Greetings from the Left Coast

May 27, 2009

Mis hermanos!

And ladies, I don’t wish to discriminate none. Hope y’all are having a dandy ole Memorial Day week – Tony always extends holidays to an entire week of celebratory fun because I am all about the fun. Especially when the fun = the ladies.

Hey guess what? I’m in Los freaking Angeles. Man, you never saw a city more full of deviants than good old L.A. I’m not kidding, for every one normal person in L.A. there are about eighteen freaking deviants or perverts. What a fucking excellent place! I wouldn’t want to live here full time or nothing because I’d like to keep what’s left of my soul intact in case I’m wrong and there is a heaven after all. But the city of angels is trying its best to lure it out of me.

Firstly its good points are as follows; lots of babes not wearing much in the clothing department. This is always a good development even when they’re of the ridiculous variety like a lot of the chicas here. Big everything. Big hair, big racks, big tans, big egos. Crazy.

I’m a little more picky (no really I am). I like a little junk in the trunk. These skinny ladies with the xylophone ribs don’t do it for me. No one wants to bounce around on a bony chick, man, a dude might as well get it on with a railroad track. A lady needs some round bits. Some nice soft curves. Am I right? Damn right I am. L.A. chicks are just into eating celery and sucking their cheek bones in. It’s scary. Not that I wouldn’t hit that if desperate you understand. All you need to do is tell these chicks you’re a producer or something and their clothes practically fall off right there. No tequila necessary, gracias. Desperation kinda turns me off to be honest. I like to work for it. Those ladies have the look of a wolf circling a lamb. It’s off putting.

Tomorrow I’m hanging with my bud Donny Ono. He’s the guy I told y’all about before, Japanese Elvis impersonator. He’s more comedy than bona fide impersonator though. I’m not sure he means to be but either way, he’s a funny fuck. I once saw him, drunk off his ass in Vegas being fellated by a 600 lb lady porn model – no kidding! He likes the big ladies but that was like seeing a hot air balloon sucking off a toothpick. Kind of obscene but kind of fascinating.

Okay, I’m off to a Mexican calypso bar for some good times. I’m bringing hand sanitizer and a good time in my pants. Stay classy y’all.


Taking it Coastal

May 21, 2009

Hey there amigos!

Yeah I know, I’m a lazy sonofabitch when it comes to updating this thing lately. I’d like to say I’m busy but I ain’t that busy.  Played some shows, low key stuff, no biggie.  Pays the rent.  Dallied with the virtue of a couple of ladies, but nothing too exciting.  Had some “me” time.   By that I don’t mean I played with the Captain and some Nivea. Well okay, I did some of that too. I mean the world ain’t ending or nothing.

Time to snap out of it though.  Starting to sound like a goddamn lady myself.  Me time.   Next it’ll be manicures and the Women’s Network.  I just looked down my Fruit of the Looms to check the Captain was still there.  You’ll be happy to know ladies, that yes, he is and he’s looking magnificent like a shiny pink log of love.

Spring time.  Makes a dude think of poon.  Actually any time makes Tony think of poon.  Hey oh. There is nothing more beautiful than a juicy pink vagina.

Next week I’m kind of excited as I’m going to LA.  That’s Los Angeles to you bums, not Louisiana.  Who the fuck’d go to Louisiana of their own free will?  Jesus.   Actually Jesus probably would.  He’s respected in Lousiana.  True story. My friend Delmar, who’s a kick ass pianist, once played a show in Baton Rouge.  When he comes out on to the stage in this little church hall type place, he’s confronted by six dudes in white pointy head gear.  Delmar almost shit in his pants.  At first he thought it was a costume party and some dudes were dressed like sperms but turns out they were the real KKK.  For real yo!  They weren’t too happy at some black dude singing to their ladies.  So Delmarr excused himself for a moment then hoofed it out the back way and out of town.  

Anyways, yeah.  Los Angeles.  I’m playing a show out there with some other guys in my field and also some Elvis impersonators have a competition going down same time, so I get to hang with my good Japanese buddy Donny Ono, who believe it or not is a Japanese Elvis. Go check out his blog. He just started it and his English is for shit but dude’s a good onion. He promised to get me bombed on Saki and introduce me to this little half Japanese chick named Kiki who can shoot quarters out of her hoo ha. What’s not to like?

Hope you guys are all groovy?

Thinking Out Loud

May 5, 2009

I was checking out my dashboard here on WordPress and I swore it said something about me having 7 midgets. Y’all know Tony, I get excited at new people, especially tiny, chunky people who might be stalking me, because that’s kind of perverted and I ain’t one to shirk a little perversion, you dig? I had these visions of all these little, tiny, undersexed ladies spying on me while not wearing panties (them, not me) and it made my trouser-place feel all warm and tingly in a good way (as opposed to an itchy way).

I Googled "midgets" and got this. I don't know what's going on in this picture but I'm fascinated. It could lose the tiny dudes however and the ladies could lose their tops but hey.  Midgets.

I Googled "midgets" and got this. I don't know what's going on in this picture but I'm fascinated. It could lose the tiny dudes however and the ladies could lose their tops but hey. Midgets.

Then I noticed it actually said WIDGETS and well…that’s a whole lot less fucking sexy, no? This is what happens when a guy is still up and active at 6 in the ay em. And still a little bit drunk.

And is it just me or does ‘widget’ make you think of hobbits? Or am I confusing it with midgets again? I don’t know and frankly I’m too tired to give a hot damn. I just know a widget sounds like some hairy ass creature who’d chase you round the forest at dusk then attempt to steal your berries.

Talking of midgets, at least sort of connected to that chain of thought, I once dated this gorgeous giant gal, name of Petra. Petra was about eight feet tall. Well okay, maybe closer to six feet four or something, but she was one tall chick. Great for motorboating. It’s okay though, she didn’t mind or nothing in fact she encouraged it. Or maybe I encouraged it, I forget now. I’d totally forgotten old Petra till right now. Laugh like a dock worker, boobs like a Penthouse Pet. Quite the combination.

Anyways, I’m thinking out loud here. I should probably go to bed. I got these knock off satin sheets for my boudoir at a sale in some little store in some no good little town. They look like satin but fuck, in practice they’re more like Satan. Little fuckers give you wicked static when you slide on them – makes my pubes stand on end and gives the occasional static blast of electricity to The Captain, which he does not approve of. I have to calm him down with a nice Nivea massage.

Peace out homies. Only four more days till the weekend.