Son is home for the summer from college. He’s been here less than 24 hours. He doesn’t just arrive, he explodes as he comes in the door. Below are just 2 of the previously tidy spaces his valuable possessions have invaded.
I went to Costco last week and stocked up, in anticipation of His Hungriness. He enthusiastically surveyed the larder and said, “So, how long did you want this food to last?”
Right now, I’m annoyed and scared for my bank account. I’ll need to re-read this when the house is too quiet in September.
I encountered this guy on my afternoon stroll. He seemed to emit that “good tired” vibe from a very busy morning but also the satisfaction of a job well done.
Is artificial intelligence doing the attacking or is it preventing attacks?
My flight was delayed, so I had time to ponder this statement. Either way I read it, I found it unsettling.
The finer print below clarified that it was AI that could save the cyber world, which I suppose is a relief.
And isn’t the guy pictured a doppelganger for Jeff Goldblum?
Now for something truly unsettling…I was about to post this last night last night when my computer crashed. Coincidence???
I purchased several boxes of the above excuse-for-cookies. Disguised as decadent treats, they are outstanding only in their mediocrity.
But, they were on sale.
Oldest son was visiting and was overcome with an immediate need for something sweet. These quasi-treats were the best I could offer.
I was trying to convince my son that these were delicious and oh-so healthy. I was looking at the nutrition label when I noticed something odd.
Servings Per Container about 12.
I did a quick survey of my pantry to confirm that boxes with discrete pieces had exact serving sizes. In contrast, my boxes of cereal had approximations.
My son’s explanation was that if a box only contained 10 or 11 cookies, the company couldn’t be sued because they honestly indicated there were only “about 12” in the box.
Lazy quality control? No copy editors available to proof the info printed on the box?
Another one of life’s mysteries.
A friend and I went out to grab a bite last night. The waiter earnestly described one of the specials as: Grass fed beef burger topped with cheese and vegetarian chili on a homemade bun.
Good thing I’m an omnivore.
I have learned, through sad experience, that in a contest between my bladder and bronchitis, bronchitis inevitably wins.
While perusing a bulletin board of babies, I was struck by the lack of “classic” names. Not a Susan or Tommy in the bunch. Instead, I found the following:
But the one I felt the most sorry for was this little guy:
May he be blessed with a thick skin.