Sealed with a kiss
Welcome to this week’s Reno News & Review.
OK, first, I’d like to thank everyone for their kind comments about my family’s bird. His name was Warbeak, and I’m sure he’s gone to a better place. I think my family will mask its grief by pretending to love the new bird. I’ll say this, if you want to find out who’s reading the paper, mention the fact your dog killed your bird.
So anyway, we’re going to have to learn to get along with the new cockatiel. My honey is going to pick it up in Sacramento tomorrow. We haven’t named it yet. I suggest we name it No. 2, after what it leaves on people’s shoulders. Just kidding.
I’m going to have to deal with my grief from the beach in Montevideo, Uruguay. I’m going down for a month of intensive Spanish school. In fact, by the time you read this, I’m probably lost and angry on the uncertain streets of South America. I checked the weather today, and the high was 80 degrees with an expected low of 71 degrees. That’s Fahrenheit. Things could be worse, I guess.
OK, since I’m the kind of guy who can’t keep his own secrets, I need to tell you something: I burned my butt. First time ever in a tanning booth, and I torched my ass. Peeling even. Vertical pink stripes. There’s an image you needed over your lunchtime burrito: “Brian’s butt in stripes.” Beautiful. All I wanted was a base tan so I wouldn’t have to worry about going to the beach. Not that my butt is going to make an appearance on the beach, I just couldn’t think of any reason not to get the all-over tan.
Anyway, I’ll be in contact. Kat and Dennis are going to head things up while I’m away, but they’ve asked me to write the editor’s note. I guess 6,554 miles is a long way to send an editor’s note, but truth be told, I’ve been mailing it in from there the last couple weeks anyway. All right. So. I’ll see ya. Be good. Take care, everyone. Don’t burn down the town while I’m gone.