There Goes My Hero...

...watch her as she goes.

BTW, I can't understand why Lindsay with all her millions, didn't have a certain Prodigy song remixed in retaliation to the remarks that a friend of the squirrel's made. It wouldn't be that hard to take the 'kräch sound out of "cause," "ire" and no...it would be hard to get the "ch," but I bet she could have an engineer work it out.

Then everytime Paris shows up at anywhere in public, Lindsay could have a cat with a boombox follow her and play...

If I was in World War Two, they'd call me crotchfire
If I was in World War Two, they'd call me crotchfire
If I was in World War Two, they'd call me crotchfire
If I was in World War Two they'd call me crotch...fire!

Fire
Fire
Fire

Cause you know that I can

Why Is It Gradeschool All Over Again?...

...oh yeah, because I've been tagged.



1. All right, here are the rules.2. We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.3. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.4. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.5. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

Here are eight more things you don't know about me:

1) I dream about dead people. No, Haley Joe, "I don't see them." They visit me. I can liken the experience to a cameo in a film or sitcom. They appear, they talk to me directly or partake in an incidental conversation. Their appearances are brief and they don't haunt or give me ominous warnings.

2) I believe in ghosts, but I don't want to talk about it. Just as people get all wound up about religion and to what degree their faith is stronger than someone else's, I get the same way about ghosts.

3) Every time I'm almost out, Katie and Dale pull me back in. It's not that blogging is a chore so much as I have other things to do. Just as I send Katie an email about me going on hiatus, someone will tag her with a meme.

When Katie is too busy to tag me? That's when Dale takes over, though I'm not uncertain that she doesn't tip him off.

4) I don't do funerals. I am talking about casual acquaintances, whom I prefer to morn in private. This is a huge sticking point with my coworkers, as we have far too many people at my job, passing way before the prime of their lives. Of course, a lot of the people who take exception to me not attending, are the very same ones that don't want to be around me during working hours. Hmm, go figure.

5) Since we've been married, I've never spent more than seventy-two hours away from the Missus.

6) Since he's been born, I've never spent more than sixty hours away from Procrastinator Junior.

7) These types of memes are excruciating for me, as I have already revealed my quirks and oddities previously, on the blog.

8) This is not a happy meme, as my happy side went ahead on blogging hiatus and so much as sent me a postcard.

I have to tag eight, but the eight don't have to play along if they don't want.

So Legs, Beth, Chelene, Deadspot ('cause I owe him one), Amy, Angel, Chris, and last, but not least, Todd. I had Dale in here, but I didn't notice that Katie beat me to the tag. May LeeWee stalk you for the next five years, Schwartz ; P

P.S. The responses and I retagged Dale, because Katie tagged him for a different meme:

Legs, who answered two memes at once! Amy, who managed to amuse me very much, though she's lacking Bogey pics.

Somebody from the "fair and balanced coalition" gave Chris a concussion (my bet is on my Republican sister-in-law. Because of her political beliefs and the female side of the in-law's mastery of frying pans). Don't get it twisted when you read his meme, it is done with a Colbert-worthy flair.

Speaking of politicos, Dead Spot will be our new dictator for life. Chelene shatters preconceptions of musical heroes.

This a PNN Update

The zit really hurts my nose and I had hardly any chocolate this week.

On the other front, Paris can't hurt me if I don't turn on the news.

"This is PNN!"

Thank you James Earl. Melodious, isn't he?

This PNN (Procrastinator News Network)

I got a zit this morning.

In equally interesting news, apparently Paris Hilton got out of jail.

Beth Answered The Meme...

...and now I have material, so I don't have to post for the next two days. Thank you Ms. Coffey ; )

P.S. Warning to all of you R.E.M. fans, don't read this unless you want to gnash your teeth and pull your hair out.

Q: Are We Not Men?

A: We are Vince Vaughn...

...I'm not saying "separated at birth," I'm just saying that there's a resemblance.

One Person's Fashion Accessory...

One person's fashion accessory, is an anathema to others.

Not to take away from the victims and their relatives, but Cameron, baby? Dig it. Next time you go globe trotting, take this bag instead. The only people you will anger or offend are procrastinators and crack-heads.
Plus, it has another slogan on the flipside...

Two for the price of one? You can't beat that.

