Thirty. Time to put away childish things. Time to stop calling girls ‘chicks’ and refer to the distaff as women instead. Or broads, at least.

But especially, it’s time to shut this place down. As I am a husband, father, and professional filmmaker of little note, I no longer have time for you assholes and your pestering queries about whether or not Banky’s gay, or what happened to Bartleby and Loki after their demise. I’m older, wiser, and far too tired to deal with this bullshit anymore. Move on, folks. Go get lives. Go make your own movies. Quit bugging me and my friends and family. Piss off.

Now I’ve gotta turn my back on you…

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Wait…

I still need your money.

Fuck…

Alright – you can all stick around for a little longer. At least until I’m forty. But then I’ve REALLY gotta cut the cord.

Anyhoo, thanks for all the well-wishes and whatnot. As I’m really into this board and all of you, the extended View Askew family, it felt warm and sticky to read all the shout-outs for an old man with prostate problems. If we’re all still into this View Askew nonsense on my 37th birthday (and if I’m even still making flicks and raking in the loot), I promise a big bash which ya’ll can attend on my dime – complete with rides, cotton candy, and an elephant. So stay true to your ‘skew for at least another seven years, and get a ride on a pachyderm. Fair trade, I say.

Yesterday was awfully swell. Jen’s birthday surprise was not only incredibly thoughtful, but just about the best gift I’ve ever gotten. She brought me into my office to reveal new furniture, fixtures, and a clean floor. While this may not sound sexy to most of you, anyone who’s ever been in my office prior to yesterday morn (Violent Bob, I know you’ve been in here; that was the day the loose change went missing) can attest to the fact that it was a damn sty – cluttered, messy, and littered with half-emptied boxes from when we first moved in, nearly two years back. Now it actually looks like I’m a professional of some sort. You can walk around without leaping over potential EJay items and boxes of videos. There’s even a new TV, complete with VCR and DVD player (props to Scooter and Bry for the DVD player) so that I can concentrate on doing what I do best here:watch movies while tooling around the board, avoiding questions about Banky’s sexuality and B&L’s ultimate fate.

I love my wife. She really is a find and a half. But more so than anything else, she’s a filthy, filthy talker and bed. And I’m really into that.

As if the fun ended with that office gutting. I was promised a dinner date at a local swanky joint, and showed up with the little woman to find a surprise shindig. All the close friends were there, and the wife had managed to organize the event and keep it hushed-up for weeks – which is really sweet and moving, but also leads me to believe that if she can lie about a birthday party, she can be lying about any number of things, and getting away with it. So I ask you, my close friends, if any of you have fucked my wife, please come forward. It’s the only way I’ll ever find out, as the woman is apparently a genius liar.

All in all, it was a wonderful and memorable thirtieth, thanks to good friends and a tall, freckled, former USA Today journo who was goodly enough to let me take a shot at her one night, many moons ago.

I love you, Jen. Many, many thanks.

Mewes and I are leaving for Chicago in the morn, where we’ll spend the next three days meeting a greeting the folks of Illinois (and no-doubt answering the big Con question of the summer “Did you like ‘X-Men’”) at WizardCon. Drop by if you’re in the area – particularly on Saturday for the panel. If one of you in the audience is persuasive enough, you’ll get me to spill some deets about VA5.

After WizardCon, I’ll be able to post more regularly, and update you all on the progress of said flick. Until then, though – thanks again for the birthday well-wishes. Turning thirty isn’t all that mind-fucking as you’re led to believe. It’s actually not much different than turning twenty nine. Or sixty nine, I’d imagine.

Sixty nine. Snoogans.

From what I saw and can recall (mind you, this WAS a while ago), the only true line of mine that made it into the flick was “I’m not a lesbian. I played in the minors, but never went pro.” There’s a context which would do it a bit more justice, but if you’re really curious, you’ll go see the flick.

When I’m hired to do rewrites, I always imagine it’s for dialogue. Oddly enough, on this flick, they kept scenes, scenarios, and set-pieces I wrote, but used someone else’s dialogue. The big things that stick out which I contributed to the script…

1) Mostly all the names of the characters.

2) The father, as written in the first draft, was very old-country Italian. I made him John Goodman, more or less, and gave him a job working the Garden State Parkway.

3) Many scenes where – as mentioned above – characters meet and talk who hadn’t met or spoke in the prior draft. But again – none of my dialogue’s in there (which – while I may be biased – is a darn shame).

For the record, a major plot-point which I had NOTHING TO DO WITH is something that most people are going to assume I wrote. The love interest of the main character is into comics, and ‘Amazing Spiderman’ #109 figures prominently (first appearance of the ‘Punisher’). I didn’t write any of that in; a writer who came after me did (I believe there were – total – eight writers on the flick, with only one being credited; in true Writer’s Guild fashion, it was the first writer, even though the film little-resembles the first draft, in my opinion).

I think the flick will play huge to sixteen year old and under little girls. I’m sure it’ll be the number one flick at the box office this weekend. If you like watching girls dance to Charlie Daniels Band tunes atop bars, you might want to check it out yourself.

But if you’re looking for my brand of slime all over the picture, don’t get your hopes up. Outside of the fact that it’s set in Jersey, there isn’t much Askew in the movie.