• Devon’s account of insectile food hilarity. I’m not laughing at you, Brenna. I’m laughing with you. Honest.
  • From the Observer, erudite writer meets GTA: San Andreas:
    ‘Go play your piano, bitch!’ I shouted (I wasn’t angry: I had to yell to make myself heard), glancing up just long enough for her to catch the look of tranced concentration on my face as Carl waded into a bunch of Latinos. This wasn’t a game, this was true interactive entertainment.

In lieu of, you know, a decent post this morning.