From The JDC, To Katie, To Meself And Finally To Beth

Sent from the JDC to Katie, a message to Beth.

"Ms. Coffey, we know where you live!"

Okay, for those who didn't read the previous post pertaining to this. I don't mean "we," as in me and my multiple personalities, I mean the squirrels.

Tool Watch And I Butcher A Neil Young Song

You see, me the rare San Franciscan native, I actually find this funny. It's a video posted to The N-Judah Chronicles of some tool that got his Prius stuck in the East Portal tunnel, over on the Cole Valley side. I scoff at this tool just like I scoffed at the woman last night, who had her BMW going the wrong way up (at the one way section of) Post Street.

We know which part of the donkey that you favor and how often...

Then for Haahnster and Beth, my rendtion of "Hello, Laura Albert On The Stand." Be thankful I didn't post an audio file of me, singing.

P.S. Now I don't feel so "smart" after all, the "East Portal Tunnel" is actually the "Sunset Tunnel."

THIS Is A Knife

According to the S.F. Chronicle, somebody has been watching "Crocodile Dundee" and "Kill Bill," in the Crocker Amazon...

Crouching tiger -- stolen iPod: How's this for a scene right out of a Hong Kong action flick?

Guy is walking down the 900 block of Naples Street in San Francisco when two thugs appear, kick and punch him, get him in a choke hold, steal his iPod and leave him bleeding on the street.

Four locals see the attack and give chase.

One of the thugs stops and pulls out a knife.

One of the locals runs into his house and comes back waving a 3 1/2-foot-long sword.
Knife drops. Cops arrive. Game over.

WHAT Was In The Water, Last September?

I'm sure everybody knows, but just in case? Tanya had a boy and Haahnster, I mean, Mrs. Haahnster, had a boy as well. I'm glad that whatever was in the water in the Midwest and Canada, didn't make it to California. I love babies, but I love getting sleep, too.

In My Myopic Writing Retreat...

...I forgot one of the most important days. Happy Blogaversary, "Legs!"

June Blogpourri

First, from the Word Detective as I was looking up the origins of "nincompoop" for Procrastinator Junior and I found this tidbit.

Dear Word Detective: A friend of mine recently said that she felt there was some kind of jinx on her dating life, and this made me wonder about the word "jinx." The more I look at the word, the weirder it seems. Do you agree? Where does it come from? -- Emily Forsyth, King of Prussia, PA.

Yes, "jinx" is one very weird word. Part of what strikes us as weird about the word "jinx" may be the fact that words ending in "nx" are fairly uncommon in English, "larynx," "sphinx" and "phalanx" being the only ones most people ever encounter.

"Jinx" is, as you might suspect, an unusual word in other respects as well. It started out as a noun, meaning a charm or hex that brings bad luck or exercises evil influence, though your friend used it as a verb meaning to be cursed or to have bad luck either in general or in a specific endeavor (such as securing a palatable boyfriend). One curious thing about "jinx" is that, although belief in such curses and evil influences is thousands of years old, the word "jinx" itself is relatively new, first appearing in 1911.

Having posed that little puzzle, I will now solve it by explaining that "jinx" is actually an American misspelling of the much older (and even weirder) European word "jynx," which dates back to a suitably ancient 1649. And "jynx" holds the key to our mystery, because a "jynx" is also a type of Old World bird, a woodpecker also known as a "wryneck," named for its habit of twisting its neck when it is disturbed.

So now all we have to do is somehow connect your friend's substandard social life to an obscure European bird. And the answer is ... sorcery. It turns out that while jynxes make lousy dates (all the wrong sort of necking), jynx feathers were an essential ingredient in the potions and charms concocted by witches in the 16th century, so essential that the potions themselves eventually came to be known as "jynxes."

And since jinxes, strictly speaking, can be good as well as bad, all your friend needs now is a bird, a witch, and Mr. Right is just a cackle away.

Speaking of "jynxes," my ability to speak Italian is just about gone. I don't venture into North Beach (the Italian district in S.F.) and the Italians don't come over here, to my side of town. For one reason or another, I have to speak Spanish about six or seven times a week and unfortunately, I can't think in both languages.

So one language suffers at the expense of the other and the end result was I couldn't even tell this Italian couple how to get to Union Square. Cazzo, che vergonia!


