Prepare yourself: I'm about to reveal to you an unadulterated look into the constantly-on-the-go lifestyle of a newly emigrated New Yorker. The time: Friday night. The scene: my kitchen. As I'm eating a bowl of cereal, I decide to look at the ingredients labels on the various foods I have in my cabinet. After looking at the cereals themselves, I move on to the popcorn. The nutrition facts for the popcorn are split down two columns: one for servings of popped popcorn and the other for servings of unpopped popcorn. Hold up. Unless I'm reading this incorrectly, this means there are enough people in the world who open up a bag of popcorn and start diving right into the kernels that it warrants a specific column of nutritional information? Are these people so pressed for time that they can't spare two-and-a-half minutes to, you know, cook the popcorn? Or do they simply have disdain for their teeth and, in an effort to expedite the process of obtaining dentures, desire to shatter their teeth by eating raw kernels? But, really, the biggest question of them all is: who the fuck thinks all this on a Friday night?

Okay, so the answer is because I've been on the verge of getting sick this past week and I'm still in a state of recovery. Monday night and Tuesday hit me the hardest, but there's been a gradual improvement of health.

The Mighty Boosh. Maybe you've heard of it, maybe you haven't. Ben brought this show to my attention. And, as he described it to me, "it's very British." It's kind of a mix of Aqua Teen and Tim and Eric and Monty Python. Absurd, awkward, weird. But also very funny. I've only seen a handful of episodes, but it's been pleasant enough for me to feel the need to share it with our abundance of fans (two-to-five people).

I'll agree with Adam about the Abbey Road medley thing. Pretty fantastic. Those 17 minutes go by so quickly. "Golden Slumbers / Carry That Weight / The End" is such an amazing conclusion, too. Now THAT'S how you end your career. Damn.