Code Red

When I previously brought up redesigning my website, I referred to it as 'starting small' when compared to all the other shit I need to sort out with my life. As it turns out, losing 50lbs, developing a personality not predicated on passive-aggression and beating (whoopsie daisy...not yet, my boy, not yet...) are a fucking cakewalk in comparison, as none of these in any way involve Actionscript.Ah, Actionscript. Or, as I like to call it, 'c**tcode'. I pray that whoever developed it outlives their only child. Or at the very least they lose both testes (or ovaries - I don't discriminate) to a particularly nasty battle with a rabid pine weasel. Just when I get to grips with it I find that there are several variations on it that don't function at all while running alongside one another, resulting in an entirely new language I've developed for use when exasperated. It's predominantly comprised of grunts, rhythmic projectile spitting, fiendishly-modified racial epithets and self-mutilation.I suppose it makes the taste of victory that little bit sweeter when I finally get the f***ing sh***ing tw***ing c***ing thing to do what I f***ing sh***ing tw***ing c***ing want it to. Betraying my natural instinct to immediately give up on anything that's hard to begin with, I'm progressing it ever-so-incrementally and, in most respects, it's coming along quite well. Look at some purty screen grabs while I go back to it and choke back tears of vexation.