Jesus can he just stay with one look for fuck�s sake?

At least that is my guess what several of you readers are probably thinking since I just finished the new template for my diary.

And as you can see I have made a pretty big departure from my usual �black background and a bunch of other shit� template designs. This is very evident in my last template seeing as a lot of people couldn�t even see the majority of the page.

Well that�s easy to fix, time to make a new template.

Seriously I think I�m slightly addicted to building graphics for a template. Yet as much as I love the graphics the coding gives me a desire to grab a bowl of popcorn, watch the movie, and go insane with the rest of the world.

Sorry, In the Mouth of Madness reference there. Just in case you don�t know what I�m talking about.

I really never have a greater urge to kill someone in life then the hours I spend toiling over the coding and wondering what the fuck could be wrong!

Christ the shit drives me nuts. Just when I think I have it figured out a monkey wrench gets thrown into the works and it just doesn�t piece together right. And looking for that one little fuck up in the coding is the hardest fucking shit on the face of the planet!

Ok, I exaggerate a tad on that.

Finding that one fuck up in all that coding is sort of a kin to trying to spot that one lone friend in the audience at a concert arena on TV. You think you have spotted your friend, but it turns out that person just really looks like them. And so do about a million other assholes in the audience.

Wait, that just doesn�t quite give this justice.

Ok amendment to that example. Imagine doing that after you have just drank a dozen shots of whiskey in less then twenty minutes on an empty stomach.

Not quite right yet.

Ok now imagine there are people constantly getting in the way of the TV and others trying to hold a long, in depth conversation with you about what it�s like after death or what the chemical make up of cheese whiz is.

You got that mental image going? Can you picture all that frustration you would have in that situation?

Ok now��THROW IN TWO DOZEN FLYING MONKEYS!

I don�t have a fucking clue where those flying monkeys came from or why they are there, but you don�t care at this time. You can feel that whiskey flowing through your veins and your little red blood cells waving a non-chalant hand while mumbling �fuck it, let the whiskey do the work for us.� Add on you are gradually getting annoyed at the friends gabbing in your ears like crack heads after a hit the size of your head. And let�s not forget the inconsiderate assholes who must not have an older sibling or they would have had the idea �don�t walk in front of the fucking TV� burned into there psyche. More then likely by a home made cattle prod devised by said older sibling after they smashed every toy you ever loved then tried getting you to drink a glass of pee and calling it �Mountain Dew.�

Can you tell I�m severely frustrated here?

Yeah this is a result of spending the past three or four hours fucking with that coding and not figuring out what that one fuck up was. This wouldn�t have been as bad if I didn�t start getting drag ass tired about two hours in.

And ok this is somewhat misdirected annoyance and frustration, but that part yields from the original subject I planned on writing for this entry.

That particular subject can wait until tomorrow when I�m not questioning if I�m really doing this or am I just dreaming I�m doing this.

And if I�m dreaming this and you all are reading it let me ask you a question.

How the fuck did you get in my head!

And um�don�t explore to far. I can�t guarantee you�ll come back with your sanity then.

It's about time - Wednesday, Jul. 07, 2004
An Honor for Chrome - Friday, Feb. 20, 2004
A great loss - Monday, Oct. 20, 2003
a terrible announcement. - Tuesday, Sept. 09, 2003
Chrome speaks: - Friday, Sept. 05, 2003