Hey. I wrote about some shit this week:

I know it's that one week a year when we semi-arbitrarily eat very small Three Musketeers bars and get all spastic about mummies, so one might expect me to devote this column to my top five ways for a hill mutant to rip out a sorority girl's eyeball (okay, fine: 5. grapefruit spoon, 4. mutant telepathy, 3. bug vacuum, 2. voodoo chicken bone, 1. prehensile toe). However! I have gone on record many times explaining that STRANGELY ENOUGH, I DO NOT ENJOY THE FEELING OF WARM TERROR-PEE FILLING MY PANTS, BUT THANK YOU OH SO MUCH FOR OFFERING. No, I shall not partake of the frights this week.

Read the whole thing—which includes short reviews of Amelia, Couples Retreat, and Cirque Du Freak: The Vampire's Assistant (and not one single fart joke [I don't think!]!)—HERE.