The Finding Nemo DVD review is up. Life is good.

I had the idea for an illustration of an adult haunted house (adult as in mature, not adult as in porny), and this was the result. It was one of those instances where except for having the initial idea, I didn't do a damn bit of work on it except to help come up with a few of the rooms. (The pumpkins and the redistricting yard are mine.) Hand-offs are cool sometimes.

Also in today's paper, a short review I wrote of a videogame, Jak II. I'll link to the Finding Nemo review as soon as it goes up.

Road Runner is having nationwide e-mail problems (spam attacks!), so my work email forwarding is disabled (and by extension, my terribly happy e-mail forwarding is disabled), so if you need to mail me during the day, catch me here. If it's after about 6 p.m. or this weekend, e-mail me here. Hopefully, this'll be fixed by Monday.

We can get through this together, people. Now put on those safety goggles.

Somebody told me that last entry below is a MEME. Meme. MeMe. Memmmy!

Alien: The Director's Cut: Hot damn. How can you possibly do better than this on Halloween? How? ANSWER ME, DAMN YOU! No, really, it's a great movie, now remastered, with little deleted scenes added in that'll eventually make it to a new DVD edition in a few months. But in a theater: I can't even imagine. I've gotta see this. I also read a wire story about it that mentions that Ridley Scott is known for his downbeat endings. I guess I never thought about it before, but that does seem to be a running theme. Can you think of a Ridley Scott movie where nearly everybody didn't die at the end? Things like that make a Gladiator sequel mighty tricky.

In the Cut: I liked The Piano and all, but jeez, Jane Campion, could you come back down to earth for a bit and make a movie people actually want to see? One that's not all dark and obsessive and creepy and paints men as these carnal slabs of meat who want nothing more than to treat women like rare steaks? Meg Ryan naked? Not helping to break down my defenses.

Jane Campion: Meg. Get naked.

Meg Ryan: What? Well... um... do I have to show my dimples?

Jane Campion: No.

Meg Ryan: Cool. Let's rock 'n roll.

My Life Without Me: I've been waiting for Sarah Polley to break out as a big star ever since one of my favorite movies, The Sweet Hereafter, but instead she keeps playing depressed little waifs who are either dying or looking sad all the time. Are they casting for T4? Sarah, call your agent. This one's about a woman dying, but she doesn't tell anybody and uses it as an excuse to cheat on her husband. So, yeah, a feel-good film for the holidays, obviously.

Brother Bear: (Opens Saturday) Typically, I go review the Disney/Pixar movies whether I think they'll be good or bad (I expected "Nemo" to be a disappointment based on the trailers; man, was I wrong), but after Treasure Planet, I had to revise my strategy. Good thing because this one looks like crap on a nature hike stick. It was one instance where I just wasn't willing to take one for team. Sorry, Brother Bear: Maybe we'll meet again on that vast spiritual plane known as cable TV. My spirit animal is a lemur, by the way.

Sylvia: Love Gwyneth. Love Plath. Love the idea for this movie. Will I go see it? Hell to the naw. I already saw The Hours, and I think I've fulfilled my quota for movies about suicidal, depressed women this year.

Matrix Revolutions: It opens on a Wednesday and I'm supposed to see it Monday, so I'll just fill you in then. Let me just say that the rancid, poopy taste of Reloaded still lingers in the back of my throat like a bad oyster. Hope I'm not wasting another 2 1/2 hours of my life here.

DVDs: Still loving Finding Nemo on DVD. It's got fantastic extras. Also getting ready to check out Hulk (which I thought was just OK in theaters; bonus, though -- the DVD doubles as an Xbox game) and a set of promotional DVDs of The O.C., which is the bestest guilty pleasure on TV. I'm not even guilty. I'm just pleasured.

Tomorrow and Saturday: Links to stuff and a Halloween download surprise.

Because I don't have cute sidebars like Livejournal people:

Working on: Writing a DVD review of Finding Nemo that runs in Saturday's newspaper. Also a game review of Jak II and editing a story about The Alamo getting pushed back.

Working on later on: Smallville is tonight. Recaplet ahoy!

Watching: Last night, I saw episodes of Newlyweds, 24, Kid Notorious (I can't decide if I like it or not), South Park, Joe Millionaire, Arrested Development (funny, funny show), Home Movies, Brak Show and Aqua Teen Hunger Force. It was my TV catch-up night.

Reading: I'm embarrassed to say the two books I was reading have been unceremoniously pushed aside. I'm not reading shit right now.

Thinking about: The cats. Oscar does have bacteria in his urine, which might explain all the futon peeing. I put a clear shower curtain on the futon until the vets get all his test results back.

