The Latino Comedy Project (myself included) will be doing a short set (about 45 minutes) at Wafflefest tomorrow night at the Hideout Theatre.

I've never been to one of these, but my understanding is that $10 gets you admission and ALL THE WAFFLES YOU CAN EAT. At Denny's, you pay about $6 and you get waffles of a limited amount and the only comedy there is unintentional.

So, I think it's a good deal. We should hit the stage about 9:45-10 p.m.. The show itself begins at 9, so get there early since there are only about 80 seats in the Hideout.

Part III of Bobbo's homeward bound journey is up at Space Monkeys! today, a day late, but not, I would hope, a dollar short because that's a doller more than we have invested in the project.

It features blurred nudity of a cartoon sloth. I hope we don't offend, but on the other hand, I kind of hope we do.

Li'l Floaty Omie Head is frightened by tales of faulty "CV Boots" and other mechanical gremlines befucking his beloved Hyundai Elantra. So he goes looking for a new car. A tale of woe featuring a morbid car dealer and the promise of a happy ending (to come next week in Episode 2: Attack of the Hybrid).

The regularly scheduled "Space Monkeys!" comic for today exists, but mostly in the imagination. It should be done late today or early tomorrow, but just days after announcing our big Monday-Wednesday push, we've already fallen on our swords, like a bad headline about Alexander. I offer up the lamest of explanations over yonder, disguising our frantic anguish with something like lightheartedness. Something like that.

You'd be right in punishing us by not voting for our comic in the BuzzComix poll, but why hurt the ones you love? It's a new month, so all the numbers have been reset and we are dangerously close to beating our way into the top 100 (which we did for like five minutes earlier today with all of four votes). Stand proud! Vote your ass off.

Funniest thing I found while going through my batch of old boxes over the weekend: A big novelty soap in the shape of a sperm with Cookie Monster eyes. I swear to God somebody gave me that as a gag gift once, but I'll be damned I can remember who, or why, or to what end the joke.

I did a review of the DVD of Elf recently for the paper.

I also wrote a game review of Halo 2 that ran way, way, way, way, way deep inside the Sunday Life & Arts section of the paper and that, somehow, was the one story out of the 25 in the section that day that didn't make it online. So... yeah. Don't know what's up with that.

It wasn't particularly in-depth or mind-blowing, this review, anyway. All you need to know is that it's a good game, one of the best on a console this season. That's saying quite a lot since it's been like Crazy Console Best-Of Party Time for the last two months or so with so many good games out that you feel like Scrooge McDuck, wallowing in a sea of your own filthy coinage.

Found, at last! Tom Ridge: biological father of the Bob's Big Boy mascot!

I know this comes as a shock, and no doubt played a part in today's resignation announcement. The last thing Bush wants in his administration is someone who once made outdoor love to a 50-foot-tall ceramic woman.

All I'm going to say is that this is the story the traditional media is AFRAID TO UNCOVER! Weak-ass journalistic BITCHES! That's right. I said it!

Thank God for bloggers. And God bless America.

In case you were out of town, braving the weather to travel and be with your loved ones on the day we do unspeakable things to flightless fowl, then you might have missed the new story arc over at Space Monkeys! -- we're delving into Bobbo's past with the first two of five comics featuring a homecoming that is nothing short of a slothful waste.

There are so many stories to tell right now and so little time to tell them as I feel, as you surely feel, the vise grip on the nuts of holiday time squeeze. The very short and agate version is: I bought a new car because my old one was about to flip me over and kill me; the new house is still going great and we're scheduled to move in around mid-December (I know; that's two freakin' weeks!); we spend the weekend unpacking old boxes in the garage that were either full of bugs, dust or cat pee and sorted materials into shiny new plastic bins. 15 of my boxes fit into three small bins when all was said and done. It was lots of high school and college materials that took me down to the "Paradise City" of nostalgia and I'll write more about what I found in those heretofore unsealed boxes soon. Jeremy and Katie spawned a lovely baby that I found out about at 4 a.m. Friday morning. It was the best text message I've ever gotten.

Saw Finding Neverland, which I loved and Something's Gotta Give, which I found surprisingly good on cable. Not sure I would have liked it as much in the theater, but at home, Diane Keaton was so wonderful I had to go back and revamp my Oscar wishes from last year. We also tried to watch Series 7, but it didn't really hold our attention. On a week with no Smallville, O.C., Lost, or Daily Show episodes, we suddenly found ourselves with more free time than we knew what to do with. We were like children set free in a field of poppies. Poppies that could stop time and tasted like watermelon lollipops. But with broadband access.