Basic Web Design with Jamie King


Intro Class - Friday, April 18th 6:00 - 7:30 P.M

Cost: $160.00



This eighteen week course will focus on teaching you the beginnings of web design and help you achieve a finished project at the end of the classes without frying your brain. Starting with basic HTML mastery for the first eight weeks, you will learn basic code structure, concepts, tools and theories that will help you grasp and retain knowledge so you can finally build that website that you know you've always wanted. The second eight weeks will give you basic graphic design skills so you can create a custom layout for whatever project it is you're working on.



The majority of this course is contained in easy to use online lessons, which will allow you the ease of working from (or banging on) your own computer from home. A computer with internet capabilities is highly suggested.



For more information or register, please contact Jamie at 503-463-4020 or E-mail Me@kiddlets.com


You know you want to! :)

In honor of CS coming out and the fact that I don't have to buy it because someone got it for me, I am now the keeper of Ashers' Lighter.





I'd also like to add that I'm the first. Therefor the REAL keeper of his lighter. Woo baby, woo. How is that for spiffy?


I'm such a geek.


Pran? If you're still online, get on AIM!

The riviting and never ending soap that is my odd daily life continues with an all new episode. This week, we find CCD pulling a typical bureaucratic move on LKP when they find to their horror, that the Shahish iron fist world they illusion themselves with does not apply to my business. They can't touch us. They can't rule us. They can't harrass us. They don't even know how to catagorize us. The only thing they can do to us is slap us upside the head with those little clipboards they hide behind, and boy, does that freak them out.


With a slightly befuddled and perturbed tone, they leave a message on my business line: "You might have to be licensed with us. Call us, and we'll talk about your options."


How about no?


Now, the professional side of me will call them, and will explain to them, in my very nice professional Jamie voice "there are no guidelines set forth by any goverment or private entity in the state of Oregon or in the United States that can govern, oversee, (or bully for that matter) my company. And although I find this a shame, because there are no benchmarks that can help form a good quality program, it also means that I don't have to be licensed by you."


In my head, however, it will be a totally different story, in my best screeching immature six year old voice, I'll be sticking out my tongue while pulling on my ears.

"I know the OSR back and forth, I can recite it backwards standing on my head in six feet of quicksand with rabid sloths eating my toes, and guess what? You can touch me, nanny nanny boo boo! What's that? Nope, I'm not liiiiistening. La la la la la la la. I don't have to talk to you and you can't come here an-ny-more! That just chaps your ass, dosen't it? Isn't Karama a bitch? Aw, don't cry. You'll find someone else to terrorize I'm sure. You have a nice day, now!"

I've had alot of questions why I haven't posted. There are alot of reasons. Personal things going on (most personal stuff does not go here, insted it goes in my journal at home. Personal stuff dosen't go here because small-brained people get upset when I talk about situations that are going on. Because some people can't respect my views as mine (and feel I have to be 'nice' all the time and not have any negitive views) and like to try and withold me of my opinion claiming rude things and take offense or cause problems. So it's easier to keep my private thoughts private. Plus, my life is boring.), and because I haven't had anything to say, and like I've said in the past, I write for me, not for people who view this blog. I appriciate that people come here and read this, but I don't, and never have, written for or to draw an audience.


So if there is nothing here, it means I've got nothing to say. People can be angry at me for that, but that's too bad, they can go make their own blog, and post to it if they want content.


Please don't bug me about this anymore, when I post is when I post and asking me won't make it any sooner.

Happy Birthday to Sean :)

I'm going to write them an E-mail, and ask them to call it "Just Crack".


Crammed full 3 oz plastic containers protect this delicate stuff from falling all over the dirty ground. It's sweet, it's tangy, it's crunchy and it's got the weirdest texture ever. It's sort of like when you ate that freeze dried astronaut ice cream during your sixth grade solar system unit.


It's "Just Fruit" and I'm in love.


Just one of the products made by "Just Tomatos, Ect", Just Fruit Munchies are a mix of freeze dried apples, rasins, blueberries, sour cherries, mango, pineapples and blueberries and they're a better buzz then that Meth addiction you shook last year.


Today, after being too broke to feed my habbit, I bought a container of it and saddingly I've almost consumed the whole thing. Not sad because I'm a bloody pig and should be forced to eat only 1974 Weight Watcher food and sweat on a tredmill, but sad because it's almost all gone.


It's good. Go try it yourself, you'll become a mindless addict too. But before you try it, and become so overwhelmed with greed that you'd rather prick out my eyeballs with a gleefully sharpened carrot from the produce department then share, buy me some more too.

Thanks to Kelly, for reaffirming my opinion that the American goverment is run by bå morons.


That was for you Kel, it's pronounced 'baw' and it means foolish. ;)

I have an unhealthy obsession with "Brown".


Although it may sound this way, this isn't a plea for a free one way ticket to a snazzy drug rehab program where I can hob with the stars. Nor do I like to dress up in frocks that resemble tree bark from around the world.


