TO THE BLOGGER MANAGEMENT TEAM: the new writing template looks sensational. I have nothing else beyond that to say.
One thing I'm excited about today is the return of Ren & Stimpy. The new episodes are part of a block of adult sophisicated animation programming that is premiering on TNN, another cable station that I'm not familiar with, but from what I hear, it's famous for having continous Star Trek: The Next Generation marathons. (I wonder why none of these cable stations, such as the Sci-Fi Channel have never considered running a 'Flash' marathon? You' know, the DC super hero who does everything with super speed? Was once a tv series that ran on CBS for a entire season. You can get a entire day's worth of programming. I'm serious, this issue needs to be addressed.) But I got a co-worker putting it on his timer tonight while he goes out for a press screening of T3.
other summer small screen offerings I looking forward to are all on cable- dammit. Teen Titans, new Justice League episodes, and a Showtime series titled Dead Like Me are all airing next month.
Anyway, enough rambling.
When I last left off in my fucking Hulk movie review. I was ruminating about sausage baguettes and when I posted last Monday, I was hung-over from the previous Sunday, but moreso tired from lack of sleep, due to Rebecca's pseudo-husband's all night bizarre activities. Which just goes to show: you can have plenty of shit- on- moments even when you think you're having a good time. I always get that same exact feeling when I'm down at San Diego every year. Even though I still find it fun to be there, but after close to twenty years, it's beginning to feel like a chore to do. But I hoping to achieve my goal of going twenty years in a row and I'm battering up for eighteen this time.
So- I had paid fourteen lousy dollars to get into the reinnovated Pacific Cinerama Dome (or, is it the Pacific Arclight Dome) and just a couple of days ago, on the Ska&e Jesus forum, some posted a scary rumor that the new restructured dome was now owned by Scientogists. But alas, all fears were laid to rest when the host of the board, Dan Evans took it upon himself to investigate by e-mail the management. Their response assured him that in no way was the property was even remotely owned by the Thetan tittie slurping twisted fairy tale theologians.
So onward, after I got my moderately priced concession goodies (which was quite a surprise- that those prices weren't jacked up like the movie ticket) , I had to wait for an usher to escort me to my seat which ironically was number # M18. Almost sounds like a explosive doesn't it? The seat was on the balcony, which really wasn't a balcony at all- not by MANN theatres standards (BTW: 28 Days Later opens at my burial ground this Friday: The Mann Village in Westwood- the best THX equipped theater in Southern Cal ) - if you have to climb a flight of stairs to get to your seat- that's a balcony, not three or four steps up on a raiser. Once I got to my seat- I realized that I would soon be in a world of hurt.
Since I had a single seat on a aisle- I had to sacrifice privacy and sit next to this group of people- who's end person just happened to be some enormous 400 pound red headed woman- who body odor smelled like a cross between some left over sour milk and a hippo meat patty-
I couldn't ask for a better date.
Find out the juicy details tomorrow-
For I'm outta fifteen minutes.