WordPress – cheese movers
Just when I was getting used to the new shittyness of the WordPress block editor – they fucked up the scheduler.
Face it, no matter how great it can be, technology sucks.
Just when I was getting used to the new shittyness of the WordPress block editor – they fucked up the scheduler.
I got a new iPhone with face recognition. Now my Twitter feed is fucking with me.
I’ll bet you didn’t know, but I’m a fucking hero. I’m saving the ocean with every stupid search on the Google I make.
PayPal is no friend of mine. I’ve been banned. I “knew too much.”
I sometimes worry about my mental health. I’m lying in bed and I get these manic ideas of social research about spatial awareness or even how to save the world. You know bullshit theories.
This is a good one.
Email: Subject Line: [My favorite password]
Holy fucking shit, I’ve been hacked.
I always wanted to be a sailor — owning my own little boat.
The Bear would never let me.
The Bear was so fucking proud of the “campaign” she created for her 6th grade class using “Recycle Michael,” a tin-man like character made from “recyclables.”
…I don’t have the heart to tell her that recycling is bullshit.
No means no goddamnit. But not at Apple.
Please stop trying to expand my mind. Maybe it’s just me, but every where I turn people are talking about psychedelics like I’m doing something wrong because I haven’t tripped balls with a Peruvian Guru.
Shaman, sorry, Peruvian fucking shaman.
George Orwell got it slightly wrong. Big Brother is not a totalitarian political dictator, he’s the tech nerd trying to “make your life better.”
We know Facebook and Google make their money selling data about us. There’s billions in knowing who you are, who you know, what you do and where you go.
The surgeon looked at me with the kind of disgust one saves for making sure the cockroach is dead before you throw it in the trash.
“What do you mean it still hurts?” he said. “You had a leaf tear and I smoothed it all out.”
Most of us spend way too much time worrying about it, But at it’s root, money is bullshit.
One of the fucked-up things about playing recreational tennis is away matches.
You have to drive to some other part of town and play on strange courts. And worse, we can’t just walk to the Third World bar to enjoy some popcorn and beer with the resident mice — we are forced to pick a different bar.
Waiting for my slot to get my knee surgery, the surgeon was killing time and hung out at my bedside for a while.
By Pam R.
Pieces of life and the love of family mixed with the passion to ride
Los Angeles Freelance Writer • Comedian • Photographer •
Comedy essays and articles
Like Mother Teresa, only better.
Riding the South Coast of Massachusetts and Rhode Island
cycling less than i plan
Author of suspense novels Sketch, Justice For Belle, Search For Maylee, Aggravated Momentum, and a medley of short stories.
"Nothing that happens to a writer -- however happy, however tragic -- is ever wasted." ~ P.D. James
notes of the desperate man
The Dude Abides. I'm A Dude AbiKes. I wonder as I wander around Austin on a bicycle.
All kinds of ideas and thoughts
A Funny Blog
It's My Blog and I Can Cry If I Want To.....
"We make bitter better."
Incoherent ranting & cries from the edge of sanity, mostly.
"This blog is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get." - F.G.
If you aren't living on the edge, you're taking up too much space
Where smartasses chase unicorns
News and views from nowhere in particular, somewhere in Texas
A place for grumpy old men- ladies and the young are welcome if they feel they are up to it.
My life as a cautionary tale.
Informative, invigorating, sometimes even entertaining ... Your comments are encouraged here!
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