I'm talkin' about the UPS man, man.


Not the men themselves (although the disgusting seriously girly side of me enjoys that added bonus of cute guys in pants. Not in short shorts, there is something very wrong about a guy in short shorts.). It's not even the big roaring trucks (Machines just don't do it for me, unless they can render three seperate 3D models in under five minutes and run six other programs in the background.), it's the stuff.


Oh lord, my kingdom for a box.


The Gods are tempting me. Once again they're using me for their odd amusment. Over the past month I have seen not one, not two, but six unattended UPS (or Fed Ex, I don't discriminate) trucks. Left all alone on a corner or in a parking lot, side of the truck gaping open where the door should be, calling me to come inside and rip it off.


I'm sort of like a oversexed guy who's been locked in a dark closet with nothing but his hand for ten years and gets rescued by like minded nymphos fresh from the local gymnasium. Boxes. They butter my muffin. Crisp my cracker. Chew my gumball. Yeah, you get the point.


It's so very upsetting too, when the nasty cricket in my head kicks in and sings me out of causing a high speed police chase while littering the freeway with packing material.

As James so nicely pointed out, blogspot seems to have two ads at the top of it now. Hopefully that's an error somewhere, and not something new and fixed.

Spent my few free hours the last couple of days working on a blog layout. No, it wasn't mine. It was Prana's, I haven't had time to finish my new one yet. Kins mentioned that she wanted one, so as soon as I can pin her down I'll see what she wants. (Knowing my luck, something involving naked people doing naughty naked things.) Everybody gets one freebie (just as long as it's not involving a dumpster or a seedy hotel room) and then you've got to pay me. I'm cheap, but I'm not that cheap.


LKP now has it's first offical School Picture Day coming up. Fun for the kids, bad for the Jamie. I've been secretly creating a intricate paper bag mask to wear when they do the class picture. I'm trying to figure out a good story to convince everyone that I really was born wearing a paper bag, and since I've had it on my entire life, removing it would prove to be fatal for me. In fact, I don't even have a face anymore because the rough reycled paper has over the years molded to my head and become my face. I'm really Paper Bag Woman, Jamie is just my secret identity. With these fake no-lens glasses, I fooled them all.


Back me up on this, would you?

I slashed and hacked about 16 classes and workshops (well, cut 9, moved the rest to Summer Term) from March and about 10 from April. This is so very nice. It means I can have Thursdays off again. At least for now anyway.

What's so damn hard about just being honest with me?

I just had a totally long (but fun) workshop. This workshop was the only non-PDR workshop I have schedualed for the next three months (that I know of). Today, yours truly made a great big mess like the great big dorky kid I am, because today, I made soap. Soap soap soap! Whee!


Yep, I spent the last five hours with ten other people crammed in the kitchen of the H.O.M.E center, being dizzy from the essental oil fumes, making hand crafted hot-cast soap.


It was so kewl.


I've always wanted to make soap, but because of time and not really knowing how to go about it, I never did. April (the lady who ran the workshop) has her own soap making company, so it was really neat to see how quickly she could churn out ten pounds of soap without burning her hands down to the bone.

We made coconut oil lavender soap (with dried lavender and lavender oil in it, smells great, annoys the holy hell out of my hands..lol), and since it was the hot process we had to use lye (all soap is made using lye, that's how glycerine is made, so don't let anyone tell you any different. That dosen't mean all soap has lye in it. I'm going to ask her to do a cold soap class, because I'd like to be able to do soap with crap embedded in it) and lucky me, my hands are evil, and plot ways to pain me.

Since you're not supposed to touch the soap with bare skin for four weeks until the lye is completely gone, everything is done with rubber gloves or through a mold. My hands are so wicked that even through the soap mold (a tupperware container..lol) they got irritated. I've had to wash them in vinagar and they're still stinging. That's another reason I've stayed away from making soap (and candles too), my hands get so easily upset that it just makes it frustrating.


It has to cure for four weeks, so it can't be used until then (I can cut it tonight though) but I have enough for probably six small bars of soap. I can't use it because of my hands (it's too strong), but I am willing to pimp my love-a-lee smelling soap off on anyone who wants a bar (For the low, easy one time payment of nothing! That's right! Absolutely zilch, zip and nada. And if you act now, we'll throw in this free manila envelope!) when touching them won't give you a fun trip to the burn ward.

By the way, has anyone seen Melissa? I haven't for days. If you catch her online, tell her to stick around.


Edit: Nevermind, I found her. She was hiding under the bed again. Silly Mellie.

When little children grow into adults, do they finally develop good sense and shed their need to stuff parts of their feet into their mouth, no matter how dirty or smelly? Or can they just not bend their legs that way anymore?


Sadly, these are the kind of questions they don't answer in ECE classes.

When we last left yours truly, she was scrambling like rat on fire to finish her homework for her follow up meeting.


