Your opening line is, “So what’s your home page address?”
Your best friend is someone you’ve never met.
You see a beautiful sunset, and you half expect to see “Enhanced for Internet Explorer 9” on one of the clouds.
You are overcome with disbelief, anger and finally depressed when you encounter a Web page with no links.
You feel driven to consult the “Cool Page of the Day” on your wedding day.
You are driving on a dark and rainy night when you hydroplane on puddle, sending your car careening toward the flimsy guard rail that separates you from the precipice of a rocky cliff and certain death. You look for the “Back” button.
You visit “The Really Big Button that Doesn’t Do Anything” again and again and again.
Your dog has his own Web page.
So does your hamster.
When you read a magazine, you have an irresistible urge to click on the underlined passages.