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Friday, April 08, 2005
If you're in Austin (or within driving), you should definitely go check out homeboy Mical Trejo's one-man show (he produces and stars) "Radio:30" at Hyde Park Theatre.
Mical got the rights to do the show, written by Chris Earle, at the New York Fringe Festival. It's directed by Ken Webster. Runs through April 27th.
Thursday, April 07, 2005
Over the Moon
The Moon Weasel may be gone, but his spirit lives on in this new sort-of epilogue on Space Monkeys! Just goes to show there can be only one.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
That baby's a pontiff!
I don't know what I think of this photo, but I do know it's too funny not to share:
AP Photo by Eduardo Verdugo
Still li'l. Still floaty.
One more XL Blog post. We're shifting to a more frequent/less longish updating style that hasn't quite gone into effect yet. But I couldn't resist.
The other networks said, "I'm gonna go with... no."
UPN? Seriously? The UPN "Network?"
You know what this means, right people?
The Britney Era is officially over.
Monday, April 04, 2005
Li'l Floaty Omie Head gives Robert Rodriguez some advice on the next Sin City. One word: Technicolor!
They come to stuff the weasel
The tale of the Moon Weasel among the planet of hot dogs (you've seen this, right?) concludes today with Part IV, the last chapter of "Hot Dog Day Afternoon" on Space Monkeys!
We return to regular updating on Wednesday after a very sporadic period of producing an epic George Lucasian saga. Who knows -- maybe we'll knock out a series of prequels detailing how the Moon Weasel became an evil consumer of franks. It can't be any worse than The Phantom Menace. And it would probably be better than that ghost porn version, The Phantom Menage.
T-minus 12 hours
Today is the last day of my 20s.
I'm going to try very hard to enjoy it, but it'll be hard because the enjoyment window will be from about 10:45 p.m. to midnight. The window is even smaller tomorrow on the actual birth'd day.
Last night, I was totally out of sorts, scrambling to finish all the things I couldn't finish the rest of the weekend because of some Pope work that kept me at the dayjob office for much of it, and at about 11:30 p.m. last night, I could almost literally feel water over my head, and feel my throat closing up thinking, "I'm not going to make it. This stuff isn't going to get done. I can't do all this. I'm drowning."
And then Rebecca, who carries imaginary pins around to blow up my anxiety balloons, said something sweet and made me smile and told me to get some rest.
It's very, very good to have a sane person in the house.
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