverware, and dishes and junk, because once it's moldy i don't give a fuck anyways, i can predict the future of any plate with food left on it in my house. it will be flung down the garbage shoot.... eventually.

it's getting too hot to sleep comfortably. i need shit to be COLD, get me? but luckily NyQuil needs nothing, except to be drunk'd.

and after seeing michael moore's movie, and being ashamed of america, and disgusted with the bush administration, i can only wonder...

does the world hate america or americans? or is there even a difference?

this is my earth, my turff.

i've found myself extremely irritable lately, like... that's just so not me. im mr. mellow-pants.

anyways having the 4th of july weekend off work, and being able to be a drunken soldier on a piece of wood and four polyurethane wheels... that might ease up my attittude.

july fourth on the hermosa beach strand used to be cooler, though.

i heard you can't even walk down the strand with a 40 and a blunt no more. how unamerican.

i'll find a way.

i'm really too strung out from 4 days of non stop sign jobbing to think properly. i'll feel better tomorrow after i skate and cash my small fortune of a pay check.

i have this new weird habbit too that i have picked up from the sign job. see... i spend so much time in these shit hole towns with nothing to offer that i end up just loitering at 7-11 or at jack in the box. so anyways, when i am off work, if i space out for a second, the next thing i know i'm in a drive through for taco bell... and of coarse i feel dumb, so i order something, usually just a pop or maybe a water.

i'm gonna chainsmoke in my bed, even though that is a fire hazzard, cuz i'm wreckless, and i do it every night anyways.

Monday, June 28, 2004

who's house?
anti's house.

i will be in the fine c(sh)ity of hemet, california all day dealing with dirty little signwalkers and scribbling mindless rants in my spiral notebook.

there's not one sign in my truck right now. i forgot what it loooooked like whit no signs innit. it looks.... well it looks fucking filthy as hell. but i haven't seen it with no signs in at least a month.

so yah hemet california is farrr, and HOT, and ugh, but it'll be easy money, and i'll be rich soon. sorta.

that is, if i don't blow it all on sex, drugs, and rock and rollio.

right now me and whitey and are drinking heinikens, and whitey is trying to call 1-800-44-STERN, cuz he wants to brainstorm with howard. i don't think he'll get through.

so i'm gonna smoke the days last cigarette, flat on my back, with an ashtray balanced on my chest... with the radio on.

whitey just pulled the old, "oh yah i'm sleeping here, cuz i don't wanna drive buzzed" aka invite yourself, AKA no problemo white-pages.

aka i knew damn well as soon as he asked me where the capn morgans was, same old story, nothing ever changes. at least that's what i only heard.

i'm caught in the grip of the city... madness

being hip sucks.

if you wanna be cool... be cool because you are helplessly and shamelessly LAME. not because you have on the right outfit, and fucking pu - lease, who are you fooling, you make everything suck.

or better yet it is easier to say you suck the fun out of everything cool. or fun.

i suggest you take lessons in lame-ness from me, cuz i'm the master. some argue i invented it.

i wear goofy sunglasses, rock the bed head, i have a geeky website, and man, i'm a loser for like ten millions reason, but i am a proud one.

my motive is everything. all i want is what i like, and i like whatever the fuck i want. you can't tell me or sway me to like something. i mean, i just don't care how much something sucks, i'm only trying to make sure that i'm impressed with myself, and i only do so by making sure i'm as stoked as possible.

i could make it into a religion, for lames that can't figure otu how not to be pretentious contrived overeducated underexperienced dickweeds that make you want to fucking go stab happy.

Sunday, June 27, 2004


im ccalling it quits on this caffiene-train of a day. and the vicoden i swiped off of tanky (yoink!) i gonna bring me down nice and gentle, so i can wake up ready to rock out with my cock out.

or something like that.

i figured out that i smoke about a pound and a half of weed a year. or another way to put it, i could be rich if i wasn't a stoner.

