The Edge's Stocking Caps Won't Protect My Melon

Last night my recurring nightmare recurred. I was staying in the summer beach home of U2's The Edge, in the south of France, and Lance Armstrong stopped by to pick me up for a training ride. In the dream I always scramble to get ready as Lance gets increasingly antsy and threatens to leave me behind. The problem is I can't find my bike helmet anywhere. Instead, I keep finding clothes baskets in every room that are full of The Edge's trademark black stocking caps. Hundreds of stocking caps are everywhere but not a single helmet! "Dude, those stocking caps may look cool but they won't protect your melon," snarls an exasperated Lance before pedaling away.

In unrelated news, I've dropped Wilhelmina, my masseuse, from the X-Man's Success Posse. She was doing a decent job and it's nothing personal—I just felt like she was getting too comfortable. This move sends an important message that this season we all need to be more uncomfortable.

Later,
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