i know whats going down. i know why ive been sick for two months. i know why the caged bird sings.

i didnt know until this weekend, but i had an idea.

her name really isnt lindsay, its beautiful. shes not really from minnesota, shes from the xbi. and she knew that i knew and i knew that she knew that i knew, so we just played our roles of hunter and hunted and let her set the trap and i looked in her eyes as i fell in the hole.

the good thing about the agency is its relentless. the bad thing is its sloppy and obvious.

the genius about the xbi is they believe that if a neighborhood has some bad elements then what you do is open a 7-11 in the middle of the town square and sell gas a nickle cheaper than anywhere else. what you will get is peoples pin numbers, you’ll get their credit card numbers, you’ll get their eating habits, their license plate numbers, you’ll get their drivers liscense numbers and birthdates when you check their IDs, and if you put a pretty girl behind the counter in a low cut vest you’ll get their phone numbers.

their failure is they try this type of move in all of their plots. it’s like a curve ball pitcher throwing an overhand curve, a sidearmed curve, and a knucklecurve – the smart hitter just lays the bat on his shoulder and waits for the walk because it’s almost impossible to get three of those pitches over the plate out of seven.

so when the perfect woman stepped off the plane at LAX the other day and slipped into my car the only question was is she xbi or an xbi android, dont laugh, so as soon as we got home i called out all the safe words i knew to see if she’d shut down to no avail.

i waited all night to see if she’d strip, but she was on to me and played coy, so i played along with her.

i asked her a question and she answered correctly.

ever kiss a girl?
yup.
ever kiss two girls?
yup yup.
feel like kissing two girls right now?
sure, where they at?
wanna see how quickly i can unloose your brastrap lefthanded?
go for it.

i was very skeptical. were they trying to get my dna? were they trying to lure me back into the agency full time? were they trying to move me out of califonia? were they trying to kill me?

all the possibilities ran through my head as we fell asleep that first night. i couldnt sleep. we talked in the dark as the music played and i asked her a question and she didnt answer and i figured she had just fallen asleep but then i thought maybe shes listening to hq in her earpeice. i was so paranoid it was crazy. she had clearly planted bugs all through my apartment and car. was that her sole objective?

what did she wear to sleep? a tight shirt and some booty shorts. she called them her pajamas. i told her it wasnt fair. what did i wear to bed? a tight shirt and some booty shorts. all the barfing ive done over the last two months has helped me lose my babyfat. and when i finally allowed myself to fall asleep i was prepared to never wake up again. which was fine. my life has been full. and if i was going to be chopped up or kidnapped or eaten or mutilated, there are worse ways to go than at the hands of the hottest xbi android ever created. with an ass like that.

before the sun rose i wanted to examine this xbi agent. everything was in order. i wanted to spend more time with this investigation but it was over much quicker than i would have liked.

what made me seriously doubt this “woman” were her answers. i would ask her if oj was guilty and she would say “no, there was no motive.” exactly my reasoning. i would ask her if she ever heard Tsar and she would say, “i have both of their records, i love them.” when i asked her how she heard of Tsar she would say, “from the busblog, my favorite blog.” everything was too good to be true.

id ask her if i could hold her hand, shed say yes. id ask her what she wanted to do, she’d say whatever you want to do tony. id say i wanna look at that fine ass and she’d twirl around and give me a good look. id say what do you wanna eat, and she’d say anywhere that you think is good. but this girl didnt come across as desperate or wanting or needy or crazed. or even a superfan of me or my blog, despite having read it since 2002, when she was 17(!) – she seemed like a quiet, confident, semi-brainiac who was once pre-med but now pre-law.

surely she was here for nefarious reasons.

and then i realized what had been going on for the last two months. those texas roller girls, thats when i had first gotten sick. they made out with me in the bathroom, at the same time. they had poisoned me. obviously. thats how the xbi got me when i was in college, this is how they were trying to get me now. those roller girls had something under their tounges, bit it and then had me swallow it, then they spit out the remainder in the sink as the other one got me with another dose.

then anna kournikova got me a few weeks later. same way. then that chilean girl got me with that “authentic” meal she had me eat. each time i was having the time of my life these “women” would put something in my body for the xbi to see how i’d react, to see if id die. to see how my blogging would progress. to see how my mind worked. to see if id crack. and now i see they did it so i would be so broken down that i would go to them for the syrum.

i know this because there were times this weekend where i thought i was going to die. i was right there. i was dizzy, i was disorientated, i was suicidal. there was a gorgeous girl in my bed who looked hot in any and all outfit that she was wearing but i was so weak i could barely float in the hot tub let alone live up to my reputation as an african american. if anything would make me want to jump off a bridge it was that. fortunately there aint no bridges in palm springs.

so in the california pizza kitchen on desert springs road i hurled for the fourth time that morning and what do we have here floating in the can – an xbi special – a tracking device disguised as a kidney bean. stupid fucks, i had helped them design that thing back in ’88! you cant throw a split fingered fastball to bruce sutter! first thing they tell you at the xbi is to barf if you feel sick so ive been hurling for two months. ive lost 15 pounds. and as soon as i got better i got sick again during or after a hot date.

intentionally i didnt bring a date to coachella or kiss any girls there, but i was not thinking straight when two hippie chicks walked by with free samples of granola bars as i was headed to the sahara tent to see madonna. of course the xbi knew i loved granola bars and of course they knew i was gonna see madonna. and ask lizy i hurled in the side of the road on the 10 because those fuckers put way too much poison in the batch. stir it assholes! stir it!

so yesterday morning i left the motel room early as my date snoozed in our gigantic bed. i went over to the mall. it was 9am and only the anchor stores were open. but that was fine since everything i would need would be in sears. and i made what i had to make and i got back to the room, and she got dressed, we said our goodbyes to people, and we had lunch at the cpk and when i hurled the bug i put it in my ac/dc wristband. and slid it on.

then on our drive back to LA i leaned towards her and i whispered and apologized for my throat being so f’ed up because of my illness. she said she didnt mind. she didnt mind anything. only thing she didnt want to talk about was politics. why? probably because the xbi is mostly republicans and she was secretly pissed at the right for fucking up this good chance theyve had over the last 5 years. but she crossed her legs and suddenly i didnt want to talk about politics neither.

but i whispered. i told her she was amazing and perfect and whoever created her deserved a high five. then i did everything i could to make her blush but robots dont blush. then i quizzed her about baseball and basketball and she got every answer right because androids are made by men, duh. but then she saw a woman walking out of a bar and commented on her dolce shoes and i was all, huh, we got gay guys programming at the agency too?

still i whispered and put on howard stern but that didnt throw her she said she loved howard. so at that point i didnt care if i died or not. either i had met my match or i had met my future bride so i said everything you wouldnt say to someone who you wanted to have a future with, i said her first name and my last name, i said my first name and her last name, i asked her how many kids we would have, i asked her how many wives we would have. she didnt flinch once.

until we pulled over to pick up a guy stranded and walking to a call box. i parked about 20 yards ahead of him. i watched as he approached us. i asked her to roll down her window. when he came up to the car, as we had arranged, he looked down her shirt and then at her eyes and i asked him if he needed a ride to the gas station, and he said no, that he was just going to the call box, but thanks.

just like we planned.

for while he was talking to us and she was looking out of her window at him, i slipped my own kidney bean into her bag, so that when i dropped her off at LAX an hour later thru the tracking device i saw how she didnt fly to minnesota, but instead jetted to isla vista, home of the xbi, birthplace of the hottest android of all time, and the reason why ive been sick so long.

and who you should blame for this blog being down all weekend.

raspberry deserves your dough + doktor frank