Saturday, June 26, 2004

my crazy cousin

i sweat so much, i'm saltier than a french fry from mickey-Dee's

you know life is good when you hit the sepulveda pass on the 405, and suddenly you find out that the freebird solo just started on the classic rock station. pedal. to the. metal.

imma innovator, i have my own style, i have no concept of kilometers, ask me about a mile.

that's not a freeway, silly reader, that's a race track with slow moving vehicles as "obstacles" and i'm gonna win the race. oh and fuck you cars in the fast lane that are going slow, who died and made YOU the speed monitor?

there's this fancy art museum called the John Paul Getty Center right there. and when raymi was in LA, and we drove past that shit, i said, "hey check it out, that's the getty center" but she didn't hear me right, and thought i said "the betty center" wich she interpreted as "the betty ford clinic" and then she thought i was threatening to take her there. she was wrong.

aiight, i gotta go get busy, and brush this dirt of mah shouldahs.

today i brought a pillow from my couch, so that i can be more comfy when i nap in the back of my truck.

one of my signwalkers got complained about, becaus i put him in front of a competitor car dealership, and dude was going in there, and taking such nasty dumps, that the whole showroom stunk.



so yah, imagine being my client, and fielding THAT call.

"yah you have this guy in front of our store holding a sign, and welp, we dont care about that, he could be holding five signs for all we care, but he has a health problem, and now our showroom smells like ass..."

Thursday, June 24, 2004

i like going to Plan B. usually whatever plan A was.... was shitty anyways.

so plan B is instead of one easy breezey job in Los Angeles, i get TWO easy breezey jobs in LA. and walk away with a small fortune.

so i got my truck loaded to capacity with cora-plast signs, i got my pubes trimmed down, and i have on clean socks.

i think i'll be making more than twice what i'd be pulling in hell centro, and with 100% less hell. i mean, i'll still be done with work tomorrow night reletively early. early enough to at least hassle strangers at the local bar.

whitey's heade back to phoenix. and he told me this story abotu last weekend...

it turns out him and i are totally banned from the red roof inn on 51st and Mcdowell.

whitey walked in, and tried to get a room, and they told him that he had to leave the premises IMMEDIATELY, and then got mad at him for "not walking straight out the drive way" and sent security to follow him to his truck, and make sure he left.

dude, hwat'd we do?! i can only think of two possible things... the weed (cuz AZ has crazy weed laws, six weeks jail time for a tiny amount), or the crazy insence burner contraption thingy i made (fire hazzard).

i love being banned.

this dude has my back

so jaimie has this friend named reflex, or rolex, or rolladex, whatever...

anyways, jamie was saying this is just some normal non-blogger friend of his, who reads his site from time to time, and jamie was telling him about his trip to San Fran, and then down to Los Angeles to visit me.

an anyways, i was totally flattered that jamie's buddy's reaction was, "OH SHIT! you're gonan have SO MUCH fun!!" because... what the fuck, i can think of far worse things said behind my back.

i keep trying to smoke a cigarette, but,

i wanna smoke it right after my bong hit, but,

i am so high that YES i still want to smoke a cigarette, but,

i just forget...
to light a butt.

so here's goes one more. *taking bong hit*

fuck it let's make it two... *takes another*

now i have the recessed filter of a parliament light hanging in my mouth, and the keyboard is making that clikity clackity i find so soothing. and i want to brag to the world about how good i got it this weekend.

no el centro, no arizona, in fact... i have the closest job in the whole sign company.

South LA formerly known as South Central, and i'll be done with work, driving home listening to tom leykis prolly by 3 or 4pm. a sign guys wet dream.

not to mention i barely have to lift a finger on saturday, and sunday i only work in the evening.

my sakteboard is treating me well, and my legs are completely broken back in. all the rust has shaken off my bones. hopefully whitey and i have time to bomb marine and sepulveda before he takes off to arizona tomorrow.

it's just a blog

the backyard

i like george carlin has spent his life pondering such things as "why do they call toilet paper 'bathroom tissue' on tv commercials?". i once saw him live at the bally's in vegas. he's also cool for being in the bill and ted's movies.

my friendster testimonials.

Kendell, 05/22/2004:
stone cold fox

Shaun, 05/06/2004:
i owe this guy a ton for bailing me out at the bookies. somehow he convinced them a 12 of the champagne of beers would suffice. and what testimonial would be complet without shameless self promotion?

Kenneth, 05/05/2004:
anti is ok.

