when it was called "Jacob's Ladder."

Go rent "Jacob's Ladder." It's an amazing, devestating movie.

Umm, let's see...

If I wasn't in the middle of cutting up my arms with a kitchen knife, I would probably be in hour nine of sitting in front of the computer, researching rare diseases that I'm never going to get. I certainly wouldn't be eating: I'd have already spent the weeks and months researching why I can't drink poisoned milk, and all the things that happen if you eat beef laced with hormones, and how you can get E. coli from salads, so that I've decided the only thing that's safe for me to eat is microwave popcorn, but then there was that story about the people who work in the microwave popcorn factory and the butter made them sick and what if I get sick from inhaling the popcorn I just made? I can't eat anything from cans, because cans have botulism in them. Wow, Mom and Dad just bought take home Olive Garden, yum. Wait, does this sauce taste off to you? Better go upstairs and throw up just in case. And next thing I know it's in and out of the hospital with "some unknown stomach aliment" which in reality is caused by existing on White Castle french fries, which for some reason known only in the dark recesses of my mind are the only non-toxic food on the planet.

But I have a life beyond obsessing about food. I also obsess about imaginary spots on my face and back that I spend hours picking at, because what if they're cancer and you can't get cancer if you remove the cancer yourself, right? Spots that when I was younger I would cover with Band-aids or make-up before I left the house, but now I don't even bother because people are more likely to make a big deal out of the Band-aids than they are the weeping sores. Thank god I have a cubicle at work, where I can hide for eight hours, picking and researching to my heart's content. Thank god I have a boss who doesn't seem to care that I haven't done anything productive in months. Thank god I live alone, so I can go home and curl up on the couch under an electric blanket turned up to high and it's the middle of August and there's no food in the house because food will kill you and don't answer the phone because it's tiring trying to sound like everything's okay and I'm just going to fall asleep with Jay Leno on and get my two hours of sleep in before I wake up at one to start a new day.

But now it's three years of therapy and 40mg of Prozac a day later, and for the first time in fifteen years I ate a boneless barbeque chicken wing and I cried because it was SO GOOD and I finally knew deep in my heart that I wasn't going to drop dead from eating it. And my face has finally started to clear up and the scars have started to fade and I sleep through the night under an electric blanket turned up to high but it's December and I don't want to get out of bed because I'm warm and toasty and snuggled up in my husband's arms.

So does that answer your question? If these drugs didn't exist, I wouldn't be NORMAL. I would probably be DEAD. So cut me some slack if I don't feel like giving them up right now.

I just want to see a giant gorilla beat the crap out of a dinosaur.

There was an aawesome campaign for the movie that went like this...

10 Seconds: The Pain Begins. 15 Seconds: You Can't Breathe. 20 Seconds: You Explode.

This perfectly describes my experience watching the State of the Union.

The last paragraph of Blumenthal's article sums up exactly why I can't under any circumstances listen to or read anything the Adminstration says. I've been saying for years that the (unintended?) irony of EVERYTHING that spews forth from them will soon make my head explode. We support "Democracy" but demand others overthrow their elected government? "I like the competition of ideas" in any country except my own...except when those ideas clash with mine, and then I denounce them. "Our differences cannot be allowed to harden into anger"...I'm talking to you ter'rist lovin' Lib'rls *point point point*!!!

I have to stop typing...my hands are starting to shake.

House also has a great collection of t-shirts from which to steal.

Lou Reed was quoted as calling Duran Duran's cover of Perfect Day "the best cover ever completed of one of my songs," and that it sounded how he would've wanted it to, better than his version. Dylan also praised their cover of Lay Lady Lay. And their cover of White Lines has become a fan favorite and concert staple.

I'll grant you that it's not my favorite Duran album, but the "worst album ever?"

World of Warcraft

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V5d7PEoEHZc&search=internet%20is%20for%20porn

I believe the United States should allow all foreigners in this country, provided they can speak our native language:

Apache.