I'm not down with censoring videogames. I think a good chunk of the audience for them is people like me and PJ, folks who grew up with games and are now adults, capable of deciding what games they want to play.

But sometimes the special interest groups of the videogame companies are so fixated on winning approval from the government and groups that might otherwise make their lives difficult, that they issue news like this. I'm sorry, but I just don't buy it. I think parents get their kids what's on their list, as long as it doesn't contain the words, "Rape," "Fuck" or "Deth-Killer" in the title and I bet fully 15 percent of them know what that little letter on the bottom lefthand side of the DVD case means. But if you ask parents? Of course they'll say they look at them. That's like going to a PTA meeting and asking, "How many of you beat your kids?" and counting the number of hands raised.

Nice try, though, ESRB. Nice try.

Also? The Sin City trailer is da bomb. Holy shit, that looks good.

L'il Floaty Omie Head talks TV and reveals the stuff that fills his TiVo like pellets in a bird's gullet. Tasty pellets.

Also, a spanking new holiday Space Monkeys! boasting a new take on the Santa myth. A crusty red one.

I'm getting ready to go to a staff work party (a very small one) in which we were asked to bring our significant others. Mine works an hour and a half away and doesn't get off until at least 9 p.m., so her attendance was impossible. So I'll be the only one there without a mate, hanging out by the cheese dip or maybe munching on a tiny, tiny piece of broccoli for five minutes until someone asks me, "Where your wife at?" She suggested I take a photo of her and carry it around, much like the puppet stand-ins at our wedding (which I know I posted a photo of around here somewhere, but can't find right now), and say, "I know my wife isn't here, but here's what she looks like. Cute, huh?"

So we'll see how that goes. Please, meet my wife. She looks even better in person.

Photo number one. Last night I got to go home from work for the first time and see my wife. It was pretty cool.

New Space Monkeys! comic today, in keeping with the holiday theme of "Holidays." This one involves turkey preparation.

I return! From moving! And a three-day not-really vacation! With Internet access restored! Huzzah! Hey! What's up, my peeps!? What is... what's uh... what's up?

Where is everybody?

Christmas? Oh SHIT! That's this week!?

I thought they were pushing it back this year! Like a week, at least. It's still coming? This Saturday?

Well, damn. I know what you're getting this year. A belated gift/card, that's what. Good God. SATURDAY?

The question I'm getting asked as I return to work and the land of e-mail and Web honey, is "How's the new house?"

I'm not gonna lie. My expectations were way high and after moving in and dealing with the reality of the situation, I've decided... that it's FUCKING AWESOME. Full of sunlight and pretty surfaces and fresh paint and wood floor and a wife who couldn't be more thrilled (but who is, to her deep credit, not so blinded by bling that she's afraid to point out minor flaws and mistakes to our builder and God help them if they don't fix that shit or she'll be pissed). Check it: I get to see my wife. Every night. No more part-time lovin'. We get to be a real married couple with real married couple hours. I can't believe it took us this long to make that happen.

We had some minor moving-in fiascos. Have you ever tried to buy the exact-size of a screw in New Braunfels at 10 p.m. on a Saturday night for a dryer? It's impossible. Also? I almost burned our pretty new house down playing with a 220-volt wall outlet. My dad calls me "Sparky" now.

There was also the bit where I lost my checkbook and we drove from New Braunfels to Austin looking for it. And the way that my cat, Cosa, jumped on the hood of Rebecca's car when we came to pick up some items from the "Old" house (we haven't taken the cats over yet; they're kicking it with food and drink until we can register them in New Braunfels) and screamed "TAKE ME WITH YOU!"

There's adventures in Swiffering, the story about the tiny, tiny tractor we purchased (not a real tractor, but a sprinkler in the shape of a tiny tractor, sans rider. There's the thing about how awesome our movers were, these two skinny white kids who seemed to have abundant energy (virginal energy is my suspicion) that caused them to quite actually BOUNCE as they were moving our items with the utmost care. Have you ever seen two teenagers clear out an entire house in two hours. It is scary, fueled by some sort of Columbine-era teen mojo that has something to do with loud music, I'm sure of it.

There's lots of stories and more and now that I have my shiny Internet access back, I can post them, as well as some photos. So... I'm back. Hope some of you are out there this week.