My Xbox crapped out on me the other day, and I haven’t even had the little bastard a full three months yet. The all too common dread Red Ring of Death appears to be the culprit. So it goes back to Microsoft tomorrow where they will — hopefully — be able to fix it.

Sucks, though; I’ll be missing the Instant Queue while it’s gone. In lieu of having cable, it’s the next best thing.

AleFest was today, and it was excellent.

Was a perfect day for it, too: gorgeous weather; plentiful samples of beer from a hundred different breweries; luxurious, sensual soft pretzels; and more cute girls in tanktops than you could beat with a stick. (Or is that “shake a stick at”? Whatever.)

Now I am exhausted from the combination of heat and beer, so tonight my plans include nothing more ambitious than staying in, and maybe starting a new book, or watching something on the instant queue for twenty minutes before passing out.

The inspired Molly Lewis, demonstrating with much wit and ingenuity that even hipster dinosaurs can still be elitist assholes.

[More here, here, here, here, and here.]

Trawling through the archives of the brilliant Hark! A Vagrant, I discovered a link to this audio recording of H.G. Wells being interviewed by Orson Welles.

I’m not sure when it was originally recorded, but midway through Wells mentions that we Americans haven’t “got the war right under [our] chins,” so presumably it was made sometime between 1939 and 1941.

Makes for a fascinating glimpse back at the first meeting of two cultural giants from different generations — especially when they discuss the then recent WAR OF THE WORLDS radio broadcast scare, and mention Welles’s upcoming film, CITIZEN KANE.

Managed to get back onto the wagon that is the Project of a Novelish Nature today. I sat down in front of my laptop, fired up Dark Room, and a couple of hours later 2,000 words had magically vomited their way onto the screen.

I’ve slacked off the last couple of months and not really done much in the way of writing. Something about the summer months always seems to throw a wrench into my writing plans. Been that way for the last five or six years. I think it’s because I tend to be more active socially in the warmer weather. It’s like in the beginning of June someone flips the switch on my back from Hermit to Social Butterfly, and it manages to stay that way till the onset of fall.

So to reward myself for doing the electronic version of putting pen to paper today, I’m heading over to my friend Ryan’s in a bit to watch CASINO ROYALE on Blu-Ray.

I’ve not actually watched anything on Blu-Ray yet, but I hear ’tis a wondrous and marvelous sight to behold.

My ten-year high school reunion was held this past Saturday night at U.D. Arena. Thirty bucks got me a decent buffet and all the beer I could drink, so I had a good time.

Oh yeah — and there were also a number of people from my sordid past whom it was cool to see.

I went with Nate and Sarah, and we hung out with Adam and Danielle most of the evening. My goal was to gape at people from afar and occasionally slur, “Hey, how you doing,” to people who’d venture too close. I like to think I succeeded.

I forgot to bring my camera, but fortunately Sarah did. Unfortunately, the pictures it produced came out like they were filtered through a meth addict’s eyes. I think they look kind of neat.

Been kind of a busy week. It still amazes me that one can still be so busy when one doesn’t have regular employment. Anyway.

I haven’t written a narrative post in a while, and am in the mood to, so here’s a couple of insipid and semi-amusing anecdotes for you.

Pull up a chair, and let Uncie Josh spin you a tale or two.

That’s too close. Back your chairs up. Now. That’s better.

Last weekend, I went to a club of the gentlemanly persuasion with several friends. While there I managed to lose a tiny ziploc bag full of pills. Nothing that isn’t over-the-counter; just the various meds I keep for migraines and whatnot. Excedrin, Sudafed, Naproxen, Ibuprofen, and Pepto-Bismol. Nothing major, though they do make up a veritable rainbow of color, including pinks, blues, browns, whites, and reds.

I like to think that some dancer found my little ziploc baggy full of colorful, unmarked pills on the floor, and thought, It must be my birthday . . .

And now for the other ripsnorting story. Prepare yourself.

I went to see THE OTHER GUYS a day or two ago, and as the trailers started rolling, the upcoming movies didn’t strike me as a very good fit for a Will Ferrell “comedy.” Things like a NANNY MCPHEE sequel, RAMONA AND BEEZUS, and a couple other family-oriented movies. That’s when an employee came into the theater and announced that they’d screwed up, and were showing the wrong movie, and now we had to move to this other theater. Turns out they’d accidentally switched THE OTHER GUYS with a showing of DESPICABLE ME. So as we trekked over to the other theater, a bunch of angry-looking parents, children in tow, and a large group of mentally retarded people passed us. Apparently, their showing had started earlier than mine, and they’d gotten the trailers and beginning of THE OTHER GUYS.

Which means that the cinema had shown the trailer for DEVIL, a horror movie produced by M. Night Shyamalan, and the first fifteen minutes of THE OTHER GUYS — which features a big, loud car chase, and the line, “Well, I’d bang your tuna girlfriend” — to a room full of children and retarded people.

It amused me greatly. And I got a free movie pass out of it, which made it even better.

Comic book writer Mark Millar reviews the new KARATE KID “reimagining,” and in doing so delivers one of the best lines I’ve ever read in a film review:

I spoil it for no one when I point out that Will Smith 2.0 wins out and I can’t believe how satisfying it was to watch the spawn of a rich, Hollywood golden couple kick a poor, Chinese peasant boy in the face in front of a crowd.

The glowing head of Darth Vader stands a silent watch upon the entrance to my apartment.

Beware all ye — Jedi or Rebel alike — who enter.

(Posted from the field via Joshua Bales’s Flickr.)