Craving: Fire Bowl Cafe sesame chicken.

Woried about: Nothing really, right at the moment. The Finding Nemo thing was stressing me out, but it's done.

Weight: Fuck. Need to go to the gym. This is getting out of hand a little.

Height: Unchanged.

Sex: Yes, please!

Temperature: Comfy.

Hatin' on: Face time.

Lovin' on: My paycheck.

Planning: Possible Houston trip this weekend.

I clicked on a banner ad (I know, I suck) for Trivial Pursuit online. I've never owned the game, but I love playing it and I have friends who are hard-core about it. (The only thing more hard-core than a hard-core Trivial Pursuit player is a hard-core Cranium player.)

Uproar has the game in single-player and multiplayer formats and after playing it for about 30 seconds, I already knew the single-player version sucked. It's like You Don't Know Jack, but without the fun. I'm betting, though, that mutliplayer is more entertaining, though I don't see spending $30 for the priviledge of playing (although it's $30 for a whole year, not a month). Has anybody out there played it or gotten a group of friends together online for it? That's the only way I can conceive of it being a lot of fun. But how sad would it be to play this with friends online instead of just inviting people over and laying out cheese and cracker snacks and cheap box wine? The only conceivable advantage I see to playing it online is, of course, the Naked Factor.

For those of you local film folk who were extras or worked crew: The Alamo got pushed back from a Christmas day release to April. I always thought it was a weird idea to release a bloody "epic" on Christmas day, but hey, that's just me. No word yet on whether the move means reshoots in Central Texas. The film's also gotten some early not-very-positive reviews on Ain't It Cool News (do a search for "Alamo").

It turns out the thing I like least about work actually has a name: "Face time." Fuck face time. You can read about my generation of workers here. The part that made me happy was when they called the 28-year-old woman "another young worker."

New recap of Smallville is up. It's still gay.

I actually got to try to be funny on my XL Blog entry today and was able to put my considerable drawing skills to work. Banks are scary.

To the second (large stall) men's toilet at 305 S. Congress, Austin, TX, Second Floor, behind the elevators, Editorial Dept: You're fired.

Get your shit and get out. You will not receive unemployment benefits, you will not be referred by H.R. to another comparable position.

You failed to fulfill the basic tenets of your job description: When somebody pulls your handle, you're supposed to flush. That means taking all contents in your bowl and removing them from sight. You don't hide the contents in an underwater sploosh and then bring them right back (multiple times, according to the last complaint) like some Shit Magic Trick. We have no use for you. Your services are no longer needed. Please vacate the premises, and please box up whatever vacated material you've got and take it.

Also, to the guy I just got off the phone with from my bank:

I don't need credit card protection. Gas is expensive and I appreciate the offer for the $25 gas card, but I don't want to pay every month to not have to make a credit card payment if I get laid off. I like making credit card payments. It makes me hope that one day I'll have them all paid off. You must understand, kind barely literate gentleman who just called me, that I was having a good day today. I'd just fired a toilet, I had a nice lunch, I posted some photos online. Things were going good. Shit was getting done (when it wasn't disappearing and reappearing, see above). But then you call me and start talking about my dismemberment and my "untimely death." Whose day are you trying to ruin?

Then I put you on hold to take another call, but you stayed on the line. When I came back, you asked, "Where was I?" Shit, I don't know. I wasn't listening either. I tell you I'm not interested and you say, "Sir, do you have protection?" When I answer, "You mean like condoms?" you don't find any humor there and say in all seriousness, "No, sir, I mean credit card protection."

I tell you I don't need it. You ask what I'll do if I get laid off. You ask what my family will do if I die. You ask what I'll do with no arms. You really think I need this? It's 2 p.m. on a Monday afternoon. I can barely keep it together as it is. Please go away. Please leave me alone. Please take your shadow of doom and point it toward someone happier than me, someone that can just tell you to fuck off because their life is perfect. They're indepedently wealthy, they've already lost all limbs and are getting along great with prosthetics, and they made a deal with the devil to have a painting of them age while they stay forever young and cheat death.

If you need it, I can give you that number.

Finally, on location at The County Line BBQ:


I have no idea what Emily is eating, but ew. I think it's a shrimp.


Monty is a carnivore. He was growling here.


Ryan in the best rib photo ever. It was an homage to this site's Happies.


At Agonippe, BBQ comes second only to home-baked chocolate creations. (Seriously. If she ever bakes you a sugary treat, you will die from taste bud explosions.


There are entirely too many photos of me with my mouth open on the Web. Notice the dog to my right.


The dog, who needs his own Web site, was the source of entirely too many laughs.


See?


Look at that dessert! It's bigger than the dog!

And that's it. Good times.