Remember what the Pope looked like just before he passed away?

Put him in trousers and you got me.
Wobbly head, bent over and no coherent speech.
Don't know what is wrong but since Sunday evening i am a mess.

This whole pope look-alike-thing started right after i learned he was dead.
B. (aka Truth Ruth) had come over after her dj-ing adventures on 109.7 (cable).
As it turned out she's been doing this since July, but thought she was uh-ing too much and didn't want to let anyone know before she had that under control. Apparently this was that time coz she textpaged/sms-ed me that she was going to play a life version of Patti Austin for me.
This girl has gotten herself a number one fan ofcourse !
Anyway we were discussing black schools and what to do about it, degrading norms in general, Teri Schiavo, B.'s new job; the usual Saturday night stuff, when the church bells from the (Polish-Dutch) church across the street began to ring.

That very night the bending down started.
I shit you not!
R. rubbed my back for about half an hour but it didnot really help. (speaking about backrubbing, this is no joke; have you heard about the Pope and this revue girl, some 75 yrs ago ?!)

The next day we had 2 eating appointments;
1 very pleasant lunch with friends we hadn't seen for too long and on which i overate.
On the way back home i felt strontmisselijk and together with the back pain started to loose it bit by bit.
I think i somehow managed to nod at the appropriate times in the restaurant that night and squeezed out a laugh when needed but when we stepped into the car all bravoury was gone.
So.. Monday was spent (o something on the side; as you may have noticed i have a problem with d's & t's in english; i usually mean past tense) in bed.

This morning, i felt quilty about letting T. run the office on her own, dressed up, tried to keep my head stil and got the laptop.
To make a long story a wee bit shorter; C. did me in. She came over and i lifted her from one side to another, getting totally out of balance and broke my spine.
Or that's how it feels now.

Ok then. To change my misery for someone elses; R. rode the Ronde van Vlaanderen Saturday.
Not the professional edition (256 km!!) bit still 150 kilometers on kinderkopjes !! *claps*
For those of you who are not familiar with the word kinderkopjes (literally children's heads); they're bricks. Small bricks, usually unevenly laid.
So.
Imagine you're riding on a way too small saddle.
On kinderkopjes.
For 150 kilometers (it took R. 6 hrs and he's trained !!)
Those of you with imagination see where i am heading.
The private parts ppl !
Apparently what the professionals do is: take a big jar of vaseline/lubricant and smeer it from your bilnaad till the front where you can't go any further.
I'll bet you'll be looking a whole different way at Lance Armstrong this summer !