You've gotta love mobile wireless. It's not just the shit. It's the whole colon.

This was sent going about 65 mph down one of the last stretches to get to McAllen.

Watched half of Spellbound last night. It's damned brilliant. Go see it if it's playing near you.

I forgot to tell you about how I had a bug guy at my house last weekend and while he was there, I was killing time, watching the Back to the Future DVD. I must have had it on loud because he was setting traps in the attic and later came down saying, "I heard some people talking." He said it almost in an accusing way, as if I was hiding talking rodents in the house. "Oh, I was just watching a movie."

"Really?" he asked, "it sounded so real."

I was so worried this guy might think that I'd somehow, with my friend Doc, figured out a way to travel to 1955 and get my dad to fall in love with my mom. I half-expected him to check my garage for a DeLoreon. The upshot, though, was that he gave me a discount and told me he knew where he could get me a flux capacitor.

Dumb and Dumberer: The reviews so far are AWFUL. Positively poopily awful. Only one critic I've seen dared to say it was funny, but our reviewer told me he went to the screening last night and there was just a lot of silence and one guy next to him dozing. Eric Christian Olsen, though, does look scarily like Jim Carrey in the trailers. I didn't feel bad about skipping Bruce Almighty and I sure as shit won't feel bad passing on this one.

Hollywood Homicide: The trailer for this was so bad, so faux, "We're not in a buddy cop movie. We're in a send-up of buddy cop movies!" that it made me physically nauseous. If DeNiro and Eddie Murphy couldn't pull off that formula, don't think that you, Mr. Ford and Josh "Adenoidal Gland" Hartnett can do any better. Seriously, what is up with Hartnett's voice? I haven't had this jarring a reaction to a white boy opening his mouth since Rick Astley.

House of Fools: Two hours in a Russian insane asylum with a cameo by Bryan Adams singing his shitty song from Don Juan Demarco. Wheee!

Rugrats Go Wild: I love all manner of kiddie cartoons, but Rugrats has always just lost me. I love Jimmy Neutron, Powerpuff Girls, most of Cartoon Network's original line-up. Something about Rugrats has just never struck me as funny. Maybe it's fear of having children. Bruce Willis plays the voice of a dog named Spike. There needs to be a movie, perhaps by Pixar, where Bruce Willis does all the wisecracking voices of all the objects and characters who can't normally talk. The Bruce Willis wisecracking sofa, the Bruce Willis wisecracking stapler, the Bruce Willis wisecracking coma victim. It would be box office gold! As for Spike the dog, Spike Lee is all mad now because not only did they use his name, but they turned him into a dog. The Man always trying to keep Spike Lee down.

Spellbound: Boo-yah! Got a screener tape of this and I can't wait to watch. Spelling bees in general are just amazingly fascinating things, far more entertaining than, say, American Idol. All the reviews for this have been raves. Try to find it if it comes to your town.

Oh, in the film listings linked up there, I was able to get that Harrison Ford thing in. I'd have to say I'm about as proud as can be to get a written spit-take into the newspaper.

You know what they say about the calm before the storm, right?

No? Fuck. I was hoping you could tell me.

It was getting to be really quiet for a week or two and then suddenly (crash, bang, pow, booboo on the finger!), activity is exploding in huge shrapnel chunks like... big pieces of shrapnelly grenade. Right.

The show this weekend in McAllen, Texas, (which you can read about at the site), is on, so I'll be driving down Friday morning, making a detour to South Padre Island (horale!) Sunday, then driving back Monday to rest for the Wednesday trip to New York. Somewhere in all this is father's day, then my father's birthday next week (he turns 50. 50! FIF-TEE!), the birthdays of other friends and close ones, and in July, a fairly certain showcase show in L.A. for some Hollywood Types for LCP. (It sucks and breaks my heart that this showcase may make me miss Pamie's big Austin book signing. Fate is a bitter bitch.)