Speaking of suffering at the expense of another, I've started and killed three short stories between Friday and Saturday mornings. All I have to show for this weekend that I've set aside for writing, are patches of dialogue that are sparse and dry like a Death Valley lawn.

On the good side, Forza Motorsports 2 is a lot of fun...







No, I said Motorsports, get yer mind outta da gutter!

Sigh. No, This Time I Mean It...

[Ante Scriptum...

Folks have been giving me credit for this meme (yes, I realize, not on purpose) and that would be nice, except that Dead Spot is the proper author.]

I said in the post below, that I'm done with posting for the next three days. Well, I should've just gone to bed and instead? I got tagged. Dead Spot caught me unawares and said...

"For this meme, I'm going to ask you to answer three (hopefully not dumb) questions: What is the dumbest question you ever been asked? Why was it it dumb? And, even though it won't help, because answering a dumb question never does, what's the answer? (Or, as I like to think of them: The Big Dumb Question, The Big Dumb Reason, and The Big Dumb Answer.)"

I'm going with one that's easy than the paragraph that was here a second ago, because I'm ready to do my impression of Rip Van Winkle.

If you read this, you would remember this passage in which I said...

Of the fifty states in America, the only one where I wouldn't stick out is Hawaii.

It's 1989 and I'm stuck in a check stand, in a Safeway (that's a supermarket chain), in a nasty little suburb east of San Francisco...hell, I'll just crib it off myself here...

I am a person of color, many colors actually and I'm not saying which, at this time. If you saw me, you wouldn't get half of my racial makeup correct and if someone comes off at me, a little narrow-minded, I will make it a point not to tell them just what those races are. The worst example of this was back in '89 when I was a checker at Safeway and a woman asked me, "what are you?"

Me: I'm a human being.
Odd Woman: I know that, what are you?
Me: I'm an American. (to the Head Checker) I'm going on break.
Odd Woman: No, where were you born?
Me: San Francisco.
Odd Woman: No, where were your parents born?
Me: In America.

The Odd Woman followed me back to just short of the break room and I didn't say another word to her. It seems insensitive now, but you have to realize that she wasn't gonna be happy until she put me into a category. I don't fall into a category, not for the census and not for her with that tone.

So let's recap...

"The Big Dumb Question" is "what are you?"

"The Big Dumb Reason" is I don't want to be defined by a category, when people find it necessary to put me in a category, in order to accept me.

"The Big Dumb Answer" is....



...it's not up there, is it?


Do you really want to know?


I'm mean, I don't know if you can handle this.


Naw, I don't think you can.


Let me say this then: Chow mein, pineapple, ribs, matzo balls, and sauerkraut.


That's right, I'm indigestion.

Clarifications will not be forthcoming, though you don't have to be D'onofrio on "L&O Criminal Intent," to figure this out.

Who am I tagging? Well, the best online friend in the world always goes first...Katie and Dead Spot already got Becka, so I guess this "tagged for life" thing really isn't working out for us, "Legs." The JDC so he can have a welcome diversion to the epic tome that he's putting together and last but not least, that hot cup of Coffey, that is Beth.

P.S. Here is the JDC's response.
P.P.S. Here is Katie's response.

Nahhh....

...I got nuthin'. Rust never sleeps, Neil Young, but this weekend? This blog will.

I will leave you with Monkey Fluids. It's not what you think, just go and see.

See you Monday or on your blog.

The Author Must Be Educated, Or At Least Informed

So, I'm learning a bunch of stuff this morning and I guess if you want to write about pulp, you have to research it until it is coming out of your ears. Or least I hope that is "pulp" that is coming out of my ears and not some other gray matter (iffff, I only had a brain).

For instance, what appliances were used in the 1930's and how much homes cost, as well as those in the following decade. Conversely, if you don't type in the right search words, you get entirely too much information about how much houses made back in the 1930's, cost now in Santa Monica.

I'm learning about the Southern Californian thoroughbred race tracks and it seemed to be the premiere investment back then, for movie stars and studio heads. See, even back in the day, they knew something like Planet Hollywood would never catch on.

I'm also learning about the price of food back then, a subject that fascinated me as a child and intrigues Procrastinator Junior, as well. If you think about it, it is one the most tangible ways to measure an era in terms of what it cost to survive back then. Not to mention when you hear about steaks going for a few dollars back then, when you can't find a non-fast food joint that will sell you hamburgers at that price, now, blows kid's minds.