FinalGirl, 04/09/2004:
Anti is like what happens when you start off thinking you're going to have a really good night cause your homie has VIP passes to some really hot nightclub? But then the VIP line is even too goddamn long so you decide to have drinks around the corner and it turns out that Mike Patton and Mos Def are performing at a venue with max capacity set at like 75 so you elbow your way up front and the hypeman for the whole event passes you a blunt and at the end of the night you get like totally laid by the hot bartender who gave you a free shot. The bartender tells you your fortune before cooking you breakfast, cleaning your kitchen and leaving. If that night was a person? It'd be Anti.

Jen, 04/05/2004:
Anti writes about things I know nothing about, so I consider him an educational resource. He called me the most useful of all the Transformers! The finest compliment I've ever received from a stranger who is, in fact, nicer than I thought. I'm pro-Anti, who's with me?

Rosina, 03/30/2004:
Anti is king in his own little world... but it's a place i like to visit from time to time. he's got a method for the madness.

Rn, 02/27/2004:
Anti is one of those guys you'll see on the milk carton one day and be like "Dang! That boy is the shiznit!" - well.. the ladies would say that, and weep for missed Anti hours of pleasure, lust and junk like that. This man here is bullet proof when it comes to insults, and he'll crack you up. Funny guy. *tears* I'm going back to my oat meal now.

Jack, 02/11/2004:
So I found this thousand dollar bill, right... and I'm playing with it... and Anti is like "Hey man, can i see that for a sec..." and starts grabbing at it... so I'm like "See it with your eyes, not with your hands maaaaan...", and Anti starts going on about "Cmoonnnn just let me hold it for a sec..." And his deceptivly honest face makes me give in... so I hand it to him. Then I say "Now give it back..." and he look sat me, casually lights up his cigar and says... "Give what back?"

Bunny, 01/27/2004:
Anti is the hottest sex I've never had.

Meg, 12/29/2003:
disarmingly, and charmingly, non- pretentious. listened to me prattle on drunkenly the first time we hung out; when i passed out, he covered me w/a blanket. i can only hope the gap in my teeth is as fetching as his.

FinalGirl, 12/10/2003:
i told this cat i thought he was sexy once. know what he said back? not a goddamned thing. my god i haven't seen chillin like that since max julien in "the mack". cooler than ice cubes and ready with realism. plus he looks a bit like the keanu. ummm. yum.

Ryan, 12/09/2003:
I'd make out with him in probably under 6 seconds. As long as that didn't make me gay.

Katie, 11/07/2003:
anti has the best online manners of anyone Ive ever met. online. its 1 am and IM watching growing pains, i'd like to think anti would watch it with me and we could compare carol seever to kimmy gibbler. and then toast to the fat white kid on the cosby show.

Andrea, 09/10/2003:
Hi. Anti eats doo doo and drinks pee.

Bernie Lomax, 08/07/2003:
about the only kid i've bumped into that as laid back as myself. keep up the good work bro, or lack there of. although he blogs far too much for my own personal tastes, he cracks me up with the shit he writes. so knock one back for big bad anti or choke one or smoke one... whatever. audi5000

Katrin, 08/07/2003:
Anti er sætur og skemmtilegur:)

Whitey, 08/04/2003:
johnny, lets dive across country non stop and sell the car to party. sounds good well than ill meet you in new orleans next tuesday(12th). ill be hanging from a light won't be able to miss it. my car will be sold by then

John, 08/03/2003:
Though I've only known Anti just under a year, I'ts long enough to know Anti's a super cool person to have as a friend. He can tell ya like it is, then turn around and have you laughing your ass off. But one thing's for sure, when times turn to shit you can count on him to be there.

Raymi, 08/03/2003:
anti is my chico latino and everybody must acknowledge this. one time he took off all his clothes at my dad's place and just like, stood there and i was all like dude you might want to put those back on but he didnt and then he laughed at me. no one else was around to see him but the cat. meow meow. anti's cute as hell, with or without his mullet.

Jamie, 08/02/2003:
Anti's a cool guy to have as a friend as long as you don't mind all of the girls you know asking about him all the time and telling you how hot he is and shit. And you also better be ready to get your ass kicked royally in the mini-golf department. But it's all worth it because he'll make you laugh like a motherfucker. Can I say motherfucker on this thing? I think so, I mean, I just did...Motherfucker.

