Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Smart-y Pants Phone

That D-roid. I pretend to be cool enough to hang with him, and, like a lovesick teen, beg him to help me understand his evil machinations. D-roid (as I call him behind his ridiculously pumped-up back--come on, who needs all those muscles?--I just need to dial 911) simply couldn't care less. When he does bother to think of me at all, it's to devise some intricate ploy to mess with me.

I took a photo of my friend's son playing basketball, shared it with her along with a voice activated text message where I clearly stated: "He missed." I hit send, looked down and saw that D-roid did it to me again:


Saturday, January 15, 2011

Intergalactic Steven King of The Universe

Even though I have two left feet I am "Dancing With Myself" as the brilliance of the planet's most amazing genius eludes me...

Saturday, January 8, 2011

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Please Don't Say Anything...

I embrace the digital revolution. Honest. I love my kindle; we've been to third base. (Short story: Red wine, malted milkballs, not enough hands.) I discovered I also love my new Droid phone, even though it's just like a cat, thinking it's all superior, playing hard to get--doing nothing whatsoever to gain my affection. (But when it got sick, I was paralyzed with fear--life just wouldn't be the same without it.)
My husband doesn't know it yet, but I renewed our newspaper subscription. I imagine he's going to catch on pretty soon. I couldn't help it. It's just no fun sitting a mug of coffee on my laptop, or doodling on it with a sharpie. Wearing an iPad hat isn't the same, either. And the only window washing activity would come from Googling a service to do it. Hey, now...