bring my sarah home!!

no, i'm not referring to me. i want my sarah (and if you think she belongs to someone else, you got another thing coming, except for maybe tina) to get the hell back to the states! fucking england! i hope she and mel are very happy together . . . NOT!! e-mail just doesn't have quite the same emotive potential as a phone call (and we all know i love emotive potential, by which i mean whining).

sarah can never leave me. our friendship must last forever. i've already picked out her ugly bridesmaid's dress in my head (okay, not really, but you get my point). we will raise our children together. there are few friends in this lifetime who can be counted on to listen to hours of your ranting when you really need them to. david, mana and sarah are such friends. and emily, but she's obligated. so there. but these people, they listeners of the highest degree.

speaking of mana, i don't know where my wife has got to. i mean, obviously, boston, but . . . she's not near her phone. she's probably bonding with tonya. tonya better treat her well and/or go home a lot.


**note to all music artists everywhere: unless you are a cartoon (ie, chef), DO NOT write song lyrics in the form of a recipe. especially if the recipe is how you're gonna love me, freak me, or - weirdly - how you're gonna "operate" on me. also, it's creepy when the recipe is in a song called "i am your doctor," and you're giving me a "perscription". wyclef, this means you.