Getcher nerd on (wherein Chris gets his nerd on, indeed...)

Hey, look: 3:00 am, jet lag, and I'm still up. Go figure.



1. Spider-man 3 (the movie): yeah, okay, it wasn't as good as the first two, but it was still pretty damned cool. Maybe Raimi and company were a tad over-ambitious in this one, as HOLY CRAP was there a lot of storyline to get through, so much so that I'm sure they could've made two very good movies instead of one, had they stepped back and examined what it was they were trying to do; that being said - all the fanboys who told me that it was THE WORST MOVIE OF ALL TIME can just suck it. It was fun, it had a lot of action, and some of the actors actually acted.

Yes, I know the dance scene was a bit silly, but that silliness was in each one of the movies. Besides (and here's the big reveal, kids): YOU'RE WATCHING A MOVIE ABOUT A MAN WHO DRESSES IN TIGHTS AND ACTS LIKE A SPIDER. Holy fuck. What do you people want?

Whatever; despite it's flaws, I had a great time.

Also: I seem to remember everyone calling Pirates of the Caribbean 2 the WMOAT, when all I can really say is: it was a Disney pirate movie. It was only supposed to be entertaining. Which it was. So just unclench. Okay? Thanks.

2. Spider-Man 3 (the game): yes, I know I'm a nerd.

Lemme just say this to the producers of this game: how the hell do you take one of the best games on ANY platform (Spider-Man 2, thankyewverymuch) and turn it into this heap o' crap? Honestly, it's like none of you have any sense, or imagination, or talent. The game's ugly and chunky and not fun at all. Really, you could've just copy-and-pasted the earlier game into this and it would've turned out better. Thanks for wasting my time, guys.

3. I think it's funny that I saw this video on an airplane:


...and, yes, I know I'm the guy who hatedhatedhated the previous Feist album, but I can't help it; after seeing this video, I'm falling in love with the chick three times a day. Congrats to director Patrick Daughters for taking that insanely overrated OK GO video (soon to be appearing in a novelty trivia game sometime next year, I'm sure) and doing something beautiful with it.

4. I brought me Girl Guide cookies from home. Why? Because for some reason, the Girl Guides never come to MY door, so I have to get my Mom to buy them for me. I know, it's sad, but I swear to god they're like crack in cookie form; and now they're all mine.

5. Reading Ship Of Fools by Richard Paul Russo, simply on the say-so of Clint and David. It's pretty good sci-fi in a 'we've been travelling for centuries in a giant ark in space' kinda way. I'm hoping it turns out better than his Carlucci series, which just petered away into nothing, despite starting off as some very engaging cyberpunk noir. I'll let you know how it goes.

6. I can't help but notice that no one's bought me a copy of the new Palahniuk. All I can say is that I'm very disappointed in the lot of you.

7. Hey, look: Pandaporn from Jason Shogreen, who is a jeenieyus.

Okay, now I'm going to bed. Keep it down, or I'll throw a shoe at you.

Because we need MORE ways to carve words into ourselves...

Yes. I has returned. You may all cheer.

I am tired, though. So this is me going to bed and not telling you about the trip or about how Chris and Marley were nice enough to pick me up from the airport or how the plane actually wobbled when we landed, causing much distress. I need sleep, and gobs of it. Instead, here is the best example of needless stupidity that I found on the WORLD WIDE INTERWEBNET from this weekend.

Perhaps tomorrow I shall speak many words of wisdom. Perhaps, but probably not. We'll see.

OkaybyeI'mgoingnowgoodbye!

Beano is weird in the morning. It's all quiet and stuff, and nobody talks to anybody else, and it's full of all these old people sitting around reading papers and eating bagels and being grumpy, and Alison and Kimmy glare at you for at least a few seconds before realizing that you're not one of the bad guys.

Of course, I do that, too. I think that's sorta the Beano greeting, a look that says, "Hi, how can I fucking help you." It's fun, you'll like it.

Things I have realized while packing:

1. I really need to clean up my place more often.

2. I have way too many band t-shirts (which is probably why customers keep asking me things like:
"Is Sloan your name?"
"No, it's a band."
"Oh, are you in the band?"
"...yes. Yes, I am."
...I mean, seriously, people; do I come up to you and say, "Hey, you must be that Ralph Lauren person I keep hearing about!"? Morons.)

