Alright, listen. It's time we had a serious discussion about some real issues plaguing this here setting. Something fetid and vile that has seeped down through the cracks of the foundation and is threatening to slowly drip onto that bag of Xanax you had secretly stashed in a hidden compartment there, ruining it forever and setting in motion a series of events that will end with at least half- if not all!- of Torn embarking on a full-scale frenzy of panic, confusion and spontaneous Flash Mob dancing to Katie Perry songs.
You may think you're safe from this looming threat, holed up in your private island with your fancy jets, sous chef and legion of maids but I warn you: You... probably are... you rich and privileged individual. But therein lies the reason for this madness:
I can't find me not-a-none-one person that I can extort into entering a partnership in which the costs of renting (and eventually owning) one of those Private Islands that are susupiciously abundant in Torn City ( Seriously... where the heck is this fabled archipelago that is plagued with islands containing vacant mansions and air strips- SHOW ME PROOF! RELEASE THE E-MAILS!) would be diminished by sharing such costs and thereby making them more profitable!
Never not no one, didn't about no reason, not never and by L. Ron Hubbard I'm never not ain't gonna will!
Why has this task been like a hellishly difficult and almost impossible Duke Mission? Is it because I carry around a chainsaw, bandoleers of flash grenades, an assault rifle, a trench coat made of kevlar and a sassy bikers helmet? Because, I assure you, if you peel back all the layers of my ridiculous combat ensemble you will see that I am also armed with a handgun, a rusty machete and some Star Wars boxers and I will burn down a village at a moment's notice if it got me a Large Suitcase!
With all that being said, all I want for Mother's day is a wife- I don't care if you're a real female, male playing dress-up, spam mail, a duck or a plain ham sammich on stale sourdough bread. I just want someone that I can trust with throwing in half the cost of renting a PI, detests M. Night Shyamalan with a burning hot passion, can solve a rubix cube in under 30 seconds while blindfolded on a horse carriage teetering down a cliff using only one hand, and does not have any pre-existing conditions because that isn't going to be covered anymore soon.
So, extremely noob question, I have NO idea how to make that function work in excel. Once I copy it and save it as a new script on the document, do I just type the =getPrice(ItemID,APIKEY) function in a cell and presto? Do I need to smack my API in there anywhere?
Alright, listen. It's time we had a serious discussion about some real issues plaguing this here setting. Something fetid and vile that has seeped down through the cracks of the foundation and is threatening to slowly drip onto that bag of Xanax you had secretly stashed in a hidden compartment there, ruining it forever and setting in motion a series of events that will end with at least half- if not all!- of Torn embarking on a full-scale frenzy of panic, confusion and spontaneous Flash Mob dancing to Katie Perry songs.
You may think you're safe from this looming threat, holed up in your private island with your fancy jets, sous chef and legion of maids but I warn you: You... probably are... you rich and privileged individual. But therein lies the reason for this madness:
I can't find me not-a-none-one person that I can extort into entering a partnership in which the costs of renting (and eventually owning) one of those Private Islands that are susupiciously abundant in Torn City ( Seriously... where the heck is this fabled archipelago that is plagued with islands containing vacant mansions and air strips- SHOW ME PROOF! RELEASE THE E-MAILS!) would be diminished by sharing such costs and thereby making them more profitable!
Never not no one, didn't about no reason, not never and by L. Ron Hubbard I'm never not ain't gonna will!
Why has this task been like a hellishly difficult and almost impossible Duke Mission? Is it because I carry around a chainsaw, bandoleers of flash grenades, an assault rifle, a trench coat made of kevlar and a sassy bikers helmet? Because, I assure you, if you peel back all the layers of my ridiculous combat ensemble you will see that I am also armed with a handgun, a rusty machete and some Star Wars boxers and I will burn down a village at a moment's notice if it got me a Large Suitcase!
With all that being said, all I want for Mother's day is a wife- I don't care if you're a real female, male playing dress-up, spam mail, a duck or a plain ham sammich on stale sourdough bread. I just want someone that I can trust with throwing in half the cost of renting a PI, detests M. Night Shyamalan with a burning hot passion, can solve a rubix cube in under 30 seconds while blindfolded on a horse carriage teetering down a cliff using only one hand, and does not have any pre-existing conditions because that isn't going to be covered anymore soon.