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we admit we have been neglectful dear readers. we have left you high and dry, but that was never our intention. we have been in a state of both perpetual and anticipatory velocity. we haven’t been around much and we haven’t been saddling ourselves with the indignities of technology during the course of our journies. we have been leaving our phones at home.

we have been purposefully difficult to reach and willfully mysterious in our comings and goings. we have been keeping odd hours and spanning area codes. we have been down the street from you and you have not known it.

needless to say, this rash of movement has all but colored 2011. thus far it has not proved to be a year for idols or idleness.

however we have come to terms with the need for stillness, even though it makes us itchy to think about.

why rest? why not rage while there still dying lights? because of the realization we had the other day that we are leaving in three weeks for a week-long road trip to the lamer states with one of our most favorite friends. it will be an adventure filled with cut off shorts, swimming holes, old friends, love, stars, frivolous bestie tattoos, and regional radio.

we return from this and glide straight into our birthdays, which tend to run on the rowdy side of life.

then off to eastern europe for two weeks to ride trains, take the thermal baths, rock and roll, see several countries and who knows what else…

from there we are home and prospecting some new places where our hats might hang. places far away. places with different time zones.

sometimes one needs the wind in their hair and to be just another face passing through just another town. however, we will try our best to keep you posted on our odysseys and oddities. we also have some shit to talk on michelle bachmann…

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it should proably explained good and early that we at the offices of casual friday do not subscribe to any particular suspicion group. the issue doesn’t even have to really do with belief systems, it is a deep seated indifference to the practice of religion in both the institutional and personal arenas. to put it simply, we could really give a fuck.

with that laid out nice and clear, despite our non-religous stance we can fully get behind easter. it’s one of our favorite holidays actually. it could be argued that easter has it all: it provides us with an occasion to wear a wicker crown of thorns around all day, brunch centered activities, the hunky jesus contest at dolores park, and honestly, it’s a zombie holiday, in that, you know, jesus “came back from the dead” and all… it’s all very good stuff.

one of our most foretelling memories also is an easter one. when we were but little girls in hawaii, our family was still occasionally taking half hearted stabs at catholosism. one particular easter, when we were very small, probably around three little years of age, our mother and grandmother escorted us bedecked in pretty dresses to a church. our memory is dim of many facts, namly owing to the great expanse of time spreading between then and now. we do remember a deep boredom, one that tends to be reserved for horrible oddesys, like 16 hour long greyhound rides to portland or endless car rides with people you don’t particularly like in a car with no working radio. so here we are little and bored, outside the sun is shining and in the distance there is a playground, devoid of children. both swings unoccupied… we fussed, we figited, we bothered our mother to let us go and play only to be shushed. so we took matters into our own hands, which is really the best way to get things done right and proper. we bit our mother. we bit her arm as hard as we could. all of our sharp pearly baby teeth closing down on flesh. our mother escorted us out of curch rapidly, we don’t remember what happened next probably a scolding,  the devil’s playground not even an option. we were never taken back to church again. we would like to claim a ghost of an inkling about our undeniably non tendencies, but really it was probably more beligerence than orical. but it makes you think,  perhaps if cassandra had used teeth maybe people would have listened to her portents a little closer.

with that said, may all your easter eggs be found, may your jesus’ be hunky, and may your scones turn out perfectly. oh, and don’t forget to leave a carrot out for the easter bunny.

one third of the way deep into the year, and we, dear readers, feel as though we have a degree of accounting to do with you all. well, less to you and more ourselves to be honest. as promised, we wish to revisit our list of new years resolutions to share with you the progress we are making in these superficial goals we decided to strive towards this year…

1. still not care about how much we curse so long as we are learning several new vocabulary words a day.

status: smooth fucking sailing.

2. learn how to do a wheelie.

status: decidedly in progress still, as we cannot get past that point where one is done with eating shit and is actually perched on one wheel. needless to say, we have gotten over our fear of falling, which is a small victory in its own right.

3. travel

status: for real accomplished. early july- pdx. late july- road trip to montana with one of our favorite miscreants. september- budapest/prague/vienna/possibly berlin. december- maui no ka oi.

4. continue pure and total abstinence from emoticons.

status: completely free of insipid smiley faces and whatever bullshit pictograms are the vogue for communicating.

5. write every day.

status: though you dear readers often get the short end of our writing stick, we can whole heartedly assure you that writing every day is happening. we are currently working on a weird short story and tackling our voluminous correspondence.

6. learn to ride a motorcycle.

stauts: moto lessons in the immediate future with one of our motorcycle babe friends.

