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Published by DooZer Bic

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Published by: DooZer Bic on Nov 19, 2008
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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Dear Diatribe;

I cannot tell a lie. I'm not George Washington, I don't
have cherry trees readily available to me, nor would I want to
cut them down. What the hell was that about anyway? Was that
the common mischief that youngsters got into back then? From
what I've read about George Washington, he drank heavily and
pooped in a bucket. His proclivity for clandestine logging
should be of no surprise.

In my case the quote should be "I cannot tell a lie to my
life." More accurately, "I can I get away with telling a lie to
my wife". I obsessively record my each and every thought in
this silly journal which I have never put much effort into
protecting. Having not protected it, if I were to begin to my
wife would become suspicious; and we can't go on together with
suspicious minds. We can't build our dreams on suspicious minds
(my father was a big Elvis fan).

Gaurav and I arrived at the airport at 10 a.m... We were exhausted. My trip out there I took a break for three days on the first continent before opting to the second. On the way back we did stop in Frankfurt, but only for two hours. That brings jet lead to a whole new level.

Upon landing, I have yet to tell Geeta that Gaurav knows we

are married. I merely forgot to tell her that he would be
staying in our guest room. There was nothing malicious about
that one. I knew it would be fine with her as long as she had
some advance notice. Under normal circumstances the failure to
provide that information would merit little more than a wag of
the finger. I know though, if I give her one good reason to get
mad, she will freak out about the smallest thing that

With Gaurav safely stashed away in my locked
office/conference room, I asked the wife to join me for lunch at
home. She was all smiles as we hurried off. She was under the
impression that my interest was afternoon delight.

I just needed to tell you. I ended up in a situation, or
should I say a conversation, red felt it was impossible to keep
Gaurav in the dark about us. I trust them implicitly, we become
very good friends. He just sensed something was and was asking
too many questions.

"I knew I couldn't trust you. If you were smart you
would've never let the conversation get there."

Well I ain't that smart. You should've known that before
you sent me off to India guarding your deepest and darkest

"The me tell you something, pale face. You could never be
my darkest secret."

I was looking her straight in the eye, I couldn't see what her hands were unfastening. Her skirt drop to the floor and she jumped up wrapping her arms and legs around me.

"Let's just see if you can be my deepest."
You Have To Read the entire Diatribe to hear of every
undoing perfectly romantic surprising episode she has given me.

It had been foremost in my mind that I should get Gaurav
settled in and a chance to sleep. It dawned on me that he could
nod off for another hour or so in a reasonably comfortable
swivel chair. Not as nice as the ones we have in India, but
sitting down was all he needed to do; sleep will take care of
itself once he's off his feet.

I had awakened when I got back to the office. I wrote him
back to the apartment and showed him his accommodations. The
room usually serves as my office, but I'm used to working with
him all might.

Angela was agreeable on keeping people away from Gaurav
until a meeting tomorrow. There is a saying about first
impressions, but it was never remarkable enough for me to

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