This is a comment on my friend’s status update, which I posted on here earlier.
What is wrong with these people?
This is a comment on my friend’s status update, which I posted on here earlier.
What is wrong with these people?
I was chatting with my friend, and she typed “colourful.” I accidentally corrected her, because I’m American and I spell it “colorful.” My brain automatically decided to type out a correction.
She then said this:
all these years typing colour…[the computers] erase it and turn it into color
My sister got a computer monitor recently, and asked me how she could get the extended desktop setup I have with my laptop.
This morning, for some odd reason, I strolled into my dad’s room and said, “Who wants a wedgie?”
He said, “OK!” and gave me one, front and back. It was painful. I am male.
I relearned what happens when you mess with your dad. Woohoo.
One day, I was sitting on the couch with my dad. He has one of these:

My dad's computer mouse, photo from Logitech.com
Anyway, a while ago, we had about three or four of these things, one of which was mine. My dad noticed that I didn’t use one anymore, and so followed the exchange of words below (or something close to it, because I don’t remember the exact words). Keep in mind that my dad was using his computer.
Hey kids! You know what the worst part of Noah’s Ark was for me, and will be for you if you decide to go and stay the night too?
The breakfast buffet.
My dad and I woke up and found ourselves still at Noah’s Ark. My mom and sister were still sleeping, but I was hungry, so we decided to grab some breakfast. When we dragged ourselves over to the elevator, and got down to the restaurant’s floor, we discovered how badly my dear father had been ripped off. (I say “my dear father”, because I didn’t pay. HAHA!)
At Noah’s Ark, breakfast is from 8-10AM, and it consists of wet scrambled eggs (classical Hong Kong-style), cardboard bacon, noodles, coffee, tea, and toast. I can’t describe what the noodles were like, because they looked disgusting at first glance already, so we didn’t touch them. The coffee was bad, according to my dad, and he got some tea instead. The tea sucked too. Poor dad.
About the toast, I think I should just quote my dad: “You can’t eff up toast, right?”
Luckily, we beat a church group to breakfast, so we didn’t have to fight with them over the small selection of items. I spotted several members of the group with mountains of the noodles and bacon on their plates, and wished them good luck. During their mealtime prayers, my dad whispered in my ear, “They’re saying, dear god, help me get through this meal.”
Everyone on WordPress.com wants to be Freshly Pressed. It’s all about the page views, right? Well, as much as I’d like to be on the front page of WordPress.com, a website with more hits than the number of people at every McDonalds in the world combined, I really shouldn’t be on there. My blog sucks. My writing sucks. I suck.So without further ado, (wait…that line is overused. Darn it! Now I certainly won’t get Freshly Pressed!) let’s start with my list.
It’s obvious I ran out of ideas to put down at number 6, but it’s because I really, really, really want to get those readers from Freshly Pressed.
Disney lied to me. Dreams don’t come true.(But WordPress, if you want to make my day and prove Disney right, go ahead…)