Did You Get the Number of the Taxi That Hit Me?; Personal Life

I was bopping down the electronic superhighway, minding my own business, stopping to smell the roses, helping old ladies across the street, acting as crossing guard for a troop of girl scouts selling cookies, weaving my nimble ass through the traffic, when what should I encounter -- BUT a Russkie hacker! No joke!

No doubt with the demise of the Berlin Wall, the fall of communism and the spiraling increases in vodka prices, boredom was quick to set in. And what better way to beat the blahs than to attack the computers of the evil empire of the west. And it could not have come at a worse time. Not only was I behind on about a dozen projects, I was desperately trying to gear up for some new ventures.

The hacker hit ten days ago, and by the end of last week, I was just a tad overstressed and surly. However, I think little damage was done, and, by luck, I caught the intrusion within 24 hours. But what a fucking pain it has been to deal with. And the more I read about how the net works and how insecure it really is, I'm amazed that it ever works.

Finally sometime Sunday eve, I could begin to feel the tension ease away. Of course now, I need to get back to the old and new efforts.

Oh that's a good one! Haa! Haa! Haa! Hee! Hee! Hee! What fucking personal life!

Maybe tomorrow will bring a better day! I'll win the lottery? The progressive slots? The powerball? The actor who plays The Beastmaster will turn up at my door pledging to be my love slave? With my luck, it will be Richard Simmons with a new diet book!

PAX!