I blame the odometer. This is why I really need to turn it off. My big plan was to try and hit fifteen miles, but then I thought, well, twenty is a much more impressive number, so I kept going until I hit twenty. And I felt great, actually, when I got back. I was like, "I'm the king of the world," and crap. But I don't think I should have doubled my distance in a 24 hour period. Probably not the smartest approach.

The ride was fun. I rode the Way of the Sacred Chicken into Berkeley, which culminates with a sort of obstacle course of these little poles I have to ride between. Kind of exciting, because I always feel like I'm going to ride straight into one of them. I rode further in that direction until I hit the next BART station, and then headed the other direction.

I passed my starting point (which is my personal BART station) and headed into Richmond. The area is ever so slightly shady, and I amuse myself by assuming that everyone I see is some kind of shady character. Yesterday I saw a drug deal being made in the bushes, a crack pipe on the path, and a pimp walking along the road. Today I saw two crack whores and some guy whacking off in the bushes.

Or maybe I'm imagining things.

Right now I am feeling a little wiped out. In a really weird way, like my head feels warm, like I'm coming down with something? I passed on the chance to attend a party tonight, because I feel like I need to rest. Especially since my sister and the gang will be here late tonight, and we have a full weekend planned.

Also, my palms are numb. I have riding gloves, so I don't really get it. My right palm especially is totally numb. It feels freaky. Next thing you know, I'll go blind like they always warned me about.

But none of that is very important. The important thing is that I biked twenty miles today! Jessie sent me mail last week giving me some biking advice, and she mentioned that she can ride twenty miles fairly easily, and I remember reading that email going, yeah right, twenty miles? That'll take me a couple of months, at least. That was a week ago.

Yeah, I guess I'm pretty proud. I still haven't gotten anyone to give me a cookie, though.

Wow, I really don't have anything else to say, do I?

I'm looking forward to the girls coming to see me. They'll be here in a few short hours. We're going to go to the cool movie theater with the couches and the pizza and the beer. We're also going to the crazy arcade museum with the twitching opium den game. And a lesbian dance club, which should be an adventure. We also may go play pool and hang out with Tatum. Oh, and SFMOMA (the Museum of Modern Art) as well.

I also have to work all weekend, which sucks. But the girls are going to Alcatraz while I'm at work, and hell, I've already been there.

Joey and I are going to Reno next Friday. Laurie might even come with us (which would be a miracle, since she is always doing homework and never wants to do anything). I've never been, and it's only a couple hours away, so I'm pretty excited. Originally we were going to skip class on Thursday and go, but my Catholic upbringing won't allow it. The guilt would eat me alive.

Unfortunately, Fridays are my days off when I get to go for long rides. (For instance, my three hour venture today.) If I'm willing to just get my ass out of bed early on Thursday, though, I can do a longer ride then.

I don't know about twenty miles, though. I'm telling you, my head feels funny. It is so time for a nap.

"Yes, I am suffering from period retardation. This is a name that my cousin Lucy gave to that feeling of mental and physical sluggishness that comes over you when you have your period. (She says, as all her male readers squeal like little girls and close their browsers.) "