It’s pouring rain and I have an umbrella in the car but I have to get out to open it.
It’s pouring rain and I have an umbrella — in the trunk of the car.
I lose one end of the string to my pajamas somewhere in the tunnel.
I can’t, for the life of me, open something where it says, “OPEN HERE.”
I stand in line at the supermarket behind someone I didn’t know was going to pay by check.
The person I call has an answering machine with a cute message that’s too long or one that says, “We can’t come to the phone right now”... as if they were really home.
A television news broadcast teases tomorrow’s show by telling me about a story that will be on. If they know the story today it won’t be news tomorrow; it will be history.
I forget my watch.
People at the movies take the aisle seats, even though they came early and are the only ones in the row.
A driver pulls into a parking space that would hold three cars and parks so badly that he takes up two spaces.
Every year, the newspapers run elaborate barbecue recipes for summer picnics. I only barbecue once a year and I keep things simple. Nothing fancy — just hamburgers and hotdogs.
Liberals take the liberal position on everything and conservatives take the conservative position on everything.
The controls in the shower of my hotel room are smarter than I am, and I either freeze or burn.
Football players who showboat after scoring a touchdown or sacking the quarterback.
Columnists with whose political convictions I disagree.