Percocet Pete, 07/31/2003:
John-John is a fucking prince. The kid is ridiculously zen, drives a nice truck, and has a big camera....HE is the nigga that I would trust with my wallet, my girlfriend, and my girlfriend's wallet. Straight up, dude has heart the size of Toronto, and for all I've seen him do, you would be mega-lucky to have him as yer friend. Man, IF & when i get this money, you know yer lettin kme sleep on yer couch and chauffering me around LA. Stay Black.

Stephanie, 07/31/2003:
Anti has been a close comrade for some time now. He has been there for the ups; for the downs. We have laughed; we have cried. We have tried to stay away from the cyanide (but you know how it is....). ANYHOW - he beats off a lot, but i still love him. LIKE A BROTHER!!!!!

Martin, 07/31/2003:
John is pretty cool. If you ever want to get in trouble, lost, migrate outta town suddonly, or just wanna get really loaded... Drop Dicey John a line. If he can't help you personally, SOMEONE WILL!

Wednesday, June 23, 2004

people come up to me, and they say, "hey fella, why you so mad?"

here's the thing, i'm not fucking mad, i'm fucking hysterically pissed off.

so there i was, sitting in my piece-of-shit-el-centro-hotel-room when my cousin caroline from chicago calls me in the middle of the night, DRUNK off her ass, to tell me that she saw my dad the previous day.

and taht it was weird, and uncomfortable. and that my dad was prying. digging for goods on me. goods on me that i SPECIFICALLY ASK ALL MY FAMILY not to reveal to him. cuz he lost the right.

well she said she was getting asked what i loooook like, what my hair is like, what kinda person am i.... HAH!

if he only knew i have this little soap box to stand up, and spread the news, and the news is FUCK YOU DAD, cuz old news is new news when you want it to be.

and my OTHER cousin mike, he told my dad straight up, "anti's pissed. he feels like you fucked him over, and he doesn't want shit to do with you till you fix that shit."

so my ada starts in with his usual business lingo or pass-the-buck tactics--
but mike is a business owner now. mike knows NOW more than ever how business ownership mean ultimate responsibility for what goes down.

and ok LET"S PLAY PRETEND FOR A SECOND PEEEEEEEEEOPLE: let's pretend my dad's accountant who he had for over 25 years "accidentally" mixed up myyyy social security number with my dad's... and let's PRE-fucking-TEND that my dad didn't notice the slip up when he signed under my name (the same name as his) and in effect stole my identity. let's preeeeeetrend it was all nice and fun-n-games and "oops we made a boo boo"

that's STILLLL his fucking company and i'm still his "son" (notice the quote marks on that little bitch of a word), so why would he hang me out to dry??? and now that he allegedy "needs" his family at this, this time of urgency in his life... and allegedly finds out how to fix things with me (although he knew how the whole time), and still....

he'd rather hassle caroline to find out what my hair style might be like.

what a human turd.

my dad had his last chance to see me a few years ago, and he WILL die without me ever saying good bye or any of that shit, and that's fine with me.

i said good bye a long time ago.

my shoulder is all FUCKED UP again, i can't seem to get a good night's sleep, and my stomach pangs with hunger. i think i even have to take a dump.

my house is a fucking gross pig stye... and my moood is fuck you, fuck the world, and most importantly fuck people who read blogs. yes you.

see? people suck. i hate all of them. i hate the one's who ask stupid questions. i hate the one's who think they're better than me. i hate the people that are fat and/or ugly. and i think i wanna KILLL anyone in my way at a mall or like... even the fucking grocery store.

everyone sucks because they are self centered little dirty dogs smelling their own ass all day. they think they are the bright shiny center of the universe and that we're all in orbit around them.

know what happens when a person sees someone who needs help and they know they can help that person out??? well tuff shit for the guy-in-need, he's fucked, cuz the person who can help is on his way to starbucks, and fuck that... you don't fuck with a man's latte schedule.

