The screen on the new MacBook Pro is so fucking bright, it confounds its inbuilt “ambient” light sensor.
The next time I make a shopping list, I think I need to order items based on their proximity to each other in the store, not just randomly.
Anyone else find it funny that Obama pronounces “Pakistan” correctly but enunciates “Afghanistan” like an American?
Someone just told me she’s choosing the more expensive item because the savings on it are greater. Marketers rejoice!
I think the easiest solution to holding onto my most insightful and humorous thoughts is to install a whiteboard in my shower.
If women can have a range of underwear for different purposes, so can I.
With the execution of Mr. Gaeta in this week’s episode of Battlestar Galactica, is there any reason to watch the show anymore?
I live in a 2 x 2 square room with a washing machine in the corner and I still manage to lose a sock or two every laundry day.
Her cookies were delicious…
and so was she. For she’s a real life pastry chef you see—the cutest one there ever be. Perky, vibrant and giggling with glee, it’s not surprising everyone was her arrestee. Why then did she gaze into me—melancholic, morose and moody me?
I don’t think I’ll ever know, nor do I care if I do, but I am glad that she did. It was a magical couple of weeks and I wish she didn’t have to return to the States.
I nearly burnt my power adapter’s wire on the stove. How it got there is not a particularly amusing story.
If I had my home-studio set up by now, I’d surely have requested her to model for me. That, and if I had the nerve.
I couldn’t help but gawk at the most perfect face I’ve ever seen on my way home from work.
You know your nails have grown a little too long when they begin to impede your typing.
I haven’t once needed to turn on the heat in my apartment this winter season. Will the wonders of modern insulation technology ever cease?