It was just one errant grey wire poking through the brown, looking out of place — just one hair. But I was horrified.
Amoebas in sexy grass skirts will soon be doing the hula on TV commercials, calmly wagging their hips to quell our fear of microbes and hypnotize us into buying new and improved products squirming with life.
It doesn’t seem fair that the only fat that disappears with age is the fat no one could see in the first place.
There was no dress rehearsal for being single. Suddenly my co-pilot was gone and I was flying solo.
I want a pair of wired granny panties that come with earbuds to track my pulse, hormones, fluids and temperature. The earbuds would whisper messages like…
The things I buy call out to me with the lure of eternal coolness. Then I bring them home and forget about them.
I know I should fear an algorithm that doesn’t know the difference between rugs and shoes, but I’m addicted to eye candy.