3. I need more underwear. (You probably didn't need to know that...)

4. I have, like, a thousand batteries scattered around my place, yet I have only one appliance-like-thing that requires them.

5. I REALLY need to clean up my place more often. Either that, or invest in some gasoline and a match.

Anyway: this is me going away until Monday. Vancouver awaits (or 'Van', as you kids like to call it), as do my sisters and my dog and my friend Evan who seems to have disappeared off the planet again and my friend Clint, to whom I say: get ready, bitch, I'm comin' to make you my woman again.

(I totally mean that in the best way possible...)

"Time to put the earphones on!" "No!"

I love the internet with all my heart. Where else can you watch videos of alien babies in dumpsters, cats getting drunk, or girls getting 'Britneyed' after they pass out?(Gee, I remember when all they'd do is film themselves having sex with her alcohol-addled frame...kids these days, I tell ya...). No wonder two-thirds of the continent refuses to believe in evolution.

Oh, and I know I'm usually late to the dance on these things due to my teetotalling nature, but did y'all hear about purple drink? It's not just a Dave Chappelle joke any more. I swear to christ, you people will do anything to get high. Remember those idiots that'd sit behind the 7-11, huffing gas until their noses rotted off? That's alla you in a year.

In two days I get to fly on a plane. I will NEVER get tired of that. I will, however, eventually tire of the people I usually have to share my flight with, as asshats constantly abound, existing only to annoy me with stories of a) where they're from and b) where they're going and c) why they're afraid of flying, when all I'm thinking about is that scene from Fight Club (you know which one I'm talking about...); but! We're currently directing positive energy towards the idea that Chris somehow wins that jackpot of the Airline Lottery: a flight all to myself.

Dude, I'm kidding. I know there's no such thing, unless you're the leader of the free world. Or God. Or Jenny. And I am none of those people. I think.

The new Palahniuk is out, and everyone hates it, but that's okay, because everyone seems to love The Surreal House of Bam's American Idol Swap, which means that Rant MUST be good.

I must go because I'm tired and my eyes are threatening to crawl out of my sockets and die in the corner if I do not go to bed now. They're serious, too; they have guns, and a list of demands, and sabres to rattle.

I want a sabre to rattle, goddammit...

Here are The Shins rescuing balloons, just because:

Cover it with gas and set it on fire.

Apologies all around for that last post. I was a little tipsy. Rachel somehow convinced me to check out Brooker's show at Broken City, even though he was finished by the time we got there. S'cool, though, as we still got to hang out with him afterwards. And: apparently I'm a homophobe for telling some drunk asshole that his glasses weren't as pretty as he thought they were - oh, my mistake, some drunk gay asshole.

You go ahead and make any joke you want to, right there. I won't join in, but neither will I stop you.

What we've learned, though, is that sometimes it's a good thing to socialize with people whom you don't immediately hate, and sometimes it's a good thing to drink alcoholic beverages with them, and sometimes Broken City ain't a bad place to be, especially when Brooker magically produces pizza out of thin air. Brooker Buckingham = Rock God.

Rachel and Ian are pretty good shit, too.

Anyway: Buffalo's out, which means that a) I either shave the beard off completely, or else start to actually maintain it, and y'all know how bad I am at that shit, so expect Chris to be bald in the face again soon; and b) hockey's pretty much a non-issue now, just like basketball, as both playoff series promise to be as exciting as, say, masturbating for the sixth time in one day.

Which I've never done. Ever. I'm just guessing that it'd become, y'know, old hat after the fourth or fifth time...

Did I mention that Pelican have put their ENTIRE NEW ALBUM up on their website? Have I mentioned that you'd be a fool to not check it out? Also: you can order Pelican Underoos, because, as they put it, "Oh...This record has cock rock riffs, therefore we had to make the underwear." That's called class, yo.

Things:

1. Boingboing was allowed to name one of Virgin's new airplanes, and they went and called it Unicorn Chaser; and yet, I'M NOT ALLOWED TO OWN A GUN. I swear to god, I'm boycotting those emo fucks for, like, an hour...

2. OMG! I totally had no idea that it would cost money to text people on my phone instead of using it to, y'know, call them...

3. Apparently it's normal for our food supply to be tainted. Granted, this is from MSNBC, so the article itself might be a tad suspect, but still...

