“I’m giving you cancer, Mike. <3 Your Phone.”
Thanks for calling. This has been a good talk.
Thank you, drive through.
Thanks Apple for the headset/head phones combo. Lessthanthree.
Does the phrase “can possibly” bother anyone else?
Intermittent bursts of gas from my butt can possibly cause olfactory discomfort.
Is “can possibly” a phrase equivalent to “may”? “May” is a slippery slope of a word.
“May” is also a slippery slope of a month.
Intermittent burst of gas from Deron’s butt can possibly, maybe, perhaps cause olfactory discomfort to those wearing military grade gas masks.
Mike, I’m thinking you’ve stumbled on to something. The “I’m giving you cancer” could be the new fart noise app.
For $.99 your phone will randomly give you updates about its attempts to kill you.
I will actually make that.
Ways your iPhone might try to kill you:
2. Send text message alerts with the GPS indicates you might be driving.
3. Send you Groupons for all you can drink Whiskey nights.
4. Alter driving directions into hazards, “turn left onto pier. Accelerate.”
#4 made me spew diet lemonade
GPS devices are always trying to kill me with trick instructions. But I am too clever.
Also, as Danny and Ricky can tell you, I am one of those obnoxious back-seat drivers who is forever spouting directions contrary to what the GPS android says.
Once I was driving a friend somewhere only she’d been and she was trying to give directions. As I’m driving down an unfamiliar road from the back seat she, very calmly, says, “turn left back there.”
Related to #4. In Alameda, Grand Street terminates at a boat ramp into the estuary. One night a woman was apparently lost and it was dark and she drove right down the boat ramp into the water. I think her family is suing the city for not having proper barriers to prevent accidentally driving into the water.
Oh Sheila, not obnoxious. Between the GPS (ours is a guy), Danny, you, the rain and being in unfamiliar climes in an unfamiliar vehicle going 60 mph on six (there might have been only four) lanes with construction. My head was too full. I hope there was no offense taken, by my silence to your well-meant advice, I meant none. I was concentrating.
When I know generally where I am and where I’m going, I’ll follow my prodigious nose. (This was not the case on our return to Dallas from heaven.)
I’d happily join you one-of-these-days in Dallas and follow your nose on a personal tour. (It would be even better for me, if you drive.)
Comments are closed.