So you think you're lonely

Well, my friends, I'm lonely too. Actually, I'm not really that lonely. I'm in San Francisco staying with friends Gay and Gulia (I have employed a complex algorithm to create aliases that will completely protect their real identities). They are doting hosts and have already supplied me with chow mein, sticky hot wings, and a custard-filled long john. Last night, Tyrone drove us around in his Chevy Tyhoe, which is nice even if it doesn't have heated rear seats. We enjoyed a delicious meal served with an extra-large serving of prompt, attentive service. I slept on a spacious couch covered in a fabric depicting the bucolic life of 19th century French farmers. Thusly, my dreams were filled with visions of plum fairies, sugerdrops, and, inexplicably, coconut curry.

This morning I have several hours to myself and plan on exploring every hill, hippie, and homosexual this city has to offer. San Francisco is one my favorite cities in all of Northern California, and I look forward to taking to the streets to meet some real Asian-Americans, dine on fresh-from-the-oven sourdough bread, and punch Steve Perry in the face. If there is time, I also plan on doing the Lido Shuffle in front of Boz Scaggs' house.

Mabel wishes you could join us on our journey today. In fact, she said to me just this morning, as the morning light traversed the mountainous flesh of her fictitious body: "It's sad, oh, there's been mornings out on the road without you, without your charms. Ooh, my, my, my." Even though Mabel and I are on the road without you, I do have access to Gay's interweb box. So I guess you will kind of be out here on the road with us. Tasting every loaf and long john this city has to offer.