4. Holy crap. Holycrapholycrapholycrap. Twyla, you're right: the robots are coming to get us.

5. I believe in Harvey Dent.

6. I believe in Harvey Dent, too. Even if Big Clint hates Heath Ledger.

...and now I've become too nerdy even for me. This is me going to bed, because I'm old and must get my rest or else I'll be cranky and then customers will want to "have a chat with the managers of Beano about one of their little employees..." (yes, that's from an actual conversation I had tonight; I heart the service industry.)

Drunk blog #1: It's all Rachel's fault.

Only because I am slightly inebriated. This will be short. because my bed seems comfy, and it's way over there, and I must go to it!

Honestly: I am the cheapest date ever. I swear, one drink and I can't understand what you're saying, because. See? I can't even finish that sentence. I'm sure this would be just adorable if I were, like, twenty, but as I'm in my thirties? It's just sad. No wonder I don't have a girlfriend.

Brooker Buckingham bought me pizza. That's the best thing to happen at Broken City since P.J. made faces of disgust while watching the bartender butcher 'Jane Says' during Sunday Karaoke. That was funny. What is wrong with my life that I have attended Sunday Karaoke?

Chai is stupid. Soy chai lattes are just fucking ghey, and if you drink them, you are a goddamned hippy and deserve my scorn. I ahve spoken.

Here is that catchy 'Young Folks' song, because Peter, Bjorn & John are good, despite the fact that the Norwegians are starting to creep me out:

Here is that amazing song by The Thermals, because they have a cute chick bass player, plus also they are good:

Here is also that Cloud Cult song that I've been asking Maxx about for the last four months, because it is good and I want it but I've been calling it by the wrong name all this time:

Lastly, here is the new Polyphonic Spree, because Tim Delaughter is good in a creepy desperate kinda way, but when those girls doing the backup vocals come in, the whole thing becomes brilliant and it feels like you're part of something bigger than yourself, even if just for a moment:

Now I'm going to bed.

Eh...Miss?

B.R.M.C., Baby 81: yes, I know that they're just The Jesus & Mary Chain with leather jackets and pouting lips, but at least they're doing it well. Well...kinda; not every track's a winner, but I'm liking it, and it's better than any of that twee-crap that everyone's gaga about lately...

Twin Peaks, Season 2, from wherever I was then to wherever I am now: I have the last two epsiodes to go, the ones Lynch wanted to do on his own, after he'd heard that the show was getting the axe. With good reason, too, as after Lynch left and they'd revealed who the killer was, the show became almost unwatchable. There's maybe one storyline out of ten that holds your attention, although the episode directed by Diane Keaton deserves special applause for at least attempting to restore the aesthetic that the rest of the camera-monkeys seemed to have pissed on.

Also: I think Billy Zane just likes to wear tight pants, and David Duchovny is the world's worst tranvestite. I think.

These last two epsidoes, though...from what I remember, shit gets ALL kindsa effed up:

Anyway.

One week until Vancouver, people. One week until my baby sister graduates, and we're all grown-ups. I know, it's scary...

Records left skipping, clothing all scattered.

Twin Peaks, Season 2, so far:

1. See, not only have I been watching simply to enjoy the series (as one would a fine aged wine, or a hobo kept in storage for the weekend)(I have no idea what I mean by that, either...), it's also interesting to try and pinpoint just where they went wrong, as it's no secret that the show went a little south when Lynch went off to direct his own version of The Wizard Of Oz. They're all still in fine form here, but the introduction of a character like Dick Tremayne seems to be a big indication of someone starting to phone it in.

2. The only good thing about the scene where The Kids play their love song in the living room is at the end, when Bob shows up and causes Maddie to seriously lose her shit.

3. This is Lynch putting himself in the story; just try and tell me it isn't.

4."I love you, Sherriff Truman."; and I love you, Albert Rosenfield. Woof, yourself.

5. While I won't spoil what happens in Episode 14, I will say that it one of the most brilliant pieces of televised fiction ever created, almost rivalling this series' finale. Oh, yeah: I said it. What?

Wilco, Sky Blue Sky: okay, aside from Tweedy's obvious fetish for all things Woody Guthrie (may he spend eternity in Abaddon getting pulverized into nothingness for inspiring hippies to be so...hippy-ish), I don't see why everyone's got such a hate-on for this album; in fact if you didn't see this one coming after their reinvention on A Ghost Is Born, then you weren't really paying attention, were you? If anything, it reminds me of the later-era Beatles, circa Let It Be. I dunno. I like it, and my taste is always better than yours, so there.

