Every time I think of something witty to say during a conversation but fail to get it out before the topic of conversation changes, I become just a little more fond of threaded comments and just a hair less likely to strike up a conversation in real life… 

I’m pretty sure that I’m destined to be a hermit, thanks to the internet.

I don’t write on your Facebook wall so you can comment on what I’ve said. I write on your wall so you’ll reciprocate and make me seem more popular, damn it.

The day I saw the inventor of the “Snuggie” on a talk show explaining that he had become an overnight millionaire by slapping a pair of sleeves onto a blanket, I very seriously contemplated suicide.  Sometimes the “American dream” just seems like a cruel joke.

Do employers really need to ask if I know how to use Microsoft Word? Is there a high school graduate outside Amish country who doesn’t know how to use Word or - more to the point - stupid enough to admit such a ridiculous shortcoming during an interview?   Every time I’m asked about my Word skills in interview, it’s all I can do to not just stare silently at the typed resume in the interviewer’s hand to see how long it takes him to catch on.

Smartphones are the new cigarettes. They’re addictive.  They’re expensive.  They annoy the hell out of other people when you use them in public.  Plus, I’m pretty sure that, one day, we’re going to discover that they cause cancer.

Social media is a lot like teen sex.  Everyone is in a rush to try it. No one is sure what they’re doing going in. Once they’ve tried it, people are always surprised it wasn’t better. Worse, it frequently leads to embarrassment when your friends or family unintentionally discover what you’ve been up to with an ill-composed Google search.  

Still, it makes for some funny stories later in life.

Arguments between die-hard “conservatives” and die-hard “liberals” remind me of arguments between Star Wars geeks and Star Trek geeks, in that both involve people whole-heartedly invested in the merits of a universe not based in reality that bores the hell out of the mainstream.

Amazon suggests books I’d like. Pandora tells me what music I’d like. Netflix tells me what movies I’d like.  What the hell, grocery store?  Why is the one place I spend the most money each week not offering me any suggestions?

The toaster I use for two minutes each weekend has a removable crumb tray for convenient cleaning.  Meanwhile, the keyboard I sit at for ten hours each day requires a five dollar can of compressed air to clean, and the word “clean” is being used here very loosely.  A team of engineers needs to get on this A.S.A.P.

I ask Google all the questions I’m too embarrassed to ask other people. Google has officially played more of a role in my sex education than my school teachers, my parents, and my first three girlfriends combined.  I find that extremely frightening, because it’s not what you’d call “the normals” who write in-depth articles on exotically named sex positions.