Brains.

Hey, these guys write a zombie blog, too. Only, as far as I can tell, they don't actually eat any brains. Which frankly is pretty weak. But they've recently posted about the Necronomicon and Re-Animator, which is cool enough that I probably won't eat their brains. Today.

Brains.

I ran into Zombie Eve Longoria again yesterday. She apologized for eating all my brains last time I saw her. I thought that was sweet.

I said I'd forgive her if she let me turn Nicollette Sheridan into a zombie. (I'm still mad at Paige for killing Peter.) She told me that Nicollette was engaged to Michael Bolton. I said forget it, that's already punishment enough.

Brains.

Charlie* don't surf, and zombies don't snowboard. I should've remembered that before I went to Tahoe this weekend.

I broke seventeen bones. Fortunately only five of them were mine.

I also ate seventeen brains. I think the one I found in the woods was Sonny Bono's.

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*I don't know which Charlie this means, but I bet it's Charlie Rose.

Brains.

Snakes on a Plane isn't due to be released until August 18, and already I'm so sick of hearing about it that I swear I'm going to eat the brains of the next 1,000 people on the internet who reference it, either ironically or in all sincerity.

That said, I'm still gonna see it on opening day. It's SNAKES on a PLANE, dude.

Brains.

If someone doesn't get cracking on organizing a Night Court reunion movie while all the leads are still alive and relatively presentable (Harry Anderson's getting pretty chunky, yo), I'm going to start eating all their brains out of spite.

But not Markie Post. Never my Markie.

Brains.

Remember on Sesame Street, when beloved corner shop owner Mr. Hooper died? And then the adults in the neighborhood had to explain to Big Bird that Mr. Hooper wasn't going to be coming back? I think that was one of the most touching and powerful moments in not just children's TV, but in all television history.

When Mr. Hooper's zombified corpse returned and devoured the original Gordon? Slightly less touching. But about 100 times as awesome.

Brains.

If I were to have my own TV sitcom, I think I'd like to play the comically uptight owner of a delightful little bed and breakfast located in a quaintly colorful small town. My staff would include a wacky chef, possibly with a funny accent, a surly but lovable handyman, and a pretty maid who may or may not be in love with me as the owner.

Then, every night, we would feast on the brains of our guests in a horrifically graphic and violent orgy of gore.

Maybe I would have a catch phrase, too. "Them brains is grub-a-licious!!"

Brains.

I was listening to some Jim Gaffigan, and he got me thinking, you know what would go good in a Hot Pocket?

Brains.

Braaaaaaaain Pocket!