I really felt I should say something before my week was over.

That being said.

Happy Birthday Da German.

I don't know why someone would be sending out spam about me.

"Shatter Her Meat Tunnel with Your Huge Husky Knob"

What does that even mean? I feel like I might be losing my grasp on the English language.

I think t@p was so excited about posting on here that he died. Sad really.

Here's that Finding Nemo review I promised. That's right. I'm liking the fish.

Here's that Music story chart URL. Sorry it's in ittybittyeyestrain text. Here's the one that talks about Mac sites.

And here's the first banner ad I've ever tried to make. I had no idea animated gifs were so easy to do. Feel free to spread this around the Internet like "Titty Bingo" stickers:

I helped with a big music service comparison thing in today's paper, but it's not up online yet (it's not like we have deadlines or anything. We're just a newspaper). I'll link to it later when it shows up.

For now, though...

Finding Nemo: Go see it. If you have or know kids, take them. It's really, really good, much better than what I expected based on the sub-par previews I'd seen of it. If you like Ellen DeGeneres even a tiny bit, it's worth the price of admission. She's perfect for the voice of a cartoon character. And there's a great Pixar short and an even better preview for the next Pixar movie, The Incredibles before the film. Seriously. This one's another winner. I did a small story on Pixar too that you can read here. I've got a full review in tomorrow's paper. I'll link to it when it goes up.

Wrong Turn: (Or, The Blair Witch Boobies.) If I were a little younger and a lot hornier, I might pay to see it just for watching Eliza Dushku in a tank top for an hour and a half, but sadly those days are gone. There've been no reviews of this movie anywhere, which is always a bad sign.

The Italian Job: What the fuck happened to Edward Norton? He used to make really interesting, cool movies and now every movie he's in is about how unlikable and slimy he is. You're dating Salma Hayek, man, lighten up. Do a romantic comedy or something. Stop trying to be Fight Club Guy. And can we have a fucking moratorium on heist movies already? The Heist, The Score, Ocean's 11, Confidence... How about The Movie With the Obligatory Safe-Cracking Scene Which Nobody Under 40 Cares To See? Oh, but props for getting "Job" into the title.

Shanghai Ghetto: Another week, another Holocuast movie. Not to minimize or anything, but seriously, this is three weeks in a row. And that's not even counting The Pianist on DVD (which you should absolutely go buy or rent right now). I may go see this if I'm suddenly feeling too happy and need to find some equilibrium.

What time is it??!! I got to work at 7 a.m. and have now consumed not the allotted ONE, but the living-on-the-edge TWO SlimFast Breakfast Bars. I'm flipped out on Potassium!

You know, why don't more hip hop artists reference Potassium? It totally goes with Platinum. By the way, Omar, I cannot find any inside info about your boy Mystikal, the alleged rapist. Even my source over at the Swifty Serve where I stop every morning claims to know nothing. I love that guy. He never even tries to hide his issue of Black Tail Magazine (which has a website to which I refuse to link for fear of my safety) on the counter.

And, since you biatches dared to demure when confronted with my mad street skillz, I bring you this: an explanation as to the strange and wonderful feud currently going on between two huge rap labels. Look for the shells to be flying, ASAP. This interview with Busta Rhymes made me pound on the table. He son was checking him.

I swear, I have no other news. Y'all are already covering the basketball...

Speaking of funny....

Someone sent me this today. I am a supporter of The Matrix: Reloaded, but I still found it hilarious.

It's your momma too, dumbass

Shhhhh! Don't tell t@p, but I'm gonna go ahead and post without him. I just wanted to take this time to write about my and Omar's love affair with the Spurs' Argentinean guard Manu Ginobili.

This man is crazy. I'll say it again. CRAZY! His reckless abandon has captured our hearts, maybe more so than Rony Seikaly.

Here's a sample of an IM conversation between Omar and me during a Spurs game:

Omar (10:06:22 PM): Ginobili!
Auto response from PJ (10:06:22 PM): If you'll excuse me, I have to go and put some water in Omar's momma's dish.

Session concluded at 10:15:27 PM

PJ (10:34:49 PM): GINOBILI!
Omar (10:37:49 PM): heh.

Session concluded at 10:40:27 PM

...that I share with y'all the exciting news: we're big in India.

One of these times, I'll stop interrupting.

But for now, there's this. Holy fucking crap! Eddie Izzard! On tour!

To my friends in cool cities like Toronto, L.A. and San Fran, how do you feel about sneaking video equipment into a live show?

And what's this? -- "We're planning on a southern swing in January, but that's not definite yet..."

Don't tease like that, Eddie. Don't break my heart.

I’ve always been a dollar short, so that’s nothing too new.

