In the basement laid a plethora of trendy food prep devices, now gathering dust. Some we purchased ourselves, others were gifts. All had two common denominators: An electrical plug and a history of disappointment.
When asked how things were left with the Prime Minister after the night in question the Pig told us: "Me and big D stayed friends for a while, but we just drifted apart. It's sad, but, well, I guess it happens."
I sat on the couch as my daughter nervously glanced at a single sheet of notebook paper while struggling to maintain eye contact with me. A tiny bead of sweat danced across her brow, refusing to disappear.
So I guess it's time for me to send a few questions and suggestions Bezos' way. Maybe it will improve his reputation and force the New York Times to eat its words. I'll send them from my Gmail account proving my intentions to be friends with Bezos.
We never bother to Google "Can you really delete a text message forever?" If we did, we'd discover a treasure trove of procedures for retrieving stuff we wish could vanish; some of those methods even include helpful YouTube videos to aid the technologically challenged.