Baby Got BackSir Mix-a-Lotshoofle: "Oh, my, blog, becky, look at her SIDEBAR."shoofle: "it's just so rounded corners and out there"shoofle: (- Glench)cow: i like big templates.khmer: and i cannot lie, you web designers can't denykhmer: that when a page renders well in xhtml and it validates as well youget sprungkhmer: and you think about feeds cause you know machines could readkhmer: deep in semantic codingkhmer: other brothers' pages are still loadingkhmer: oh, blogger, i make your layouts funkykhmer: with my greasemonkeykhmer: JS console tries to warn me, but that DOM you got makeskhmer: muh-muh-muh-muh-muh-muh-muhkhmer: Firefox has encountered a problem and needs to close.khmer: baby got hacked!
Poor old Johnny Ray
Sounded sad upon the radio, he moved a million hearts in mono.
Our mothers cried and sang along and who'd blame them.
Now you're grown, so grown, now I must say more than ever.
Go Toora Loora Toora Loo-Rye-Aye
and we can sing just like our fathers.
Come on thighleen,
I swear (well he means) At this moment you mean everything,
With you in that dress my thoughts I confess verge on dirty
Ah come on thighleen.
These people round here wear beaten down eyes
Sunk in smoke dried faces they're so resigned to what their fate is,
But not us, no not us we are far too young and clever.
Remember Toora Loora Toora Loo-Rye-Aye
thighleen I'll hum this tune forever.
Come on thighleen, I swear, well he means
Ah come on let's take off everything,
That pretty red dress thighleen (Tell him yes)
Ah come on let's, ah come on thighleen, please.