So.

Grindhouse.

I will admit: I had fun, mainly because I watched it with Meagan (who screams at EVERYTHING, which is why she's coming to every movie I ever go to again in my entire life), but also because, well, it was fun. I will, however, maintain that this whole 'grindhouse' idea is just another excuse for these two to make bad movies. Planet Terror was obviously the better of the two, as it never once took itself seriously, but the sad fact is that most of Rodriguez' movies turn out this way anyway. Death Proof was just inane, and it was nice to have Meagan confirm that Tarentino knows shit-all about women; he might've regained some of the overall ambience with that last car chase, but my faith in him producing anything of quality ever again is fast dwindling.

Those trailers, though? Fan-fucking-tastic.

Next week: 28 Weeks Later. Cuz zombies rock.

I gots me more Twin Peaks to watch, and there are only so many hours in the day, so you can stop bothering me now. Here's Les Savy Fav, just because they're on my headphones now:

Twin Peaks, Season 2, Epsiode 1 (or 8, if you wanna get technical, but whatever...)

So. I think to myself, "Hey, I've got this Dvd set of a TV show I loved when it was actually on, oh, almost twenty friggin' years ago, maybe I should start watching it, see how it holds up!"

Halfway in: okay, it's still good, but some of that noir-ish dialogue in a 'modern' setting falls really flat, and Dana Ashbrook is really over the fucking top. Dude. All your Dad said was that he had a dream where he hugged you. Don't get all weepy.

But: Dale Cooper tips his waiter while bleeding from a gunshot wound in his gut. The man is seriously the shit. Plus: I heart Albert Rosenfield.

And then we come to this scene:

...oh. Oh, that's right. Yeah, um, now I remember why I loved this show.

Top Marks For Not Trying.

Okay, the Arctic Monkeys don't bore me anymore. Favourite Worst Nightmare is like Blur meets The Buzzcocks. It's not a great album by any means, as it falls apart halfway through the discm, but the first four songs will knock you out, punk. Plus, I'm probably one of four people in the entire world who'll get the Duran Duran reference on 'Teddy Picker'. Enjoy:


Links for the day, for I am tired in the head and have no more cleverness:

1. "Guatemala is a good place to commit a murder, because you will almost certainly get away with it."

2. "Will Fuck For Shoes."
(Edit: apparently people are having problems linking to this site; basically, it's full of really pretty shirts that have very bad things nicely embroidered on them, like "I Like It Rough", "WFFS", that sorta thing. Just in time for Mother's Day.)

That's all. My allergies are being jerks again. Go away before I sneeze on you.

I have a One Year Pass to the French Maid. I'm a little concerned that something like this has fallen into my posession. In fact, I'm quite terrified.

Anyway: gotta make this quick, as I woke up late, laundry needs to be done, cats need to be punched.

1. Brain-sculpting, is, like, my favourite new term.

2. Now, this is how you have a stand-off with the police...

3. "If the late former President Gerald Ford could find it in his heart to pardon the late former President Richard Nixon after his mistake(s), we undeniably support Paris Hilton being pardoned for her honest mistake."
(Edit: I only posted this because of the sheer lunacy of such a petition; it's not as though I think Ms. Hilton should be celebrated in any way, unless she was tied to stake and set on fire, but even then we'd be paying too much attention to her...)

(Yes, I stole all three of those from Warren Ellis' site. What?)

4. Dude. He committed suicide by CHOPPING OFF HIS OWN HEAD. With a CHAINSAW. Wow. I am...I am so in awe, even if it is abominable.

5. No arms, one leg, stole a car, kicked a state trooper, headbutted his wife. It's like an after-school special on meth.

6. I want George Bush to put out an album of John Lennon songs. Open Source Cinema rocks me like a hurricane.

7. Did anyone actually ask Bruce Willis about his thoughts on conspiracy theories, or did he just feel like, y'know, throwing it out there?

I must go shower now, for I stink. It's really that simple.

Muddy With Twigs And Branches

1. I don't know if this is something that really inspires pride in my fellow human beings; if anything, it causes me to loathe you all even more, as you all obviously spend too much time drooling over mediocre karaoke singers and horribly unfunny fratboys.

2. I have the new Bjork. One song in, and it's already incredible. It also goes along way to proving what I've always maintained about Timbaland: brilliant as a producer, nothing but dead weight when he's in the spotlight.