i want to get in my truck, get on the busiest freeway i can find, and just start ramming EVERYONE. god that would feel so great. the dumber you look, the harder i smack my half ton pick up into you passenger side door, you empty skulled bringer of frustration.

i think i need to live unabomber style in the forest for a while. someplace where i don't have to drive up next to someone in my truck, honk my horn to get their attention, and give them the "hang up your stupid-fucking-cell-phone and DRIVE" hand gestures.
(wich consists of making a fist, and then extending your thumb and pinky and putting it to your ear, and then acting like you are hanging up a phone, and then make steering gestures with the same hand.)

have you ever been waiting for an elevator, and the down arrow is lit up, and some person walks up and pushes it again. do they think it's gonna make it go faster? or are they just totally up their own ass? why can't you just walk around tazering people?

if you leave me a comment today, and it's not funny... then i now hate you the most.

what IS boyfriend material anyways? and should i be glad that i'm not it??

is it living paycheck to paycheck, and occationally getting so broke you have to beg strangers from the innernet to paypal you? (thanks btw, to all those nice donation ppl)

are you boyfriend material if you sit in your house all day so stoned you lack the motivation to keep up with proper hygene?

know what makes a bad girlfriend? lotsa things.

every once in a while i'll meet a chick who wants to "whip me into shape" and correct all those little things i do that she thinks are fucking irritating.

well what she is too naive to realize is, i am me. MEEE. i gotta be me. that's all i know how to be.

so take me or leave me, and hopefully you leave, cuz who the fuck are you to try and change me.

to be a real man is to be cold and cut-throat when you need to be, and prolly not a lot of girls have what it takes to turn it off at the end like us boys do. it's part of the boys-don't-cry shit that's built into our brains i think.

fast times, money spent like water, and infinite meaningless encounters with random girls you know nothing about. ahhh the american dream, right? mebbe.

when you do a justin timberlake image search, you get a close up pic of my stomach and underwear showing up. weird.

Tuesday, June 22, 2004

i skated up the street to the post office to fetch my birthday present from a dear friend, and some old haired jerface started to lecture me about how i shouldn't be "skating in traffic like that"

i asked him what the fuck he was talking about and he goes, "oh you weren't taht kid skating in traffic on PCH?"

"no i've only been skating on catalina av..."

the good news is i begged hard enough to get out of going to el centro this weekend. can i getta amen?

so i had to pull teeth to get him to come over, but my friend dave is on his way over for bong hits.

i guess that means his girlfriend isn't on gaurd. she thinks i am satan hisself.

i don't really understand why though. SHE says it's cuz everytime i have ever come over to their house i had a different girl with me, and that when i have been out with them, i'll do stupid shit like try and get dave to check out the hot chick i noticed walking on the street.

you can't get mad at a dog for barking, right? it's what dogs do. so then why get mad at ME for being a man.

shit... i gotta be me.

sometimes i wonder if she hates me because i make not having a girlfriend look a lot cooler than having one. but shit, that's not ME doing that. single life just looks greener than the grass on YOUR side of the fence.

well anyways, i think this is the first time that my friend i've had since highschool, and who literally lives within 5 minutes walking distance, are gonna hang out in the year 2004.

anyways, i think dave's girlfriend is nice. i think she's a little overly jealous, and perhaps, blames me for things that are either not my fault or totally innocent. but... she means well.

Monday, June 21, 2004

ahhhh... to be young dumb and careless in your native land. america can get on it's knees and play me like a saxamaphone.

and it usually does.

i come from a family that taught the virtue of having your shit in someone else's name, and how being invisible to the government (aka, having no paper trail) is the most ideal way to conduct business.

steet smarts outweighs college degrees tenfold, cuz all my college losers friends with degrees got no job. all college taught them was how to put a million wutang posters on their walls and and smoke weed and play guitar. but i knew how to do that anyways, so fuck college.

i say play by your own rules, and get away with anything you can. i got a package from canada waiting for me at the redondo beach post office. i am realllly hoping for contraband. is there any?

i reject reality, and substitute it with my own.

imagine how awesome life can be when you are the bright shining center of the universe, and everything wrong in your life is "their" fault.

i'm kinda impressed that this one dude is gonna go solo to panama. i think i read some place that he put's the "anal" in the panama canal. but anyways, i've traveld a few places all by myself, and i think it totally kicks ass. compromises are for pussies.

angelina and jamie and me

so whitey and i are getting on the 101 freeway west from the 405 south, and we see this crazy awesome thing in the distance. i think i remember it from that movie "thrashin", but either way we need to get to it, so we can skate it, like immediately.

then i got to my bank. i have major problems with banks. first this guy cuts in line in front of me, and is an asshole about it.

