One of the prescriptions I take every evening after dinner tastes like a Flintstones vitamin. I used to take those as a kid -- who didn't, right? Can’t say I’ve ever tasted anything like it since, until now.
I always chuckle when grown men chant “Hey batter, batter. Hey batter, batter, swing!” when they attend professional baseball games. Maybe the game really does bring out the little boy in all of us us.
Why do screens on smart phones keep getting smaller when we depend on them more than ever to look up facts on the Internet and to answer email?
It seems like all business people have a set way they prefer being contacted. Some prefer the phone, some prefer email. And a few prefer text messaging. If you violate their preference, regardless of your preference, they aren’t as efficient. Put me in the email category.
On the television show One Tree Hill, a 7-year-old boy named Jamie said this to a movie producer on the most recent episode: “You made a movie with no animation, no stunts, no cars ... , no aliens and no robots. What the heck else is there?” The movie producer gave the boy an answer he didn't want to hear: “Romance.”
I woke up this morning and glanced over at my clock radio. The time said 17:L7. It sent my groggy mind into mental gymnastics. Was I on another planet? Was my vision blurry? When did “L” become part of the time equation? As you might imagine, it turns out that my clock radio is broken.
Microwaves and EasyMac (macaroni that comes in a little bowl and can be nuked once you add a little water) are a match made in single guy heaven.
If you've been on Twitter for any length of time, you’ve seen games people play using hashtags (#). I've been wanting to start a game called #thingschandlerbingmightsaytoday. My first tweet would be, “Could there BE any more spammers on Twitter?”
