rARsh!

Pimped

“I hate to say it, but your car’s been pimped”, said Chris (referring to MTV’s “hit” “shows“)

A discussion ensured (between the Constipation Motors staff) regarding the relative merits of the US and UK series. I resisted the temptation to suggest a local version be filmed, “Pimp moi roide”.

Truth be told it’s not much of a pimp job - all they’ve done is add the spoiler that hadn’t arrived in time for when I collected the Copen and change the registration plates for the vanity ones I’d bought.

Still, Chris & Co seemed happy with their work.

Earlier I’d bumped into Shazza. I’d not seen her for a while as she’s been keeping a low profile (given that she’s got a funeral to attend tomorrow this may be for a good reason). She’d waxed lyrically about the Copen (as she’d seen me sitting patiently in the car park last night) and also told me I looked “the picture of happiness”. I reckon it’s the beard - she’s always liked me in a beard.

Not liked in that way, of course. Well, I don’t think so. Hmmm. Maybe I should arrange a lunch date for next week … or an evening spin around Norfolk. Hmmm.

Bah.

It’s that time of year, folks. Time for my satellite system to develop another fault.

Regular as clockwork, isn’t it?

When I rang them tonight I mentioned (more politely than I feel they deserved) my dissatisfaction with the reliability of Sky’s Sky+ boxes. In fact, I was quite clear as to the degree of my dissatisfaction. Strangely enough, there’ll be no fee for next week’s engineer visit - must remember to book Thursday off when I get in tomorrow. If the inevitably cheerful engineer tells me that there’s no way to fix the box, though, he’s going to be told to uninstall the whole bloody kit and caboodle - I’ll get myself a cheap set-top freeview box instead as it’s just not worth the hassle (or the subscriptions for that matter).

In fact, now that I think of it that’s not a bad idea.

I’ll be disappearing again this weekend - dropping off that chosen print to the Bishop coinciding (probably) with ExpoNG in Swanley. I say “probably” because I’m not 100% sure I can be bothered with the show. Probably will pay a visit, though.

I’m hoping for bat-friendly weather at the Bishop’s. Not convinced I’m going to be able to get any photos of bats but it’ll be fun trying.

Not a good day

It started with a letter from the life insurance company to advise that, because I’m an obese, smoky tub o’lard my new policy’s going to cost me more than I was first quoted. Significantly more, in fact.

Still - at least I’m not a crazy, obese, smoky tub o’lard.

Managed to waste a few hours at work by building a program to look for something that wouldn’t exist. Not deliberately, you understand. I wasn’t seeking the philosopher’s stone, the holy grail or Tony Blair’s electability. I was just being stoopid.

So that’s a stupid, obese, smoky tub o’lard.

Leaving work comparatively early I noticed that traffic seemed heavy and, it must be said, largely stationary as I crossed the road to the car park. Nobody was moving, especially within the car park itself. I got into the car and waited for the queues to clear.

And sat. And waited. And sat. And waited.

And sat. And waited.

And sat. And waited.

It took me an hour and a half to get from the third floor of the car park to the ground floor (including 15 minute stroll back to the office for a “comfort break” - and no, I didn’t lose my place in the queue thanks to the break.

I must say that - given the obvious inconvenience of this delay (and I’ve no idea of the cause) - I was pleased at how laid back I remained throughout, not resorting to sounding my horn as some did. Goodness knows what they expected that to achieve.

So that’s a mellow, stupid, obese, smoky tub o’lard.

Home at last, it’s now too late for me to be bothered to go shopping for healthy, slimming stuff. Guess I’ll just have to finish off the rubbish I’ve got in the house. It’s a hard life, but I must change it. Soon.

Stubby, part 59

“What’ve you done with my ladies?” I challenged Twiggy.

“Stubby’s away to the Beer Festival, Shazza’s on her way back from Edinburgh.”

Beer Festival? Darn - I’d forgotten about that. I sent a text to Stubby:

Are you drunk yet?

Not go yet! U coming

(which I think meant “Not got there yet”)

Let me know when you’ve got your beer goggles on I’d forgotten all about it and have brought the car so you’re safe.

Come 4 a few

Thanks for the invite but I suspect the funds¹ would put me over the limit! Have fun anyway.

¹ Darned predictive text - I meant “fumes”.

Whizzed up

Sorted.

The missing line(s):

.navbar { height: 35px; border: 0px; }
a.green, a.red, a.yellow, a.blue, a.purple { display: block; float: left; }

Any CSS whizzes out there?

If so, please look at http://www.rarsh.com/css_oddity.html in Internet Explorer, Firefox and Opera.

Any explanations as to why the background colours don’t line up with the “clever” hover?

In Internet Explorer:

In Firefox:

In Opera:

There’s nothing clever in the CSS:

<style type="text/css">
.navbar { float: left; }
a:hover.green { background-color: green; }
a.red:hover { background-color: red; }
a.yellow:hover { background-color: yellow; }
a.blue:hover { background-color: blue; }
a.purple:hover { background-color: purple;}
</style>

and the code itself is simply:

<div class="navbar"><a class="green" href="#"><img src="category.gif" style="border:0;" /></a><a class="red" href="#"><img src="section.gif" style="border:0;" /></a><a class="yellow" href="#"><img src="stuff.gif" style="border:0;" /></a><a class="blue" href="#"><img src="morestuff.gif" style="border:0;" /></a></div>

SO WHY DOESN’T IT WORK IN FIREFOX AND OPERA AS IT DOES IN INTERNET EXPLORER?!

Ah, the B4031 and hearing voices

I wasn’t 100% sure where it is, but my TomTom took it along part of this road after I changed my route instructions to “Avoid motorways” shortly after crossing the Severn Bridge. What a fabulous road it is, all twisty and hilly. Fantastic. I actually said “whee!” out loud at one point.

Good TomTom.

Dad was amused by the satnav or, more accurately by my arguing with it.

“Yes, I know. I heard you the first time.”

“Why are you taking us this way?”

“Yes, yes, you’ve already said that once.”

Given his own history of thanking the TV weatherpeople for their forecasts I can only assume that talking back to voices that can’t hear you is genetic.

There’s a surprise

HowManyOfMe.com

There are: 0 people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

[via Croila (as usual)]