moon phases |


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moon phases |
i have a new design (ironically, quite a peaceful one), and some *fucking* close tag or dot or definition has me totally hosed.
i cannot for the life of me figure out how i've fucked up a perfectly good piece of code.
anyone wanna debug it for me? i'll pay, in beer or as you like. my guess is, if you know blogger tags, you can point out the error of my ways in under five minutes.
pardon me. i'm going to go scream into a pillow and bang my head against the desk.
edited to add: because deciding to recode your entire page by hand, when you have only the foggiest of ideas as to how to make CSS, javascript and blogger tags play nicely together, and you're feeling like a hormonal, stressed-out, anxiety-ridden freak show is always a good idea, right? :/
but wait! it's not just me! it has been a big waffle-fest!
Bush administration has used 27 rationales for war in Iraq, study says
and that was just the first year.
(yes, it's a student thesis. but it seems quite thorough - there's a link at the bottom of the article to the thesis itself, all 200+ pages of it.)
one of the local stations, HRB, is playing a Nina Simone Orgy (apparently this is an annual May thing, these orgies), and someone dug way far back for a double album, on vinyl, and (thank you, students!) played it the way you should - put the needle down and play the whole damn side, dead air and all, altho with well-loved vinyl, it's hardly silent. ;)
I don't want a man with Harvard or Yale degrees
Because I don't intend to play 'Information, please'.
Just squeeze me or baby you gonna freeze me
You've got to Romeo me, make feel like I'm Salomè
- I Love to Love, Nina Simone
Vagina :: Eve Ensler
Racism :: incomprehensible
Mother's Day :: sunny
Fire alarm :: prank
Elvis :: has left the building
Pregnant :: new niece
Vacation :: planning
Waffles :: boat
Perpendicular :: teeth
Hospital :: disinfectant
but no, it was more that he didn't believe what he'd heard.
i'd gone into the store to pick up a bottle of wine, and after wandering the aisles fruitlessly, i decided to ask. up to the counter, and up to the pleasant-looking older gentleman, dress shirt in rich plummy pink, nice smile.
'i feel a bit rude asking this,' i said brightly. 'but do you carry a wine called Fat Bastard?'
he leaned forward just a bit, tilted his head. 'excuse me?'
'Fat. Bastard.'
'get out. you're kidding! there's a wine called that?' and he walks over to the younger guy working there, saying 'you'll never believe this one. guess what she asked for?'
fortunately, both the younger guy and the woman he was waiting on said 'oh, yeah - second to last aisle, on the left!' Mr. Pink Shirt actually walked over with us, just to make sure he'd heard correctly, and walked away, shaking his head.
leave it to me to have a soft spot for interestingly-named wines. ;)