Friday afternoon...things have slowed at work a bit, so I have decided to just post some random stuff. I would like my homies back in the US to do the following for me, so that I may live vicariously through you as you enjoy the things I miss:

- eat some US-style seafood.
- drive a car somewhere - damn, I miss driving...
- pet a dog or cat. Why? well, I miss my cat, and on top of that the dogs here seem scarce and the cats have now been identified as being yet another carrier of the potentially deadly avian flu. I'm not dying to pet too many animals over here, but I miss doing it.
- hit the Tainted Lady Lounge and raise a glass or two. I think I get like one penny for each beer, so make me rich and have, like, four beers.
- Ride a bike - I miss that a lot. Wear a helmet, dammit. You know how much you have invested in that brain? Put a bucket on it, for God's sake!
- pull a fat tube or use your preferred delivery mechanism; I'm glad my head is clear, but I still miss the mcherbals!
- Listen to 'Anything', the remix of the SWV song with Wu-Tang. I love that song.
- go fishing. I'm not good at it and don't even particularly like it, but it's a lovely meitative practice, you're out there listening to the surf, and you will enjoy yourself even if you don't catch any fish.

That's about it. Random piece of news: some of the cans here (some sodas and beers) still have the old-school pop-top - you know, the teardrop-shaped joints with the ring, the kind that Jimmy Buffett stepped on after he blew out his flip-flop, forcing him to cruise on back home? I haven't seen those things since I was a kid! I mean, did they even still have them when I was in junior high? It's still satisfying to pull one of those suckers off. Pearrtrtch - that's my onomatopoeia of the pop-top coming off.

Oh yeah, one other thing. I've been thinking lately that Nas is probably soft. I don't know why I'm singling him out among all the other rappers, but my feeling is that, after years and years of hiding behind the relative safety of burners, slugproof vests, bodyguards and gates and all that, he's probably pretty soft when it comes to throwin' knots. I think that he probably fistfights about as well as I do, which is to say pretty damn crappily. Well, you never know until you try, so I'm officially challenging Nas to a fistfight when I get back to NYC. Little punk prolly gonna show up with a burner, two guards who can mash my face in, and a boxcutter for good measure.

In which case I will back down. I will have proved my point (well, technically, he will have proved my point). Nas, y'soft!! Soft like butter at the Swanson house.

ok, more later - enjoy your weekends, everyone. Miss you all.

Chucky