I'm learning far more than I want to about tatting, but it will provide a crucial detail from a visual and kinetic standpoint. Sometimes the "too much information" moniker doesn't always apply to things that are gory or scatological in nature.

What's That In The Rearview Mirror?

Wow, it sure is tiny, what could it be? Oh, yeah, grade school! Procrastinator Junior graduated today!

It was a nice low key affair that seemed like it was over, just after it began. BTW, what does it mean when they "begin the beguine?" It sounds like a bloated penguin. Why don't they "begin the baguette," instead? Somebody might be hungry.

Oh, sorry, Paul Mercurio; "a beguine is a spirited ballroom dance."

Now it's on to junior high hi-jinks for him...and hopefully less volunteering and parental social interactions with yours introverted truly.

It's Time For Writing Quotes Again

"Sometimes the rewriting is kind of like twitching -- it's a twitching that keeps you active while you're trying to figure out what to [write] next. You're rewriting the scene that you're rewriting, but that's causing your writing muscles to actually start writing the scene you're going to do next." – Mr. Brooks' Bruce A. Evans

Um...

He sells
Rhetorical spells
By the seashore?

"The two most engaging powers of an author are to make new things familiar and familiar things new." – Samuel Johnson

Oooh, I think I like that one. This week, I like this one the best...

"My inner voice hits me because it loves me."

-John Donald Carlucci

There Can Be Only One!...Well...

Say it with me in a slightly stilted (as opposed to "tilted?") French accent, "therre...can be...only one!"

So the Food Network has a show where they try to find the next "Food Network Star" and it's format is much like that of the premiere food reality TV show, "Top Chef." To be fair, I looked it up on the IMDB and "The Next Food Network Star" aired some seven months before the first episode of "Top Chef." Yet it isn't even close, one will have me watching all but one or two episodes during the season and the other will be lucky to have me watching more than five minutes.

With "Top Chef," you have trained artists going at it, the best of the best and sure, they're telegenic. With "The Next Food Network Star," it's more about their personalities and how telegenic they are, versus their actual cooking abilities. What's okay about the latter show is that they trot out a different Food Network personality for each episode and the majority of them can cook.

The very worst contestants in "Top Chef" would crush the majority of "T.N.F.N.S," it's not even close. Procrastinator Junior likes to watch this particular show and I watched it in depth for the first time, tonight. The cats and kittens on "T.N.F.N.S" make the same kinds of mistakes that you or I would make in that situation and they even "borrowed" a "Top Chef" bit, where they catered a wedding.

The wedding bit was from Season One of "Top Chef," though the mistakes that the "T.N.F.N.S." competitors made, were almost as many as two entire seasons of "Top Chef," magnified. This Giada/Jewel Kitchner clone didn't buy enough food or run her team with any efficiency at all, tp the point that the whole reception could've gone down the tubes. Yet they bounced a Brazilian woman and one is left to believe that is was because of her Portuguese accent, rather than her actual cooking abilities.

Why even bother to call it a "cooking competition?" I'm sorry, if whoever it is looks like Ernest Borgnine (be it woman or man), but can entertain and cook better than James Beard and Julia Child put together, that's who I'll watch. If that person is telegenic and can cook? So much the better.

Speaking of looks, someone went and cloned The Communicatrix!

This is "T.N.F.N.S" contestant, Amy Finley...

...And this is Colleen Wrainwright a.k.a. The Communicatrix. Colleen took down all the pictures where she had a similar hairstyle (which style she probably had way before her "clone" Amy did) and it's a good thing because your minds really would've been blown then. Think about it though, if Amy wins, everyone is going to walk up to Colleen and say "aren't you the new Food Network Star?"

No kids, the The Communicatrix came way before the next Food Network Star.

Oh yeah, there can be only ONE!

"Top Chef," this Wednesday! Only on Bravo!...

...Don't tell me what happens, I'll blog about it when they repeat during the day or the weekend.

Yet Another Meme

From Beth, via Bubs, Johnny Yen and Lulu.

Here’s what you do:
• Grab the nearest book.
• Open to page 161.
• Find the fifth full sentence.
• Post the sentence.

This will be both interesting and unknown for all of us, as I haven't gotten to this book yet...