And just to get it out of my system: I’m Terribly Happy to be here.

I had an outstanding Memorial Day weekend. Went to the coast with several friends. Actually I went to the coast with one friend, and one acquaintance. Number One invited me to tag along. I met a whole new cast of interesting characters. Frankenstein was this fairly short man who managed to compress all his laughter into one high-pitched squeak.

Everything else was pretty much coast like.

With the coast expedition over (We drove about 600 miles in one day) I managed to start what I thought would be a party, but turned out to just be a chill session with 2 others. All in all, it was a nice 23 hour long day, followed by another.

The next day I was supposed to have gone tubing, but as it would turn out, I’ll just save that for later. Cause before I could put the right pieces into the right places, it was dark.

When my brother Omar invited me to guest blog on his site, at first I was honored. Then, I was nervous. Then, I was nauseous. Then, I was irritated with the E.R. staff. Then, I was hungry. Then, I was upset with the Whataburger staff. Then, I was sleepy. And when I awoke, I was here. Go fig.

So far everyone's been linking to news stories and such, so I think I'm just going to link to this acid trip I had which was so courteously (and creepily) recorded and posted on the net.

THEN. I'll insert a shameless plug here.

Look, I love Al Lowe as much as you, but just because the girl lost all her worldly possessions and her dog doesn't mean I can't tease her. I mean, damn, we had a blood-spilling karaoke duel! She's used to it. She's not gonna let some cinder and ash and burnt up Lucinda CDs get between...

Hey Al? Al? Where you going? Hey, why you crying?

Dude, that's harsh. You know why Al reads so much hip-hop news online? Because her books all burned up. Why don't you buy her one?

Got a quick pimp to do: The last Smallville recap of the season is up and ready for wide and fast dissemination.

Boy, Al sure does read up on her hip-hop. Hey, Allison, is anything going on with my man Mystikal? Is he in jail, or what?

Apparently, racial discrimination is about to end, and it will all be down to fashion. Ludacris is going to be popping an actual cap (on your head), according to this story - which contains maybe the newsday's all-time best quote - and we all gon' be thuggin', together at last. I knew the Style Channel was eventually going to pay for itself in good deeds.

Also, Dre's mama done had to shoot some bitch's ass UP!

Well, I'm happy to report that someone e-mailed asking about that digital-civet contact and he seems very enthusiastic. I gave him your home phone number, Pineapple. Hope that's okay.

I'm for real: SARS first started in China because people keep eating skunk. If you Google SARS and "civet", y'all will see. It's foul. And, Omar? the Google hit might ping for me, but it's your website. I am passing the Freak Torch to you, amigo.

What is Pineapple talking about cats' asses? I just read on CNN that SARS was traced back to some old man in Toronto. Or, hell, maybe that's not really what they're saying, but I don't want to read the whole thing. People, do you see why I don't "blog?" It requires one to have one's facts straight, and I'm like Jayson Blair with my reporting skills. Yeah, you heard it here first - A Terribly Happy Bloggystyle Exclusive: SARS Linked to American Hero Jessica Lynch.

I'm going to try not to go commenting on stuff people post here this week (it's Guest Week!), but Pineapple has maybe one of the all-time creepiest stories ever about online fame (it involves snails and she'll probably only ever tell you about it if you meet her in person).

This is all I'm gonna say about that: When you write about jamming your hand up a civet cat's ass, ask not for whom the Google hit pings. It pings for thee.

Lawd, am I the first one? This isn't cool -- I feel like that couple who rings your bell at 9:00 pm on the dot, with big bright smiles and a demure bottle of wine in a lovely gift sack from Grapevine Market, and they sit on the couch and look around, waiting for someone else to arrive while you'll be "just a minute" ('cause you're still barefoot and haven't put on lipstick yet). S'okay -- the other kids'll be at Omar's party soon, and they'll be the boisterous blowsy crowd swooping in late with a bottle of Laphroaig they cracked to sample for "quality assurance" on the way over. I'm the blowsy girl in real life, so this is a sweet change.

So, I'm reading the Wall Street Journal this morning (a phrase difficult to write with a straight face, because it sounds so pompous), and I see that the origin of SARS has been traced to civet cats. Not that they are running around attacking people (When Good Civets Go Bad), you see -- but that they are considered a winter delicacy among the southern Chinese. As in, for eating.

And even if they weren't being eaten, I'd think that jamming your hand in one's ass could give you the SARS too. You know these are just fancier skunks, right?

This week, we've go a few special guests around here. I'll go ahead and let them introduce themselves as they arrive. Give them some love!

Go be sad.

Enjoy!

True quotes:

Eight-year-old kid: I want some milk.

Eight-year-old's dad: We don't have milk. Have some wine.