7. go on a long train ride.

status: for sure. budapest to vienna- 3 hours. vienna to prague- 4 hours. Prague to budapest- 7 hours

8. more house parties.

status: there aren’t enough days in the week.

we here at casual friday are feeling pretty good about things. perhaps a lowered bar is truly the road to happiness…

no matter what one says, we here at casual friday, as well as you dear readers, are nothing more than social creatures of habit. party animals of repetition, if you will. and much like the preternatural pull that drew the silly malcontents of tv’s cheers to their saloon like moths to flames, it is these same cyclical tendencies that reach out  their tentacles to draw us into the non-traditional places that we physically revisit time and again.

recently we have arrived at the realization that we have become very much anti-social regulars at a few of the bay areas oft over looked social gathering sites, and because of this, we have begun to share casual nods with the other frequenters who elect to occupy the same soil and air as ourselves.

one of the great drains we pour our time down is at the piedmont graveyard. among other things, it’s a good place to listen to slow metal and take arty photos, write letters and have a beer, practice wheelies and eat shit, walk around and plot things. basically in a nut shell, it’s the jam. we recently moved our casual friday home office to near the great gates, so our frequenting has reached a pretty extreme level.

with that digression behind us, some of our favorite regulars are found at the piedmont graveyard. there are the requisite roving hordes of be-mohawked not-so-youths that travel in packs of five to ten drinking beer and taking photos of each other. there is the charming old italian man with a dog who always sings us a sweet song about better days we ourselves were never privy to be alive to enjoy. there is the nice lady who leaves flowers on random graves. there are the odd kids on their first dates who we always seem to crash our bikes in front of and horrify. the heshers who hang out at the crocker grave smoking weed and bullshitting. besides these decreasingly anonymous faces, we also run into many casual friday associates, colleagues, and contemporaries doing basically the same things as ourselves- being people watching weirdos.

it’s food for thought when you realize that your random stumblings take you through the well beaten paths of so many other souls. that really we are all just caught within one another’s gravitational pull, no matter how anti-social we are feeling.

with that said, we will see you around.

the first time we ever spent time in the company of bikers was at the annual oakland hells angels saint patrick’s day party 9 long confusing years ago. through one mysterious means or another, we and two of our more belligerent colleagues of the time secured invitations. we still don’t understand how we went from talking about books with some elderly guy in a leather vest to tromping down high street en route to loud unknown things but sometimes its best not to ask to many questions.

now before we get ahead of ourselves, let us tell you this, as excited as our two cohorts and we were for this literal walk on the wild side, there was an undeniable nervousness, for none of us knew quite what we were walking into. after a long powwow over a bone, we decided that it would probably be best if we were armed. being a small posse of skinny loadies, we recognized that perhaps we were not really going to be up to the snuff for any potential hand to hand combat with the hells angels. we felt that any knives would be taken from us before we even could process them in our hands. so we did what we felt was the only prudent way to handle the weapon situation- we brought skateboards and figured we would go down swinging at least and that they would at least render us unconscious quickly.

all these fears were for naught dear readers. the president gave a speech about how no member was allowed to cause us any harm or duress as “these kids look like freaks, that’s how we use to look”, which is a loaded sort of compliment considering this was being said to a group of bikers with every sort of emblem of heavy freakdom bedecking their bodies, beards, babes and bikes. thus roughed with we were not. all members of our party were given shirts, stickers, nitrous oxide, beer, and front row seats to watch the grittiest strippers we have ever had the pleasure of seeing.

and that dear readers is the tale of our first time meeting the hells angels and one of our finest saint patrick’s days. it  also began a long and loose association with the hells angels we continue to enjoy to this very day.

all that said, may your beer be green, may you not vomit corn beef and cabbage on anyone, and may your drivers be designated.

we here at the offices of casual friday have been mulling over the darker sides of time travel and coming to terms with ones direct relationship to the snowballing of days into weeks into months into eventual years… it’s heavy business and not for the weak of heart, but really in life none of the interesting things are best suited for those of a fragile condition.

dear readers, the precise trouble with time is that it doesn’t just start and stop where you want it to. without the aid of psychedelic drugs or sorcery one cannot go from monday morning’s alarm clock to friday’s afternoon- or however the lodestar of your weekend works out. in this same vein one cannot jump from the moment you opened the dresser drawer filled with needles, tin foil, and your mail and then suddenly be on a roadtrip with your best friend some ten months later. the precise mechanics of the clock do not allow for these kinds of transgressions. it is amazing that in this day and age of such great technological magic and innovation that no one has sought to fix this problem of time…

we here at casual friday are mucking through the deep trenches of slowly expanding time and space. it has yet to achieve those qualities of a great numbing expanse, a gulf so wide it may as well be the ocean where communication is only possible through the frantically flickering of writs of semaphores on foreign shores. no time is still a young thing. not a helpless baby. time is more like a 10 year old boy. all knobby knees and bones like glass. time falls and hurts itself and we still feel the need to hold it. cry with it. we here at the offices of casual friday still share a visceral connection with time, it coats our hands like honey.

we know we have been positively lax about our work, but you see, other things have occupied the minds of we here at the office, and thus, we have neglected you. horribly. we are sorry for this, but life has required living and we are the only ones up for the job.

with that admission and apology out of the way, let us rocket forward to topics of great pleasure, namely rham emanuel and his glorious fake twitter account. we here at casual friday don’t really “get” twitter. we don’t really want to get it either. however, in the boiling sea of mental and emotional vomit that is twitter a single beacon of hope and humor has emerged bouncing along… and that dear friends is the fictional twitter account authored by an anonymous and jolly wraith known as mayoremanuel. phew. good medicine that twitter account, or whatever you call it, is.

now, rham isn’t to pretty pleased about this blog, offering a price spanning between 2500 and 5000 bones to be donated to the charity of choice for someone to rat out the glorious soul who is authoring rham’s mayoral running and tenure with such a light touch and effusive use of all the best four letter words.

to mayoremauel, our continued support is yours and yours alone.