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CSS vs. PuglyFeet

CSS vs. PuglyFeet

In case you've missed my blurbs and updates to Daily Mug, I've been battling with the CSS I wrote a year ago for this very blog. It's an EFFING mess, to say the least. Though being a web developer can be immensely rewarding, there are moments when I realize that it is perhaps the worse possible job for a control freak like myself -- I get pretty emotional and start cussing profusely at my monitor. There is absolutely little control over how a page looks from the eyes of one's computer platform, browser, system preferences, etc. With respect to viewing web pages, beauty literally lies in the eye of the beholder. If the beholder happens to be Firefox or IE 7, the site looks palatable. However, older versions of IE, well, not so palatable. Look at the picture above. Via IE6, my footer is floating on top of my contact form -- very bad. This is only icing on the cake, too. Oh my...

Blog posts will resume after the battle with CSS is over. Defeat is not an option!



Can You Spot the Ugly?

Ugly Google Ad

This screen was captured tonight at 11:15 pm. Sure, my blog is Pro-Ad, but that is one ugly ass ad -- so much so, it makes me want to remove Google's Ad Sense.



Meet Itchy

Itchy's been on my face for the last few months. It began as a minuscule and innocent little bump beneath layers and layers of skin. Well, though it's appeared explosive since Saturday, I wouldn't be surprised to find it right under my nose for yet another day. I'm very tempted to give it a good squeeze.

Meet Itchy at your own risk...

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Renting In a College Town

Marcelle on Hardwood

Dear Landlord,

Short of the experience we've had with our neighbor in Apt. #13, our stay here has been pleasant. As you can imagine, Sunday's midnight party in Apt. #13, was the final straw. After you spoke with them, their voices escalated. We waited about a half hour for them to calm down, but the noise kept up. At 12:15AM we called the police and they came to talk with her. Even after the police left, the party continued unabated. From their laughter, we believe they thought it was all a big joke.

After much discussion, we have decided that our only solution is to move out after the current semester ends. We would like to move out right now, but that is out of the question. We will simply bear with the current situation for a few months longer.

We have done our very best to be considerate neighbors. Throughout our time here, we've had a no shoe policy in our home because we can imagine how annoying it must be to hear your neighbors walking on your ceiling. Additionally, last year, we purchased noise canceling head sets so that our television wouldn't bother our neighbor. Again, this has been done out of consideration for our unappreciative neighbor. We've even refrained from having guests over late in the evening because we know how transparent this building is. And, again, this has been done out of consideration for our neighbor.

Despite all these things we've done to be considerate, we've never expected her to adopt the same rules. We've tolerated noises all throughout the day, but the one thing we did expect was to be able to sleep from 11:30 pm to 7am.

Quite frankly, we're tired of being considerate and will stop being so right now. When calling the police doesn't have an effect, the only step that makes sense is to leave the whole mess behind. We don't really have any desire to nag a silly girl who only wants to accommodate her boisterous party buddies no matter how inappropriate the time (midnight and beyond).

So, we're writing to let you know how we will eventually resolve our problem. We will move and we will give you notice once we set a date. As for the tenant below us, she can host a party today and every day until we leave and we don't care. We won't bother you with this problem any more. But, we want to thank you and your family for all the help and the many kindnesses you've extended to us throughout the years we've been here. We have only the best feelings for you and your wonderful family.

New rule:
Shoes are now welcome on our hardwood floors (especially any stapled clog by Dansko).



The Hardest Walk

Rainbow Socks

A classmate and I were chit chatting after class on Wednesday night and after a few minutes, I said, “Okay, man, I gotta go. My boyfriend is picking me up tonight.” Confusion washed over his face as he said, “You have a boyfriend?!?!” Then I was all, “Yeah, I do. Why do you look so surprised?” Then he said, “I don’t know… I thought you were gay.”

Immediately, I felt this was a compliment and I even thanked him for it. But as I walked away, I thought, “Wait a minute…” When men are mistaken to be gay, superficially I think it’s usually because they are groomed meticulously, and are dressed impeccably well. But it's different for women. When a woman is thought to be gay, on the surface, one would assume so because the woman appears, well, to be candid: butch. But this couldn’t be so. For god’s sake, I wear red lipstick! Doesn’t he know that I’m 28% girly?!? Being assumed gay is not the issue, but looking butch is. Perhaps it was the rainbow socks I was wearing that night, I don’t know. But wait! Oh my god. No way… It all became clear and oddly enough, I found it amusing. I think I know why my classmate thought I was gay. I’m probably still doing it… I’m probably still doing The Strut.

My dad was and is the personification of macho and when I was but a wee little lass, I was his loyal sidekick. As his sidekick, I followed him everywhere (ie. work, the barber shop, errands, etc) and I aspired to be just like my dad when I grew up. So how did I emulate him? I imitated his walk and needless to say, I did a very good job.

Well, old habits die hard because even when I no longer wanted to walk like my dad, I did. I’ve been told that I strut. I’ve been told that I swagger. I’ve also been told that I bounce when I walk. When I was 15, an uncle even told me that I strutted like a cowboy. Bouncy cowboy swagger strut. Just great. I thought I had fixed my walk, but I guess I was mistaken. When I was conscious of it, walking *girly* felt awkward and unnatural, quite frankly. Oh, c’est la vie. If I walk like a man, I walk like a man, dammit. Oh, my Papa will be so proud.




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