From Roger Ebert's "Your Movie Sucks"...

"John Q's farewell to his son, is one."















Eh, then again, maybe not. At any rate, thanks Beth, Bubs, John, and Lulu. Anyone who wants to participate, feel free to do so.

P.S. Angel's came out better, as did Eric's and Bella's.

Learning From Memes

As I've said before, there was a letter meme and I tried to foist the letter "Z" upon Amy. Angel read the meme and I challenged her to the letter "Q," which is just as difficult and she passed with flying colors (which would be "colours" down South Africa way). Not only that, she taught me something new, as in a "Quagga."

It's hide in the 1793 illustration on the Wiki page, has the same shades as the depictions I've seen of the extinct horses that existed in the Americas, thousands of years ago. They'd like to go "Jurassic Park," and recreate them from DNA, but the technology isn't quite ready. So they're engaging in selective breeding in an effort to create a close approximation.

Whatever they do, I don't think that they'll be able to recreate the quagga's unique bray.

I wonder if the quagga is the South African equivalent of the snipe? As in "let's go quagga hunting," when kids want to pull a prank on someone.

As I Move Forward...

...well, sideways, really. Other than:

Tweaking a screenplay for submission for a contest last year...

...then taking it out this Spring to chastise it for not being the one that was going to land me the director's job and three picture deal, I've pretty much thrown the towel in on screenwriting.

I have a screenplay or two, still in me and they will be done before the decade is over. The number one priority is to test my limits as a writer in terms of different genres and to not bore myself or duplicate the same style twice. To wit, that has meant writing a short story about every eighty hours and I have succeeded so far in doing just that.

Are they all top shelf quality? I'd be a bad writer if I said they were.

One of them was even published online and another is still waiting on any response at all from an Ezine. Another will be published in the near future, hopefully. The point I'm trying to make before I go traveling to far down tangent road, is that I'm trying to build forward momentum in terms of actually having a career in writing.

So far, so decent and I haven't been bored.

Hmmm, that's convenient

Let's see, Becka is without computer and Paris Hilton was actually allowed out of jail? Quoth Michael Connelly's Harry Bosch, "there are no coincidences."

This Quiz Was Brought To You By Raspberry Latte

By the way, the book quiz was brought to you by Raspberry Latte.

Q: What's For Breakfast?

A: A can o' worms. The hottest Cup of Coffey ever, has asked me "speaking of links...why is mine near the bottom o' the roll? I should be above *********, at least."

I've said it before, but it is easy to miss. Looky he-rah...

With the exception of the first six links, I don't play favorites. For this blog, I still have the old-fashioned template where I manually type everything in. I bounce the scroll wheel up and down, in a one-armed bandit fashion and where I click, is where the link is slotted.

The shop goes first, because I always hope that more than two people a month will buy something. The Missus goes right after that, though she understands that the shop helps to pay for things.

The Bad Lieutenant's Wife goes next, because it helped me deal with the passing of my grandmother. Though, it is near dead and I am mulling over just if I should rescitate it just before it goes to the Big Blog In The Sky. When it is going at full steam, it takes a lot of time and energy to edit, as well as to make sure that there are no duplicate posts.

Katie goes after that, because we like, email each other, like at least twice, a day, ya know? We're online BFF's, ja-yeah! The JDC knows me by email, cracks me up and drops by the blog, every single day. We correspond on the rare occasion and he sent two of the best spec TV sitcom screenplays to read.

Becka cracks me up, lets only me call her that and she drops by, every single, day (see a pattern here?). After that? I don't like to play favorites.

Now, Beth? We email each other and are big fans of each other, but how can I play favorites with so many links on the blogroll?

So, anybody else? I'm sorry, this portion of the blogroll is reserved.

What's Good For The Goose...

Well, Dicky-boy would tell the gander to get f**ked, but apparently the United States Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit in New York, says different. Thank you Bubs, for making my day special!

But, Where's Moracco Mole?

I say squirrels are cute, but I'll get to that in a moment. Let me quote first, R.E.M.'s Number One Superfan and Georgian literary tornado, Beth Coffey...

Nope; squirrels are rats with thicker coats. NOT cute.

First, Miss Coffey, they are cute and you'd better agree, or this will happen. Not to mention, this.

So when I said...