I got most of it done (save 11 pages) and our follow up people were late (30 minutes) which was ok but frustrating because there was a CORE class tonight. I'm not going though, so all is good.


So I thought.


The follow up goes peachy until the nice ladies tell me I'm missing not one (the 11 pages) but three assignments. Two of which I didn't even know about.


AAAAIIIIII.


Also not there was my extra hour work, which I did but so nicely forgot to print off, because I'm stupid like that.


So, they gave me all the hours (6, which was quite nice of them) with of a promise to send all the work into them Monday. Yay, more work.


So now, I have to finish up this work this weekend, do all the printing I can while borrowing this printer, fix my lovely Gram's weird phone problem (She has no dial tone on any line, but still has her DSL working. The phone company is spying again), clean her house and buy a new purse, I broke mine on the way to the follow up.


I'm sad, and would wear all black in mourning, but my purse was black and I'd just rather not have the bittersweet memories.

Once again my blog is refusing to update. Maybe it's a sign from the Almighty above.


The earth quakes with tremors and the clouds in the sky above part. A brilliant ray of holy sunlight breaks through and illuminates the keyboard through the window, and an angelic chorus sings unseen in the background.


Then, the land is silent and a deep booming voice is heard, causing unslightly goosepimples to cover all the flesh of the land and eyes to tear with its radiating love.


God: "Jamie! Get your damniable hands off that keyboard and stop flooding the internet with your useless mental garbage! Damn me! You are such a bother!"



Pathetic Whelp Named Jamie: Erm? God? Erm..But...but...


All That Is Devine: "NOW WOMAN! Don't make me come down there and do things of biblical preportions to your worthless human ass!"


Unworthy: Fine, fine. Geesh...God's these days, you think they created the world or something. Stu...::grumble grumble::


Mister Man Himself: "What was that?"


Me: Nothing...I didn't say anything. Sorry God. Won't happen again. Honest.


God: "That's what I thought."

I really do want to start college classes again, but between all the classes I'm already taking (PDR classes, which count to college credits but are not college classes.) and all the work I'm doing (All Hail The Queen Of Slaves!), and my lack of funding. I highly doubt I'll get to go until June.

And, no, I can't get a grant or a loan, I've been trying for years. I can't, it's a curse. The people at the loan department just slink around in their dark corners with weird white theatrical make-up on, waiting for my fat manila envelope to arrive. Then, when it does, they reach deep into the aquarium swimming to the brim with irregularly folded slips of paper (paper they've been cutting up and writing on since the last time they recieved a letter from me.) and they pluck one out with a cackle, choosing which deliciously cruel and outlandish denial I'll be receving in my mailbox this time. They don't even bother to open up my letter and read my pathetic and snivvling cries for money anymore, they just see it's got my return address on it and play a rousing round of Screw-A-Jamie. What's worse? It's not even the fun kinda screwin'.


Yes, this is pouting. Attractive iddnit?


So, until then, I'm stuck going to a million and a half seminars and workshops. These include the follow up workshop I have today, which has a good 20 pages of homework due for it. Joy. Due at 3:30. Double J-O-Y. Have I done any?


C'mon now, you've been reading my blog for how long? You should know me by now.


......Of course I haven't.


So, here I am, hanging out in someone elses cold house while they're out of town because their printer works (No, I didn't do a B&E, I've got a key. Woo..that rhymed. Graduate me now! I'm a goshdiddlydarn genius!), drawing a layout of a room while wondering where the overview for my philosophy paper went to. Oh, and talking to myself. I swear, if I didn't find it all so darn amusing, I'd be worried.


3 hours and 49 minutes to go.

It's almost time for a new layout (alright, no it isn't, but my disgusting need to make layouts is taking over again. I'd ask for help to slay it, but to tell you the truth, I sort of like my weird neurosis. Ah, so there.) and I've got a really good idea for a quick, functional, and fun one. Unfortunatly, my idea might offend a few people.


Oh, the choices.


It's just all so very sad.

When I'm being a good girl, which is very rare if you're wondering, I write every morning. Sometimes it's a few pages on a novel, sometimes it's just a short story, sometimes it's babble, most of the time it's crap, but I do write, and that's all that matters.


The majority of the time I do short stories (it's better to not force yourself to write on a project unless you've made time just for that, otherwise just let whatever's going to go, go) based on a starter sentance.


Yesterday, I mentioned it to Fred (who's an amazing writer), and he gave me a sentance to work from. He wrote a great little peice off of it (post it to your blog, man) and I wrote crap.


But that's ok.


Digital Spam which should open by the end of next week, is a writing site that I've been wanting to start for over a year now. I long for a writing group, but just haven't found one locally that I click with. Digital Spam will be an online writing group, we'll have resources, support, activities and lots of writing. It should be fun.


Until then however, I'm stuck doing starter sentance stories by myself. Want to do it too? Here's your sentance for today:


I was sure, I remembered quite a bit later, that it had somehow moved since the last time I saw it.