I also have the new Dinosaur Jr.; as much as I'm sure I'll like it, I think I'm only buying it out of habit. We'll see. (Holy Toledo! J Mascis got OLD!)

3. Why hasn't the new Battles album come out yet? Wasn't it supposed to be available in, like, December? I know more than half of the people who work at all the cool record stores, and I demand satisfaction, goddamn it. This is the kind of brilliance we're being deprived of:



...I know: it hurts to have to wait. Fuckers.

4. I swear to god this wasn't me. I ain't got nothing against city hall, and my preferred form of civic protest is to just not pay my taxes for multiple years on end. Plus, I once shot an eagle with a pellet gun when I was kid, and I still feel kinda bad about it...

5. ...and you wonder why I have such a dismal view of humanity.

6. Sarah Ford: I want a 3-piece meal from Chicken On The Way, and I want you to bring it to Beano, and I want it tonight, or the next time I see you, I'm putting peanut butter in your hair.

Anyway: since no one wants to go see Spiderman 3 with me tonight (Dan Roy calls it 'the worst movie ever', but then Dan plays with fireworks for a living...), I'm gonna go play basketball by myself and then help out at work, because I have no life of my own. Maybe that weird asian kid who hangs out at the church will be my friend for a few hours, at least...(getcher minds outta the gutter; he just likes to shoot hoops, that's all)...

We've got rules and maps and guns in our backs.

I've lately taken to assigning team names to my co-workers and I during any given shift; Steph & I were 'Team Amazing', Ocean & I were 'Team Awesome', Andy & I were 'Team Rock-On!!!', etc.

Rachel and I are 'Team Dum'. We were 'Team DURRR!!!' at first, simply because we both spent the majority of our shift together making retard noises (she has an advantage, as she herds them for a living...), but tonight proved that the new name is a tad more applicable, as it seems the two of us cannot get through a shift without horribly mutilating ourselves. Take this exchange, for example:

"Rachel, did you just cut yourself on that broken glass you were washing?"
"...yes."
"Do you need a band-aid?"
"...yes."

At which point I pretended that I knew what I was doing and tried wrapping band-aids that had more in common with limp pasta noodles than anything else around her spurting wounds. I think I managed to cover at least one of them; nor can I feel superior, as I did the same thing to myself yesterday, resulting in Kimmy having to play nurse-maid while I paled at the sight of my own blood, and then I ripped open my pinkie finger tonight while trying to change the paper towels in the bathroom.

That's what I get for working at a place where the common practice is to open the towel dispenser with a paper clip. I will say nothing of a certain someone's attempt to pour garbage from the LARGE trashcan into the SMALLER one, because apparently I am a BAD COMMUNICATOR.

Right.

I swear to god, we are both imbeciles. I now have only four working fingers, and my work week just began. Hope you like Life Brand Band-aid fibres in your non-fat half-caf lactose-free machiatto with no foam and a dash of cinammon, jerkwads.

While I'm ranting: if you plan on coming to Beano, please take a moment to read our menu before ordering. Chances are good that it's quite different from the one at Starbucks, or at Second Cup, or (god forbid) Tim Hortons. DO NOT assume that we all make the same drinks; in fact, if you even utter the phrase "...they have it at Starbucks...", there's an even better chance that the foam in your drink will not be made from milk. Hell, you'd be lucky to be leaving without one of us throwing something at you.

Also: please don't ask me to suggest something for you. I'm here to serve you your coffee, not make decisions for you. If you put me in this position, I will serve your drink in a sippy-cup and make you wear a bib, you halfwit.

Please don't ever tell me that you're feeling 'frothy'. That's just something I don't want to hear from a grown-up.

One last bitch: don't come in at the end of the night and ask for the fresh baking, when the food we have at the front is perfectly fine. You know perfectly well that we bake later on in the evening so that we'll have it ready for the following morning; that's why you've timed your little passive-aggressive visit to our establishment to occur at this precise moment. The food we have ready for you is probably only a few hours old, and when we're talking cookies and brownies and shit like that, that's plenny fine. Plus: you may come in every night, but that doesn't make you a preferred customer. Familiarity breeds contempt, assface. Your paltry $1.25 purchase does little to sway me; I have no problem being That Guy, the one who lies to you about having no fresh baking while plates of it sit in plain view behind the counter. Suck it.

...gee, you'd think I hated my job or something.

