Short reviews of pretty much whatever. Finally, you can discover if Frosted Flakes Gold has more social worth than Illmatic or Romeo and Juliet by Shakespeare.
Do you like stories where ghosts and skeletons and racist Indian caricatures appear? Then this is the movie for you! Nah, it's actually pretty bad in case you couldn't tell. The plot is the family from the way good first movie still has ghosts, and also HR Giger designed vomit worms. So then they get rid of them through some kind of spells and also grandma's angel, ain't it grand?
Woah, crap, what happens if you eat too much or drink too much or get the flu too much? That's right, it's Puke City, otherwise known as Barfsville, population: gross. What happens is your stomach is like "What the fuck is this nonsense" and decides to make an eviction, but like back the way said nonsense came. Puking (barfing) can suck if you do it on somebody's face, boob, cat, etc, but on the other hand it still sucks no matter what. Sometimes girls can have self esteem issues and I heard they have barf parties where they all sit in a circle and take turns barfing into plastic bowls and compare the color and whoever's barf has the coolest color combination (id: magenta and aquamarine) gets to be prom queen or something, so I guess add that one to the many mysteries of women that I will never understand.
Last weekend Glenn hosted the R3 party at his place in Houston (thanks, Glenn!) Many of our current posters were in attendance in person or via the miracle of the telephone. It was a fun time, with assorted cheeses, assorted boozes, Mexican food, community food, too many cigarettes, and general boisterous festivity. I found out what Laurie is like in person, what a $9 marguerita tastes like, and also that Viking Andrew has a mangina attached to his scapula. However, he was able to beer again the next afternoon, while I spent the day vomiting copiously, so I guess there's a little mangina in all of us (men, anyways. I wonder why girls don't call each other "dicks.") Speaking of dicks, some douchebags vandalized our friend's car, which was super-uncool, but we can maybe find some solace in the fact that chickenshit losers who "solve" their problems via passive aggressive crime are usually mean, stupid, and unhappy, and are statistically more likely to end up getting shot or fucked in jail. Also, we called Brent Newland, who seemed nice but didn't believe us when we told him who we were. The End.
Since John Grisham has recently taught us about foreshadowing, many other artists are eager to use this cutting-edge device. Ideally, when foreshadowing, you want to drop clues subtle enough that the reader won't focus on them, but concrete enough that later, while the reader may be surprised, they don't feel duped. You can also foreshadow in film! But the problem with foreshadowing pregnancy is that when you drop clues, the audience immediately knows what's up because the symptoms of pregnancy have been broadcast to death. If a woman has had some kind of sex and all of a sudden has to pee lots, feels hungry, tired, or nauseous, pukes, craves pickle-and-mustard sandwiches, faints, doesn't fit into her favorite jeans, or wonders where her period's gone, we all immediately know she is pregs. I don't want to spoil the plot of this film I saw recently, so I'll just call the movie Rabie Llama -- in Rabie Llama, a woman does some of the things listed above and the audience collectively suffered with the obvious until the adoreable reveal. If anyone can think of a unique way to foreshadow pregnancy, I will tip my metaphorical hat to them. 
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