"dude, you just cut in front of me in line..."

"um, you were over there... Duuuuude"

well fuck that guy, i tried to just be the better person, even though i was tempted to get in my car and follow him to his house and have whitey and i beat the shit out of him with our 3 pound mallets.

but no i just stood there, casting a madam cleo style gyspy-spell on his head.

but then the teller wants to put a one day hold on my check, and i got so motherfucking-pissed my hand was shaking as i snatched the check out of his hand and told him to fuck off. and said, "praise allah" when i got to my car and smoked the buddha. i think i fucking hate hawthorne savings. i want this bank. i wish i could just get payed in cash, like my signwalkers.

so now i just drove OUT OF MY WAYYYYY to valley to try and "get to my bank before it closes" and they fucking screw me.

i hate money.

so i'm gonna go skating tonight. nothing like losing your mind gliding 3 inches off the ground down the steepest hill you can find. i haven't fallen in a while, i think i'm due.

i stand corrected. imperial valley DOES have it's own tv local news. they just don't have any news, so they interviewed the guy who runs church's chicken. i hate church's... that shits so greasy nasty, even WHITEY hates it.

i was captivated by it's wayne's-worldish-ness. oh, and the anchor chick was a smokin' hottie.

the four largest buildings in el centro are Wal-Mart, Target, Home Depot, and.... Costco Wholesale. the tattoo parlor is bigger than the library, and the police station has graffiti on it.

i felt like an inbedded blogger.

i love driving west into the sun during sunset.

sure.... who doesn't love giving themselves a headache, because they can't see through the fucking bugs and dust and dirt and shit? everyone LOVES that shit.

and of coarse you have to add the extra bonus of going through a windy piece of shit mountain range that makes it so you can't just hold still and get the sun in that one safe spot behind the visor. sometimes iiiiiit's behind the visor, sometimes it's in your face, sometimes it's in between the visor and the mirror and you can't move your head out of the way in time and you claw out your eyes screaming totally unaware that your car is coasting into the large 18 wheel big rig truck in the lane next to you.

i don't believe in god. but i would pretend to if i got a job close to home. i'm still strung out from driving.

si this is the second time el centro somehow consumed a signwalker.

the last time it was hector. he disapeared from his spot, and the people who drove him there from 3 hours away had to leave without him.

well this time we KNOW the cops gots steve, it's just a bummer that suzie and cesar had to leave hell centro w/out him.

i put steve to work, and noticed withing seconds that he had lost his mind. i've seen crazy people before, and this guy had lost it.

he was already replaced and everything, and then i guess, he hitchhiked over to where cesar was signwalking... well cesar is a good worker, and knew i'd fire him AND suzie if this steve guy fucked things up, so he called the cops, and they came and picked up steve, but for some reason they let him loose down by the k-mart. that's where suzie could keep an eye on him, sorta, and make sure he wasn't going anywhere near the sale.

well i guess steve couldn't resist being a totally scary psychopath, and ran up on a car with a family inside, and was frantically grabbing at the door to get in, and screaming about being in the water.

it WAS like 106 degrees (F), so i undersatnd the water thing....

but either way the cops were pissed when they picked him up again, and now i wonder how likely steve will get befriended by the el centro blue tarp posse.

btw, i'm home.

