"Hackers" is, without a doubt, the most unintentionally funny movie of ALL TIME, especially if you have any experience whatsoever using anything that has some sort of keyboard attached to it. I insisted Lizzle check it out one day, and she wanted to update me on her progress with getting it. So now, I bring you... IM Theater (I left the timestamps in because they are intregal to the telling of this amazing tale).

[22:11] Lizzle: oooh I am getting Hackers from netflix on friday
Session Close (Joe:Lizzle): Wed Mar 30 22:11:04 2005

Session Start (Joe:Lizzle): Wed Mar 30 22:49:17 2005
[22:49] Joe: cool :)
[22:49] Joe: let me know what you think of it
[22:50] Lizzle: ... I got distracted... what were we talking about?
[22:50] Joe: xylophone music
[22:51] Lizzle: really?
[22:51] Joe: ...
[22:51] Joe: YES!
[22:51] Joe: come on
[22:51] Joe: i was only gone for a few mins... you don't remember?
[22:51] Joe: check the logs
[22:51] Lizzle: mm hmmm.
[22:52] Lizzle: I'm not logging
[22:52] Lizzle: plus I took an ambien which is making cordinating my brain hard
[22:52] Joe: ah
[22:52] Lizzle: I'm at 70% liz mental capacity
[22:53] Joe: well, you told me you ordered Basil Tasker's record
[22:53] Joe: and i told you to let me know what you think of it
[22:53] Lizzle: What?
[22:54] Lizzle: I didn't order anyone's record
[22:54] Joe: ?
[22:54] Joe: [22:11] Lizzle: oooh I am getting Basil Tasker's album this week
[22:54] Joe: [22:49] Joe: cool :)
[22:54] Joe: [22:49] Joe: let me know what you think of it
[22:55] Lizzle: I said that? I don't know who that is...
[22:56] Joe: You were telling me about him, he's apparently some xylophone player in austraila
[22:56] Lizzle: I've never heard of this guy!!
[22:57] Joe: [22:11] Lizzle: http://www.abc.net.au/arts/adlib/stories/s861606.htm

[22:58] Joe: are you serious? you don't remember this?
[22:58] Lizzle: not at ALL
[22:58] Lizzle: You are fucking with me
[22:58] Joe: ?
[22:58] Joe: no
[22:58] Joe: not at ALL
[23:00] Joe: :)
[23:01] Lizzle: well, I clearly entered a fuge state where I research and ordered Australian cripple music
[23:01] Joe: yeah, i was wondering about it myself
[23:01] Joe: :P
[23:01] Lizzle: I will stab you in the eye if you prank me on April 1



I've avoided rendering an opinion on the whole Terri Schivao case. I've been asked by co-workers, by friends, and by readers - "What do YOU think of the Schivao case?" And so far, my answer has been the same in all instances - "I don't really know. I'm not her, and I'm not her family, and I don't know the whole story personally, so I can't really say."

Then, I saw this on AP:

I think I finally have an opinion, thanks to this little girl's sign. If I were Terri, I'd summon whatever strength I may have - provided I was acutally capable of cognizant thought, which they say she isn't - and I'd bang my head in morse code like the guy in the video for Metallica's "One" :

-.- .. .-.. .-.. -- .


Oh my god i am so fucking high right now i'm high as a kite i won't come down hahahahaha i took like like like like like like like FIVE (that's 5 for you math types) pills called something like tylenol or something and then had i don't know like 4 cups of coffee or some shit and now i'm SO FUCKING HIGH


I wish Paris Hilton and Fred Durst would end up on the same aeroplane, fucking in the bathroom, when the pilots run snickering out of the cockpit, don parachutes, and leap to safety as the plane careened into a mountainside.

Any mountainside.

I'm not picky.


I woke up this morning at the ungodly hour of 6:00 AM (after going to bed early about 2:00 AM. I couldn't sleep, I guess). I decided, since I was up, I'd just get an early start on the day, so I showered, dressed, and hopped on out the door to work.

On the way here, I came upon a Chick-Fil-A and thought, "Boy, I could sure go for a tasty Chicken & Egg Bagel right about now!!!" (Yes, my thoughts DO contain exclamation points). So, I pulled in and took my place in line behind about 12 other cars containing people who had the same idea as me.

As I sat there, parked on the corner in mid-turn heading around the building toward the little speakerboxxy thing, I noticed a slight bit of movement with the window on the driver's side of the Ford Aerostar in front of me. It slid down just a bit, then produced the extended digits of a human hand containing between them the smoldering butt of an expired cigarette. Casually, they seperated, allowing the butt to tumble to the Earth below.

Now, I need to make it clear that I don't have a problem with the act of smoking. If someone wants to light something on fire and then inhale the waste material produced by the consumption of matter by flame, fine by me. Couldn't care less, more power to them, so on and so forth. I do, however, have a problem with ASSHOLES (some of whom are smokers, others of whom are NOT smokers - if you're an asshole, what you do in your free time does not change the fact that you are an asshole) who treat the world like it's their ashtray.

Normally, I'd just honk, flip the dickhead off, and go about the business of anticipating the tasty breakfast which awaited me at the drive-thru window. But for some reason -- Lack of sleep, maybe... Or the fact that I was up before the sun and thus wasn't truly in my normal theater of operation -- Whatever it was, it made me just a little less passive-agressive this morning.

I placed my car in park, opened the door, and approached the driver's side of the van. I reached down and scooped up the still-smoking filtered end of the cigarette and then knocked on the window of the van. The scraggly-haired older man looked at me with the shock and horror of a man who just witnessed a lunatic pick up a used cigarette butt and knock on his car window. Cautiously, he rolled down the window just a bit and inquired, "Yes?"

"You dropped this," I said plainly.

"Uh... Yeah?" He half stated, half asked.

"I thought you might like it back."

His eyes grew wide and his mouth hung open. "Uh... Well, I... Well..."

He was just about to say "No" when I extended the butt foward and said "Well, here you go."

Dazed and confused, he looked at my expressionless face for a moment, opened his window a little more, reached out, and accepted the used ciggy. He then turned and smashed it into his overflowing ashtray, then looked back at me with a still-amazed look on his face.

I nodded and waved, then returned to my car, where I pulled forward to fill the gap created by all the cars that had moved on during that time, a few steps closer to chickeny goodness.


I was sitting here with my headphones on, typing on my super nifty Sony Vaio laptop, not really paying any attention to much of anything. I looked up at the television, and I saw this goofy half gothic fuck doing some sort of weak-ass front-man crap, so I popped off my headphones for a second.

It sounded like someone captured all the suck in the world in a jar, punched some holes in the lid, and held it up to a microphone so it could just whine and buzz away.

When it was all over, Jay Leno comes over and thanks "Good Charlotte" for their performance amidst the shrill, high-pitched screams of all these frantic little girls in the crowd, and it dawned on me:

So long as there are 16 year old girls, there will be sucky, SUCKY music.