Can't stop typing or squirrels will devour me (stop)
Please send peanuts in an attempt to distract them (stop)

I wasn't kidding. You'd better recognize the cuteness of squirrels, yo. They're everywhere and they're cagier than Nicholas Coppola, when you talk to him about his career acting choices.

Look, Up Above That Car! It's A...

It was inevitable. There have been some close calls, at least two and a half times a week on the average. I like to take advantage of the dearth of traffic and pedestrians in some sections of the City. Plus, I like to work a little of that after work tension off.

They should really know better and they always wait until the very last millisecond to get out of the way. There are many things, one should never do in the street and hanging out there, is one of them. Fighting or mating? Not a good street-related activities, either. Despite that catchy Beatles song, yes, everyone will be watching you.

Yes it was inevitable and no, I'm not talking about bums. So here is the score: Procrastinator 1, Pigeons 0. I'm guessing the pigeon was a "he," because he was chasing another pigeon down. It was either fighting or mating gone wrong and the pigeon wasn't paying attention to the one and a half ton object coming at him, in excess of twenty-four miles an hour.

Of course he flew towards the car, because they are dumb like that. Sure they can remember places (to carry messages) and they can distinguish between the humans that feed them more than others do, but that's about it. They fly towards cars because they can't distinguish a car, from a human that they believe they can startle by flying at it. Other animals have a fair, to great sense of fleeing large oncoming objects.

He thought he'd intimidate the car and he exploded on the windshield like an insect on a desert highway. I saw a flash of red, though he didn't leave any blood on the windshield.

Yes, I feel bad. No, I didn't go back and check on him, because he's dead, Jim.

Surely, Bones, there...is something...that...you can do-

No, you're not listening while you're overemoting, he's quite dead, Jim. Of course, if the scratch that was left by either his beak or claws somehow turns into a crack? Then it will be Procrastinator and Pigeons, 1-all.

BTW, I don't want to hear any nonsense about how I should've braked. There wasn't enough time and even if I did, the car behind me would've plowed into me.

The Third Blog Has Been Linked

The third blog has a story posted on a flash fiction site! Also, I tagged virtually every post with its respective genre. Soon, I'll have to drop the moniker, "Procrastinator" altogether...







What? Stop laughing.

I'm A "Book Snob"

What Kind of Reader Are You? Your Result: Book Snob You like to think you're one of the literati, but actually you're just a snob who can read. You read mostly for the social credit you can get out of it.
Dedicated Reader
Literate Good Citizen
Obsessive-Compulsive Bookworm
Fad Reader
Non-Reader
What Kind of Reader Are You? Create Your Own Quiz

Mind you, this is the same site that also said I have a Midwestern accent. Da Bears!

I don't like to think that I'm "one of the literati," I like to believe that I'm literate. There's a big difference.

Check the list of my favorite authors in the lower right-hand column and you will see that I am no book snob. Am I a film snob? Possibly, a book snob, no.

Rick's Back...

A co-worker rattled off all of these silly movies (his words) that I should see. I'm guessing from the glazed-over look I must have had in my eyes, that he deduced that he wasn't reaching me. He said, "Procrastinator, you have to see some silly movies every once in awhile, it's good for you."

I tried to explain as politely as possible, that silly movies aren't my cup of tea. I'll watch Larry The Cableguy on Comedy Central, for as long as he can string together a series of good or decent jokes. But I'm not going to the theater or renting a film of his, when I'm fairly certain that it will blow chunks.

I can't tell my coworker, that this is what I find funny...Rick Crowley shining the proper light on parenthood and bunnies.

That's comedy, plus I didn't have to spend five dollars on a soda. Or stand in line at Blockbuster, wasting my life behind some schuck smelling of "Eau De Roadkill." As he argues with the clerks over the outstanding charges he owes for "Showgirls: The Special Edition" and that Blockbuster should sell hand lotion, too.

Check, Baby, Check, Baby, One-Two-Three...

Check, Baby, check, Baby, one-two-three
It's Tim Gallagher and the JDC, ready with the one-two-checka
The Astonishing Adventures Page is testing
and your eyes....

...what rhymes with "checka?" I don't know...I'm tired and I'm going to bed.

In the meantime, check it out. Tim has some excellent comic reviews up and one of the most interesting bios, ever. Plus, the official launch date is posted and updated.