It's gotten to where I can hardly sleep at night anymore because things are moving so quickly that I'm afraid I'll miss something. I've gotten back on the writing horse after six months of nasty bucking with a script I need to work on for a fellowship application (long story, not worth the time to go into), as well as the dusty, frayed novel that I set aside six months ago because of recap, LCP and life committments. Now I stay up until 2 every night, even if it's just to write for 30 minutes and spend the other hour and a half after midnight playing "Bookworm Deluxe." The pages stack up and it feels good. It's really the best way I've found to get a good night's sleep. Nothing keeps me tossing and turning worse than knowing I've let another night pass without working on something for the future.

I'm worried about my work psyche. I vacillate from psychotic anger and frustration, railing against indignities, real or imagined, to being grateful and thrilled to have a job that allows me to write something like, "Like fine wine, Harrison Ford only gets better with age. (Spit!) Wait a minute. This wine tastes terrible!" for the newspaper of record and get paid for it. Which isn't precisely true because all the writing I do is sort of on my own time and not part of my "job description." So, essentially, I'm writing for free when I don't have to. But screw it, if writing for free means taking down Harrison Ford a micrometer of a peg, then sign my ass up. Then sign up my hands because I'll need them for that de-pegging.

This is one of those strange weeks there Things are Happening. I can feel it, as if the plates in the Earth are shouting their presence. Relationships are changing, opportunities are opening and closing up. It happens this way every week, everywhere, but it's not every week that you feel it; the machinery beneath you chugging, cogs grinding against each other. I'm not sure which way things are spinning, but I do know that nothing is still right now.

Radiohead's new album Hail to the Thief (it's not as pretentious as it sounds, honest. Well, shit, maybe it is a little.) came out today and I don't have it.

I downloaded the non-mastered bootleg months ago and love it. But I didn't pull a pirate and not buy the real album. In fact, I pre-ordered it from Amazon a while back, and it's now making its leisurely way to Austin via Super Saver Shipping, the shipping option that is wonderful for your wallet, but absolutely pissy for your psyche. So while every amateur musician and hipster in Austin is banging their head to "2 + 2 = 5," I'm stuck with my suddenly obsolete MP3s. And everyone's dancing around me with their shiny CDs.

Annoying perky, yet musically savvy clerk I work with: I got the new Radiohead today!

Omar: Really.

APYMSCIWW: I walked right up to the counter at Waterloo and I said, "Do you have the new Radiohead?" And they said, "Yes." And I said, "I'll take one copy of the new Radiohead." And the guy asked me, "Don't you want to look around for anything else?" I told him, "No! That's it!"

Omar: ...

APYMSCIWW: Anyway you should really go buy it!

Omar: I, uh, pre-ordered, the, uh, Amazon, mail, and, uh, 5-7 days...

APYMSCIWW: What? Can't hear you. I've had Radiohead's new album rolling around in my head all day.

I managed to get some work done and then Jeremy called.

Jeremy: Hey, man. What do you think?

Omar: About what?

Jeremy: The new album! I'm listening to it right now.

Omar: I... I don't have it yet.

Jeremy: The vocals are a little differently layered from the bootleg.

Omar: (Whimper)

Jeremy: Are you at work?

Omar: Yeah.

Jeremy: Call me tonight after you've listened to it.

Omar: (Inaudible moan)

PJ says there's all kinds of cool little videos on Radiohead's official site. Frankly, I'm too depressed to go over there.

It's whirlwind time again. This Friday and Saturday we're doing our "Sketches of Mass Distraction" show in McAllen, Texas (woo hoo Valley!) and I'm spinning that into a vacation that will include (but not be limited to) a visit to South Padre Island and a visit to New York!

I just booked tickets to "The Lion King" and if I play my evil cards right, I may get to go check out Conan O'Brien. Speaking of which, does anyone know where I can score evil cards? No, not the Iraq's Most Wanted ones.

This last weekend was alternately crazy and wonderful. There was a moment Saturday night where I was sitting outside at Mozart's and the weather was breezy and cool. A group of us was sitting at a bench as a singer was twanging away and people were drinking their coffee drinks. A group of Asian teens was yelling at each other in their native language and holding arm wrestling contests right across from us. Andy was showing us her new color Sidekick and all just seemed right in the world. It was beautiful and peaceful and there was cheesecake. Perfection.

And just when I thought things couldn't get better? V!