My sister just sent me an email asking me to sort a spreadsheet for her. Numerical descending order on one column. Nothing flashy.
I don't get it.
'Bushwhacked'
Off-topic discussion. Wanna talk about corsets, duct tape, or physics? This is the place. Detailed discussion of any current-season TV must be whitefonted.
My sister just sent me an email asking me to sort a spreadsheet for her. Numerical descending order on one column. Nothing flashy.
I don't get it.
It's like that old expression: "Give a sister a sorted spreadsheet and she'll be grateful. Give a sister instructions on how to sort a spreadsheet and you'll spend more time writing out the instructions and she won't nearly be as grateful."
I don't get it.
Maybe she's laughing at the stuff she can make you do? Oh, right - that would be *my* sisters.
Nanny taxes, oi. Not that our nanny doesn't earn every penny, but it's a shock to the checking account.
Precisely that, Theo. How do you get a PhD in Anthropology with all the accompanying stats work that I know she's done and not know how to sort a spreadsheet?
If she asks me how to connect her iPod to her wireless network, or how to install apps on it, I won't be surprised. That's new to her. But she's been using Excel almost as long as I have. But for what?
It's like that old expression: "Give a sister a sorted spreadsheet and she'll be grateful. Give a sister instructions on how to sort a spreadsheet and you'll spend more time writing out the instructions and she won't nearly be as grateful."
Theo, hilarious.
So I think Oz may have eaten a small bit of ribbon. I gave him some ice cream, thinking his lactose intolerant self would throw the ice cream and ribbon back up. Is he throwing up? NO. He squawking for more ice cream.
Complete hatchet job of Mahatma Gandhi. I kinda wish I hadn't read it.
The NYT review of the same book wasn't nearly as bad. A lot of that, I think, is the reviewer's own projections.
I don't think people should be mean about Gandhi. I also don't think he should have erections. I don't care to be rational on that front.
Hot stockings.
Huh. It turns out that for me, stockings, like tattoos, shouldn't have words in them.