January 13, 2002
I Want To Tell You


I want to tell you that this was the weekend Secra & Ю僱êrvØ¡ squeezed their overly-chocolated selves back into the Spandex and went on the much-ballyhooed First Bicycle Ride of the Season ... dusting off the cobwebs and inertia of winter, and bringing them a fraction of an inch closer to their goal of riding 2002 in 2002.

But I can't.

Instead, I must tell you that this was the weekend Secra & Ю僱êrvØ¡ slept in until the insanely indulgent hour of 8 a.m., both Saturday and Sunday mornings ... and then took gigantic naps in the middle of the afternoon, on top of that. I must further report that this was the weekend they went to Nordstrom's Rack to buy new work clothes and underwear ... the weekend they cleaned the mold out of their bedroom closet, reorganized their hanging file folders, and shopped for a new phone ... the weekend that they watched the Oakland Raiders soundly beat the SomewhereOrOther SomethingOrOthers. ("Hurray!" said Secra. "Now they get to go to the Rose Bowl!") Furthermore, this was the weekend Secra & Ю僱êrvØ¡ ate vegetable pizza in bed, listened to R.E.M. rarities, had Saturday afternoon lunch at a small town café, and held hands as they walked along Webster Street.

I want to tell you that Secra & Ю僱êrvØ¡ are sorry they didn't go riding this weekend, as they promised they would.

But I can't do that, either.



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~ nil bastardum carborundum ~





my apologies to readers in new zealand and australia
and other godforsaken places around the planet
for spoiling the ending of *survivor* yesterday.
i wasn't even thinking -- sometimes i forget that EVERYWHERE isn't california -- and i am genuinely sorry.
i suck.