Friday, June 18, 2004

this is an audio post - click to play

Thursday, June 17, 2004

i type this with my hair wet, and only my pants on.

i have minutes left before i drive like a maniac outta town. i just got off the phone with whitey, he's in AZ already, and trev-dawg said he'd hit up whitey's cell phone, and sssssstuff, cuz whtitey's an out of towner. no i won't take it personal that all the AZ bloggers snub me when i go to their town, but then again. i ain't no whitey.

whitey and i already decided that cuz we're both lone wolves this weekend, we will communicate via cell phone to each other as often as possible. we are eachother's sanity clause.

today was a sad day too, cuz i had to see a friend suffer, and be able to do little to nothing to help. it's big t, and her tooth is giving her grief, but the poor thing has no dental insurance, and no $$$.

we tried going to harbor UCLA, the free/cheap hospital, cuz she was gonna just get the tooth yoinked outta her head. and they sent us someplace else.

so in the meantime i called my mom, who thinks bigT is just delightful, and she kicked down the pain pills.

after that bigT was just a looped-out little ball on the living room floor. i betcha she's still righhhht there. good luck with the ghetto-dentists tomorrow, bigtanky.

this is my last chance to blog until i return, but i am very excited about this brand new yellow spiral notebook i found on the street... just sitting there, waiting to be filled up.

so now i have a place to journal all weekend, and pen and paper journals are always the coolest the end.

my truck smells like a rotten chicken-fried-steak that i forgot was in there from last week. seriously, you'd think something died in there... YA I CAN"T WAIT TO SPEND ALLLLLL FUCKING WEEKEND IN THERE

i'm stopping at the head shop before i skip town to grab insence, fuck this.

fuck. 4in the morning and it's too hot in here to sleep.

besides i have racing thoughts. i'm prodging.

dear los angeles,

helllllo city i was born and raised in. i have to leave you for a weekend. i'm headed to the border of california, a town called hell centro.

and lemme tell ya, los angeles, it's got nothing on you. the ONE pithy freeway they have only has two lanes in either direction. TWO! there's parts of the 405, and 110 freeways where you have 7 fucking lanes in one direction. i think you can tell a lot about how many lanes a town's freeway has. 2 or less = butthole-ville.

but i don't need to stroak YOUR ego, oh city that i adore. el centro even plays your tv chanels. it's too small to have it's own thing, so i get the weather and news from ABC LA, CBS LA, and NBC LA local news broadcasts in my hotel room. makes me homesick. sorta.

why can't el centro be more el centralized to where *I* live?. it's like... the el centro of what?

well, don't let the weather be so nice that i have to be jealous while i'm away (cuz el centro will be desert devil winds, ORRR heat from hell) and take care of my friends, show them why LA is so top notch.

your friend,

whitey's all juiced up and ready to go. he came over, and i pep talked him about the signs, and told him all the last little secrets i could think of. i even hooked him up a home depot shopping list.

in typical sign job fashion whitey will be missing some girl back in santa cruz where he lives. he had planned on going to a show with her on saturday night. and the sign job is like the kinda job that pays so well, even if you hate the idea of going to phoenix

or in my case el centro

you just gotta buck up, and make your money.

tomorrow i'll pick up whitey from his house, and we'll go run our bank errands together, since he's an east west bank virgin, and those barely-english-speaking assholes like to hassle us cuz we're trying to cash thousands of dollars, for the signwalker's payroll.

i leave los angeles in 23 hours.

Wednesday, June 16, 2004

i have a little over 24 hours left in los angeles before i have to head off to hell centro, and star in my re-occuring movie role... "dances with signs".

and i have so much shit left to do!! in a perfect world i'd do laundry, car wash, bank, and pack my clothes. i'll prolly only have time for the bank. and i hate the bank.

bigtanky was in serious pain today, so i kicked down my advil gelcaps, cuz they work better than her alieve. i reccomend them to everyone.

just called whitey and found out he is at my boss's house being breifed on his sign mission this weekend in arizona. go whitey! he's prolly headed here after for the usual just-skipped-into-town bong-oplympics.

i hope we have time go bomb some hills on our skateboards. i think i know a few steep ones we can hit up in manhattan beach...

WHOA HOLY SHIT! there was some knocking at my door, so i got sketched out and hid my bong really fast, and whipped open the door to find some dude asking me for a signature, so that he could drop off a package for anti.

"i'm anti!" i tole em...

and thatnk you so much Laura Petrie, aka pogeybait, aka Pokey, aka blackie's mama, aka founder of hoo-ha.

i love my new Toxic Avenger DVD.

ehhh, it's kinda gloomy today. but im going skating anyways.


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Tony Pierce