It’s probably going to rain today. I just watered my lawn.
Not that you could tell, of course.
This is not a bill. This is also not an airplane or a cupcake.
This is an explanation of benefits (EOB) from your health insurance company (HIC) concerning the services that were provided by your health care provider (YHCP) on or about two weeks ago from last Thursday (LTH) at about 3:30 p.m. or maybe a little later if it’s that important to you.
There are, of course, two kinds of people in the world: those who divide the world into two kinds of people and those who don’t.
It was a beautiful, warm, gloriously sunny late spring day.
This past Thursday, my wife and I celebrated our 44th wedding anniversary, which is, technically, impossible, since I’m pretty sure I’m only about 43 years old.
As she leaves for work every morning, my wife recites a mnemonic device that helps remind her that she is leaving for work.
Let me reiterate and make this perfectly clear: I have no intention, currently, at this moment, as of early this morning, right now, of running for president in 2016.
However, as I state in my currently available new book, “Running for President in 2016,” circumstances can change.
A little more than a year ago, I packed up all my cares and woes, along with my curated collection of old take-out menus from restaurants that no longer existed, emptied my desk, refused to sharpen any more pencils, left my office and retired from my job.
First, the good news. The other weekend, I ran a 5K race and I did not end up in the emergency room. In fact, I finished second in my age group.
The bad news is that I’m not sure there were more than two people in my age group.
And to make it worse, the other guy in my age group just managed to edge me out by a hair — or more precisely, by 17 minutes.
Dear soon-to-be college graduates,
Thank you for selecting me as your commencement speaker this year once you found out that you couldn’t get Miley Cyrus.
I know you have asked me here because you believed I could offer all of you some pertinent advice about life, since I have been living for some time.
In three-quarters of a mile, take the ramp heading west, if you can figure out which direction west is. But of course, if you could, you wouldn’t need a GPS in the first place, would you?
In 1,000 feet — that’s about 330 yards give or take, if you prefer smaller numbers or have irregular feet — move over into the right lane just past that gigantic semi tractor-trailer that’s bearing down on you and doesn’t look like it’s going to slow down at all.
On our wine list this evening, you’ll find several stains and a few grease marks, along with:
A 2007 Slovakian gamay or gamay not, with hints of goat cheese and leftover macaroni, and a finish full of crabapple and a satisfying aroma of drying cement. Great paired with the last Peppermint Pattie in the bag.
Final check before filing:
Begin by adding line 18 — number of people you run into whose names you can’t remember — to line 14, number of times you try to avoid saying their names during a conversation.
Add lines 23 through 35 and try doing it without a calculator if you start to get cocky.
The other day, I turned on my television and there was nothing there. And I don’t mean that it was only showing the usual re-runs of “Survivor: The Golden Girls Edition.”
When the moon is in the seventh house and Jupiter collides with Mars, it leaves a big mess, usually just the day after the cleaning people have come. And it generally means it’s time to check your newspaper horoscope.
(In case you’re wondering, or you now get all your news from friends on Facebook and have never heard of Crimea, the horoscope usually can be found in the newspaper right next to the bmujel, or jumble. That in turn is right next to the Sudoku, which is the Crimean term for kale chips.)