hang the dj
While most people were out and about enjoying various and sundry long holiday weekend activities, I was home getting busy...
... with some JavaScript. Now before you go branding me a nerd of the highest order, I must add that I'm illin. I've been battling either a) the longest build-up to a cold in the history of the human race or b) a nasty bout of allergies. In short, I've felt like ass for the past week and a half. Factor in some PMS and well, I've just been delightful to be around lately. So in the interest of not beating people senseless and/or sneezing on them, I sequestered myself in my wee studio and made with the freelance site building and nose blowing.
I did manage to emerge from my bitchy, congested cocoon Sunday night to attend a lovely Sapphic soiree in Queens. We ate, BS'd and giggled all the while ogling the hot women of The L Word. Jennifer Beals, if you're out there and decide that the whole married with children thing ain't doin' it for you no mo, do give me a jingle.
After my lone night out socializing, I got right back to work yesterday redesigning a site for my friend. I built the original site for her kick-ass biznatch a couple of years ago and it's high time the thing got an overhaul. I blush at the thought of any techie types viewing the source code of my first-ever website. It's tres embarrassing.
ANYhoo, throughout my weekend of web developing, I relied on the random shuffle on iTunes and the 80s Alternative channel on AOL Radio to keep me movin' and groovin'. Yesterday I decided to mix it up a bit and listen to my LAUNCHcast radio station. I've been very diligent in programming this station. I take great pains to rank songs and artists and/or banish others completely. The process has thus far been successful in forming a genre-crossing playlist devoid of most shit I can't stand. It's become a source of pride, really.
But my world came tumblin' (tumblin') down yesterday. Somehow... blech, the mere thought of this makes me skeeve... Atlantic Starr's "Secret Lovers" made its way onto my station. The euphoria from the previous track ("Float On" by Modest Mouse) was short lived when that rogue 80s ballad began seeping out of the speakers. I felt helpless... paralyzed. The keyboard and soft drum machine intro surrounded me like a poisonous fog and held me captive. But miraculously I broke free of the sleeper hold and skipped that fucker into oblivion. So let that be a lesson to the rest of that soft rock ilk. You dig, Richard Marx? Stay out!
... with some JavaScript. Now before you go branding me a nerd of the highest order, I must add that I'm illin. I've been battling either a) the longest build-up to a cold in the history of the human race or b) a nasty bout of allergies. In short, I've felt like ass for the past week and a half. Factor in some PMS and well, I've just been delightful to be around lately. So in the interest of not beating people senseless and/or sneezing on them, I sequestered myself in my wee studio and made with the freelance site building and nose blowing.
I did manage to emerge from my bitchy, congested cocoon Sunday night to attend a lovely Sapphic soiree in Queens. We ate, BS'd and giggled all the while ogling the hot women of The L Word. Jennifer Beals, if you're out there and decide that the whole married with children thing ain't doin' it for you no mo, do give me a jingle.
After my lone night out socializing, I got right back to work yesterday redesigning a site for my friend. I built the original site for her kick-ass biznatch a couple of years ago and it's high time the thing got an overhaul. I blush at the thought of any techie types viewing the source code of my first-ever website. It's tres embarrassing.
ANYhoo, throughout my weekend of web developing, I relied on the random shuffle on iTunes and the 80s Alternative channel on AOL Radio to keep me movin' and groovin'. Yesterday I decided to mix it up a bit and listen to my LAUNCHcast radio station. I've been very diligent in programming this station. I take great pains to rank songs and artists and/or banish others completely. The process has thus far been successful in forming a genre-crossing playlist devoid of most shit I can't stand. It's become a source of pride, really.
But my world came tumblin' (tumblin') down yesterday. Somehow... blech, the mere thought of this makes me skeeve... Atlantic Starr's "Secret Lovers" made its way onto my station. The euphoria from the previous track ("Float On" by Modest Mouse) was short lived when that rogue 80s ballad began seeping out of the speakers. I felt helpless... paralyzed. The keyboard and soft drum machine intro surrounded me like a poisonous fog and held me captive. But miraculously I broke free of the sleeper hold and skipped that fucker into oblivion. So let that be a lesson to the rest of that soft rock ilk. You dig, Richard Marx? Stay out!
Labels: music, television
posted by curly mcdimple @ 5:00 PM :: permalink :: ::
