My hosting service – iPowerWeb – sucks. They tried to run an autopayment on an old credit card. When it didn’t work, they instantly yanked down my site. Classy. How about sending me an email, you turds? Ever tried that?
Anyway, the site’s up, as you can see. But there are still lots of bugs from the “system upgrade” iPower Web ran awhile back, and publishing this blog is more difficult than it ought to be for inexplicable reasons. It keeps taking six months to publish and then says “Your blog published with errors.” Except then it’s published, and I don’t know what the errors are. I’d change hosting packages if I weren’t so freaking lazy.
Driving back from Colorado sucked, too. Cold. Snowy. Screamy.
Mitt Romney is now leading in Florida by five points, and everyone is pretending it’s all over for him. Uhhhh, why? Is it because he has more delegates and primary victories than anyone else? Is that why he should drop out and let McCain ream the Republicans? Huh? HUNH?
I came home to about two feet of snow in front of my garage. And the City of Sandy refuses to plow our cul-de-sac. Why? Is it because Mitt Romney is leading in Florida? Is this all Richard Dutcher’s fault? I have no evidence, so I’m going to have to say yes. And now that I’ve typed Richard Dutcher’s name again, he’s going to visit this blog whether he wants to or not. And when he discovers I have NOTHING TO SAY ABOUT HIM, that’ll be five minutes of his life that he can NEVER GET BACK.
This isn’t about Dutcher, but typing his name reminded me that I saw a bad Mormon movie over the weekend, too. Mormons and Mobsters. Deeply stupid. Maybe it should have been the first Mormon R-rated movie ever instead of the Dutcher thing. It wasn’t. The mobsters all had strangely clean mouths, and the Mormons were all from Stepford, Connecticut. They had a great helicopter night shot of New York City at the beginning, though, and it makes me wonder how they got that. Did they pirate it from one of the Die Hard movies?
My sons are better at Guitar Hero III than I am. And they’re f%*#ing six years old. (I want to swear, but this is not an R-rated blog. The MPAA can bite me.)
I’m going to bed.
Up yours.
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