Hearts around the world are breaking...

I call upon Manuela and other fans to take a moment to grieve for the bachelorhood of Michael Owen. My blog, today, is silent.

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The further I get along in age, the more I become like Emily Post. And if she were alive I am sure she would agree that someone needs to say something about subway etiquette. Example. The train is full, a chick with questionably red frizzy hair squeezes in and leans against the stripper pole that I am holding onto. I could continue to hold on, but the red frizzy hair starts getting tangled in my fingers as I am trying to skip that one techno song I hate on my I-pod that is in my pocket. So I let go of the stripper pole and find something more soothing to listen to since I am obviously ready to tear some shit up.

Speaking of tearing shit up, yes, Bolivia is going under. I think the complaint this time has something to with the nationalization of all the energy-related reserves. As if turning over uber-lucrative gas mines to "the people" blocking all roads with burning tires is what naturally happens when the president threatens a second resignation in three months. For all of you lovely blog-reading potential tourists, Chile is safe. The kids are all up in arms about having their loans privatized, but they still go home at night to pre-game and do bong hits. It seems like Pinochet`s bong hits may be numbered. With all the economic geniuses around him (from the U of C, natch) you would think someone would have made the money trail a little murkier. I guess one way or another, the big man will come down, though I cannot imagine the historians getting all excited about having their last chapter titled "...all because of unsexy bookkeeping."