Uh oh.

If the Bush administration is interested in paying me $240,000 to talk about my favorite videogames or to recommend some quality TV shows, I'm available. I'll even do it news-show style. "The Omar G. Hour with Tucker Carlson, James Carville and Ron Jeremy. We yell about the hard issues. Then we talk about porn."

This week in the Blog(xL), Li'l Floaty Omie Head recounts his visit to the now-hallowed grounds of the Rose Bowl, where a team from Texas did travel to and did return, taking a trophy won in a match of footballing.

And here are the deleted scenes:


There were a lot of people going to the Rose Bowl.


A fucklot of people.


Some people had way more orange on than us. Check out that dude on the left. He's like, "Oh, shit, I knew I left something at home... my school spirit!"


Check me out with my lack of orange or blue. That's what I do. Go to public events and pose as an indifferent asshole.


The B-2 Stealth Bomber just sneaked right the fuck up on us. I was like, "What was THAT?!" And the bomber was like, "Me, bitch. See ya." (Thanks to Adam for the B-2, not B-1 fix.)

Why am I cursing so much? Oh yeah. Because it's the Rose Bowl! FUCK YEAH!


More planes. If you squint at it, it's a kissy face with lipstick. Why? I'm sorry, son. That's classified.


It's a pretty stadium. I thought we were in the Rockies. Rockies Fives.


The final kick. Folks went buck'wile.


How hardcore are these fans? So hardcore that Weldon's got orange hair and a damn orange guayabera! Daaaaaamn, Weldon!
Q: Could they be any more hardcore?
A: No. No, they could not.


Pandemonium. But who let the band on the field? Go rooty toot out in the parking lot, fools.


Category: Wives who stay sexy even at a damn Bowl Game. (Bowlpourri)
Answer: This picture.
Question: Who is my wife.


Yup yup. Victoriatastic.

Lots of new banners, animated IM buddy icons and link buttons including these:

... are posted over at the Space Monkeys! Hot Stuff page.

New comic this morning at Space Monkeys!, up all early (er, on time) and shit. I will say this -- I will never in my life pass up the opportunity to point my comedic compass toward the rich (though lifeless) vein of zombies.

And yes, we have seen this character before. Some undead things just won't die.

They choked.

At the half: 38-10

WHAT THE FUCK!?

Jesus! You're getting beat by a bunch of condoms!

Fuck fuck fuck, don't choke, don't choke, OU, don't fucking CHOKE!

The best way to have someone sneer at you and yell, "Oh, get OUT!" this week in Austin is to tell them you went to the Rose Bowl.

If you want them to really hate you, tell them you only spent $75 on tickets and that dudes on the street were practically giving them away.

The Space Monkeys! over at actiongravy.com have got 2005 all figured out — it's going to be like one crazy-ass TV adventure after another! But without the TV!

While you're there, don't forget to vote for us on Buzzcomix. It's the beginning of the month, which means that a bunch of online comic strip nerds will be very impressed if we're in the top 100. By which I mean, the online comic strip nerds named "Omar" and "Pablo."

Now that we're back from L.A., stocking up on sleep and our home life, I've been voraciously catching up on all that is Net that missed while gone, when I was feeling pretty good about myself for not even hooking up my laptop to check e-mail or check out some sites at any Internet cafés.

Then, today, while doing some of this aimless (but purposeful) Web combing, I come across something that was written about me months ago and that, while long-since blown over I'm sure, still stung quite a lot. I had no idea that this was out there and had I read it at the time, it could have created Drama.

I think the thing I'm most pleased with in my life as I run headlong toward the next stage of life, the 30s, is that I've gotten to a point where all the pointless drama of my 20s has been stripped away. Sometimes, when I'm looking for things to write about, I miss it a tiny bit, but not when I'm in my right mind.

So I'm left with reading about myself on a blog I didn't even know existed and getting an oogy feeling in my tummy and knowing that someone I know only through association cared enough to be petty because somehow I'd unconsciouly riled them up enough to write about me. And I read it at work, where I couldn't really react or even make an ugly grimace about it.

I just spent the week marvelling at how great the Internet is -- how it's brought love and friendship to some of my closest friends. Sometimes, though, I think the Web just makes people feel a lot worse about themselves allowing them to wallow in and feed whatever it is that fuels their deepest insecurities. For an (admittedly tiny) audience.

No great insight here. I guess the best thing about the Internet, like life, is its ability to surprise you almost on a daily basis.

For God's sake, won't somebody please think of the dolphins!?!?

You go and you sit and you laugh because these are two funny people (oh, and there's even a third funny person officiating).

Then you're crying.

Fucking twice. Because their words to each other are true and lovely and wonderful and sweet.

Then you clap and you drink and dance (so much that your neck is sore the next day. You tell your wife, when she asks how that happened, that you were getting your hard moves on the dance floor going) and you hear a pretty song that friends wrote and it's a blur for you, but you can't imagine what a blur it must be for them, but you remember your wedding day, and it's very similar -- warm and cozy and wonderful and both elastically eternal and then too, too short because they're here, the people you love, and you don't want them to leave.

You go to bed happy, and you're lucky enough to go to the Rose Bowl the next day even, and all your thoughts about how fucked up the world can be, how all the doubts that choke your daily life can paralyze your sense of well-being, go away for a while, for a whole weekend, and it's a small set of miracles, lined up neatly for you, like the best hope for the whole year.

It's only one day into the year and already it feels full to bursting.

Although it's entirely possible that Adam McKay's quotes were taken out of context -- all those quotes talking shit about the show that he no longer works for.

For 2005, let's try this -- let's make it uncool to bash SNL for a little while. I know, I do it all the time. But 30 years? Come on, folks. It's not like Belushi's coming back from the grave, all right? Although that gives me a great idea for a "John of the Dead" sketch.

In related news -- the college paper I wrote for is not as good as when I was there and the Whataburger in Midwest City serves burgers that are not as tasty as when I was frying them up myself.