Warm Saturday Nights

It is 66 degrees here, says My Yahoo, and "feels like 66." I don't think My Yahoo is sticking near me in the Mission, however, which makes me question whether he is really My My Yahoo, you know what I mean? I'd say it "feels like 88" here right now; the air is still, the fans are twirling, my ice water clinks in its glass, and outside, the girls all look so fine.

I'm listening to The Breeders, but remembering The Cranberries' "You're So Pretty," which reminds me of the Flaming Lips' "Do You Realize?" How's that for free association? What I just heard on the radio driving back through town from dropping off a friend was "You'll Remember Me," by I'm not sure who...

Down in Biloxi, My Yahoo reports it is 88 but "feels like 99." My theory about My Yahoo is he measures emotional temperature, not the mercury level. That, in fact, he is personalized to the extent he can gauge our emotional temperatures -- part of an undercover intelligence dev effort by Yahoo to find the ultimate killer app. Thus I keep my eye on him and will report to you, dear reader, what I find out over time.

One way I could interpret this data is while I feel about 66 degrees emotionally in San Francisco tonight, were I with a certain someone down south, I'd feel more like 99 degrees emotionally. We did tend to have some hot times in Mississippi and Alabama when we got together down there. This summer was supposed to be another of our times, but she has nixxed that idea, recently floated by yours truly.

I don't give up easily, do I? Neither does My Yahoo, that's why I keep my eye on him, wherever he may be and whatever it is he is indeed up to.