Watch as a very talented 3D modeler builds a CGI dinosaur.

Incidentally, I'm considering getting a tattoo of a Dromaeosaurus, probably based on this illustration at the Yahooligans site. I like the style they use for the dinos on that site - check out the Deinonychus and the Scipionyx.

The tricky part, I guess, is to find a way to make one of those drawings large enough so that the tattoo person can actually draw some of the fine details (teeth, claws), without making it so big that it won't fit on my skinny little Dromaeosaur arms.

In other dino news, I once used one of their drawings (and an Andy Capp panel) for this guy:

Green Day. Ever since they made themselves visible, back in ninety-whatever, with a bunch of catchy power-pop-punk singles - including one about jerking off - I've avoided them for being too obvious and too shallow - Punk Rock For Dummies - because. back when Green Day first appeared, I was playing in various bands of my own, and wouldn't tolerate other bands who took cheap shortcuts to songwriting. Unless they were being ironic, of course. Which Green Day wasn't. Oh, and maybe there was a bit of jealousy there, too: we all knew we could write songs like that, we just chose not to! (yeah, right) But, that was 15 years ago. Fast forward to modern times... a few weeks ago, the fantastic Mrs. Cleek and I were flipping through our 300 channels and landed on a Green Day concert on "Fuse" (which is like MTV for jumpy teenage skater boys - with eXtra eXtreme atty-tood, bitch!). They were surprisingly good - crazy catchy and authentically rocking. I knew half the songs already from simple osmosis over the years, I guess. I was impressed. So, I tossed-aside my rock-snobbery and bought "American Idiot". And then the next week I bought "Dookie". And I'm restraining myself from buying whatever else they've put out. Mrs Cleek loves here some "American Idiot". I think I like "Dookie" better - and that song about jerking off is awesome.

Bright Eyes. I'd read a bunch of reviews of him (Conor Oberst) here and there, many gushing with praise, but more than a couple putting him down for being some kind of punk-ass third-rate Dylan wanna-be for teenage girls. And I listened to a few previews on iTunes but didn't find anything that interested me, so I put Bright Eyes out of mind... until I discovered that he'd done a little EP with Brit Daniels from Spoon (a band I adore). So I bought that, and I love it. The two of them sound good together. Then a couple of weeks ago, the mighty Mrs Cleek and I saw Bright Eyes on Austin City Limits and I was impressed - not sure about Mrs C.. So, I went back to iTunes, did some more previews and picked up "I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning". I like it. It's just simple folky songs sung by a guy with a high, wiggly voice, a bit like Gordon Gano from the Violent Femmes. Sure, the Dylan comparison is an easy one to make because Oberst is singing wordy folk songs and playing acoustic guitar (and we all know Dylan was the only person to ever do that!). But unlike the hilariously bitter reviewer at allMusic.com, I don't fault Mr. Oberst for being 24 years old and not being the equal to Dylan, or McCartney, or Cobain. He does his thing and that's good enough for me.

On this Monday, foggy, sleepy, the iPod plays for me:

1. Sigur Ros - Viorar vel til loftarasa. A ten minute, atmospheric (well, of course, it's Sigur Ros), piano and strings piece.
2. Nine Inch Nails - The Collector. The iPod loves NiN.
3. Gastr Del Sol - A Puff of Dew. Another long atmospheric piece. This is not helping me wake up.
4. Thom Yorke - Skip Divided
5. Fleetwood Mac - Sisters Of The Moon
6. Flaming Lips - Brainville. If I squint, can hear what this would sound like as performed by the new electronics-happy F-Lips. It makes me sad.
7. Stereolab - Outer Accelerator
8. Rolling Stones - Melody. Meh.
9. Interpol - Stella Was a Diver. Yeah. Me like. Stelllllaaaa-haaahhh!
10. Jimi Hendrix Experience - 51st Anniversary. Not a great song, but I like listening to Jimi play, regardless of what he's playing. "You must be losing your *inhale / slow exhale* weak little mind..."

The Manolo loves shoes. And he (?), like many other people, hates Crocs.

Yipes. I guess it's a good thing I cooked the hell out of that bagged spinach last night!

Two people, 20 feet apart, separated by one open door, and a 5-foot cubicle wall, shouting into their speaker phones - talking to each other. I can hear all four parts of the conversation perfectly clearly - even with headphones on.

Boredom drives Scot at Izzle! Izzle pfaff! to speak, hilariously, like that windy Faulknarian, Cormac McCarthy:

Going into the restaurant they then sat down and they ordered from the waiter and the waiter said Okay let me get that for ye and he presently brought them the flesh and they ate it as man has been eating flesh since the sky wore a younger dress and our grandfathers danced in the skirts. The husband and his steadfast wife chewed and chewed the meat, hewing it with heavy knives, wielded with no uncertain skill and when they finished the meat he spat on the carpet.

Dont you spit on that damn carpet, she said again and he said Damn it, I wont as he spat on the carpet. You are one hellcat, I say, he said and she said Dont you swear, and he said All right I wont damn it, and he spat on the carpet.

The waiter returned with the tab and said Ill be ye cashier when youre of a mind to it. All right, he said. The bill was too high and the husband got took of a mind for a gutting. A quick swipe of the blade through the mans fascia and he would wear his guts for garters or play them standupbasslike with a rhythm on the downbeat and in the end he did not do that and he undertipped the waiter a good five percent and he walked out of the restaurant with a feeling in his chest like blind fish swam there in its dark waters and humors.

Presently they returned home, husband and wife, each silent as apothecaries in dust and they sat down back again in their places that they had chosen years ago and which were beyond change or reckoning.

Hopefully, the boredom elapsed before any melons were fucked.