New York’s finest

Observed outside Pick-a-Bagel on 57th and 6th, Manhattan, 9:01 a.m.

The players: A middle-aged woman, nicely dressed and in good spirits, and her companion (probably her husband), talking to two uniformed policemen.

The woman seemed pleased with herself and the cops, which was striking, considering most people talking to the police are in a state of distress.

One of the policemen spoke into his two-way radio:

“Request location: N-B-C Studios.”

How I’m feeling

An approximation:

A man goes to his psychiatrist and says, “Doc, I keep having these alternating recurring dreams. First I’m a teepee; then I’m a wigwam; then I’m a teepee; then I’m a wigwam. It’s driving me crazy. What’s wrong with me?”

The doctor replies, “The first thing is to relax. You’re two tents.”

* cue laugh track through wince *

Big PEBKAC

Sometimes it’s the computer. Usually it’s just me.

The instructions for my way cool new Wacom Intuos 2 installer read, “Before installation, plug your tablet into an available USB port in the back of your computer.”

Laptop: USB 1, keyboard; USB 2, mouse. I yanked out the keyboard jack, so I could keep roving the screen, and plugged in the tablet. The red light went on as expected.

The instructions continued: “You should not have any other programs running when you install the drivers for the tablet. Quit all open applications before continuing.”

It was several minutes after I clicked into Internet Explorer that I finally figured out why apple-Q! APPLE-Q! wasn’t doing anything.

I’m an ambidextrous mouse user, too

All I need is some marshmallow fluff. …

Fun computer-user desk trick: Leave a small bar of chocolate, wrapped, directly in front of the exhaust fan on your computer. After a while, the chocolate will melt, and you can dip your Animal Crackers into the goo that was once a candy bar. Voila! Office s’mores.

I assume this works equally well when done on purpose.

City savvy

They learn ’em early these days.

Seen and overheard on the crosstown M86 articulated bus: A mother, early 30s, and her son, around five years old, sitting in seats halfway back, where the bus articulates.

The bus pulls over at Second Avenue.

Mother: Okay, this is our stop, time to get off.

Son: We go out the back, right?

Mother: Yes, we do.

Son: Because the back door is closer.

Mother: Right.

They proceed to the rear exit, which is closed. Instinctively the five-year-old bellows, “Back door!” to the driver up front.

Mother and son disembark to the amusement of their fellow passengers.