Dear Technology Expats, Sorry, make that Experts. ... I have a zone to stick with you. Actually, what I mean is I ve a bone to lick with you. No, pick. Yes, pick. ... It’s about auto-correct, the program that thinks it knows better than I do what I’m trying to wipe. ... mean write.
I knew I was in trouble the moment I saw how “easy” it was supposed to be to do this. I knew there would be 19 difficult steps as soon as I found out that there were “only 4 simple steps.” I knew there was no way I could do it as soon as I read that “anyone can do it.” Still, I figured I had to try to fix the toilet.
You’ve probably been wondering what distinguishes me from the other 56 announced candidates for the presidency.
Recently, my wife and I celebrated a numerically significant wedding anniversary. It was numerically significant because to reach that anniversary number I figured I must have gotten married at the age of seven (My wife points out that she was five.)
An update is currently available for one of your intricate pieces of technology. This update will enable you to make improvements to usability, security and laundry sorting. Would you like to download it now? Or would you rather be left further behind and continue to be the laughing stock of most middle school kids?
Let’s take a look at the wine list, which has hints of papyrus and an ethereal bouquet of late-harvest No. 2 pencil. But first, let us explain our wine philosophy and why one bottle will cost you more than next month’s mortgage.
This is a cautionary tale. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket, particularly if the eggs are digitally dependent and the basket comes with a multi-language instruction manual (also, don’t do it if you have high cholesterol and your cardiologist has told you to cut down on egg baskets, but that’s a cautionary tale only for those who know how to spell angioplasty).
At 7:30 a.m. precisely, my daughter Nora and I began The Great Saunter, the 32-mile circumnavigation of the island of Manhattan. Why did we do it? Well, of course — because it was there.
Please stop texting. Thank you, and let me now be among the first to congratulate you for the tremendous accomplishment of completing your college education and for the even greater accomplishment of not staring at your phone while I offer your commencement address.
In 1974, after four months of watering, 13 pounds of compost and regularly scheduled pitiful pleading, I began my vegetable gardening career by growing the smallest recorded radish in the western hemisphere.
My final preparations for The Great Saunter, my epic 32-mile walk around Manhattan island, which I agreed to do because I actually thought I was agreeing to The Great Flaunter, an event in which I could flaunt my knowledge of old Alfred Hitchcock movies:
After close consultation with my family, my advisers and the magic eight-ball, I have decided to place my hat in the ring for the presidency of the United States.
Begin with Line 7 (As everyone knows, Lines 1 through 6 are only for chumps) — Enter wages, salaries, tips, coins found in bottom of vending machines and the $5.02 check you just got for being a member of a class action lawsuit that you had no idea you were a member of. Attach Forms W2, 1099, 1099 E, 1099 R and W3 EZ, which isn’t.
My Frye boots, big, bulky and battered, the oldest living household survivor of the 1960s, passed away peacefully April 2, 2015 after a long period of increasing obsolescence and occasional embarrassment when I tried to put them on.
The Neil Offen Column yesterday posted strong first quarter results that breezed past Wall Street’s extremely low expectations and even surprised some family members who haven’t laughed in months. In a conference call with analysts, Neil Offen Column CEO Neil Offen, citing those results, told Wall Street, “nana nana boo boo and so’s your old man.”