Actually, despite all this, work has been great lately. Who am I kidding? Work has yet to really suck at Beano. This is mainly because my co-workers tend to be super-awesome-fantastic, and I'm not just saying that because most of them can read this (but you are: I'd give each of you a puppy made out of ice cream, were I able...), but it also has to do with the fact that I don't actually have to wake up until 3:00 in the afternoon in order to get to work on time.

Which is why I'm posting this at 4:00 in the morning: 'cuz I'm allowed, bitches.

Hey, this new Feist is actually really good. Yes, I know Let It Die was some sort of tribute to French Pop Genius Serge Gainsbourg (I think that's his name; I always get confused when it comes to the French, but then again, I'm Canadian...), but fuck me silly, did that the album ever put me to sleep. Seriously, the thing could've been used as anesthetic during surgery...The Reminder, though? Aces.

And this new Nine Inch Nails? I'm sorry, Mr. Reznor, but after three good songs, it just fucks off into pointless, insipid noise. I don't care if it's your new big concept piece about how we live in a fascist state that disguises itself as a free society (hey, there's a new one one...); it's goddamned boring. At the very least, I could always expect some sexy hook or delicious groove to accompany your usual angst-ridden, fishnet-drenched bitching; now that you've actually got something to say, your music seems to have gone to shit.

Oh, but look, the CD's heat-sensitive, so it changes colour when you play it! That makes up for EVERYTHING!

Ahem...STAR WARS NERD POSES NUDE TO RAISE MONEY FOR...well...something. I think. Actually, he's only half nude, really...and to be honest, I wanted to make fun of him, but the more I think about it, the more respect I have for a guy who's able to poke fun at himself and make some money at the same time. Hell, I could learn something from him...

...okay, now I'm depressed.

I'm gonna go play video games now, because Holland won't liberate itself, y'know.

Yes, Margaret, cowboys have mustaches. It's the LAW.

(It's an inside joke. Anyway:)

I am not going to talk about Facebook because no one cares. It's just another way for me to exchange insults with people. Of course, I take full advantage of it.

I will say this: it's weird to 'connect' with people I haven't spoken to for over a decade or more. It's like all my friends, past and present, are getting together to talk about me or something...

I'm not paranoid AT ALL.

It's almost been a week since I left Office Hell, and this is my first day off, so I'm not sure how I feel. Certainly, it's good to be out of the cubicle (which was kinda comforting in a 'I get to build a fort at work' sorta way), but my head still feels like paste. It'll take a few days of masturbation and video games before I start to feel normal again.

(Mom, don't read that part.)

Stuff:

1. I don't know which part bothers me more: the guy dressing up as a superhero, or the fact that this only appears on a website for golfers.

2. I shouldn't be surprised that I found this through Warren Ellis' site, but: Quantum tantra? Huh.

NBA stuff:

1. Sure, they almost blew a 20-pt lead, but people have to remember that the Raptors are playing the Nets, here; this is Jason Kidd and Vince Carter, and they're gonna stomp you any chance they get.

2. Of course Iverson's not playing up to his potential; whaddya expect's gonna happen when you ditch him off to a brand new team just before the playoffs? I'm not hoping for miracles in tonight's game, but at least the A.I.'s man enough to accept responsibilty for his game.

3. I hate Mark Cuban. I just do.

NHL stuff:

I got nuthin'; I've missed every game since the Flames got knocked out, simply because of work, so I'm a little disconnected, despite having Nelson show up at Beano every time a goal's scored. I just don't see anyone beating Buffalo this year, and at this point, it's all about watching Derek's whiny Canucks choke, and soon. (Don't worry, Derek, it'll happen...)

Spiderman 3 in 3 days. Hell, yes, I'm excited.

Pelican, 'City Of Echoes', June 05. If you're not drooling over this release then you are WRONG. End of story. Also: y'all should be listening to Big Business, too, or these guys will come to your house and rip your ears off.

Apparently William Gibson's 'Spook Country' has been pushed back until Fall, which is okay, as it'll give me a chance to read some of the other hundred books my addiction has forced me to acquire over the last six months.

If you're not watching The Venture Brothers, then I cannot help you.

Wow. It's 2:30, I stink, and I'm still wearing sweatpants. I better go put some clothes on before I start buying lotto tickets and thinking that wrestling is real.



Oh, look, it's Modest Mouse again! How'd that happen?