What an effin' week. In the last week one of our fish died, Brooke's childhood cat died and our only remaining gerbil died. In a WEEK. Oh, and the Pope, but the Pope wasn't one of our pets. Anyway, now I'm unreasonably worried about Calli and, oh, everything else. I'm a rational person, but I'm also a very superstitious person. So who or what did I piss off recently?

Also, my inker AND colorist jumped ship this week. Yeah, it's been one of those. On the plus side, Dan Hoak came to stay for a night. Much reminiscing and musing on adulthood were to be had.

Also, it's been a while since I've said this here, but Brooke's amazing. My new advice to everyone is to get married. If you don't like it, tough shit. Get married, jack.

Does anyone else think the new Weezer single "Beverly Hills" sucks eight kinds of ass? If we invented a time machine, after we prevented history's great tragedies, we should go back to the 90s and make sure Weezer sell lots of copies of Pinkerton so Rivers Cuomo wouldn't be afraid to write songs that are worth a crap. Who's with me?