Quote du jour: In true education, anything that comes to our hand is as good as a book: the prank of a page- boy, the blunder of a servant, a bit of table talk - they are all part of the curriculum.
- Michel de Montaigne
How are you? No, don't answer that, it's what's know as a rhetorical friggin' question already. I know how you're doing. You've been telling me repeatedly.
Look body, enough of the polite talk. Shut the Frapp up already. I don't want to hear about how you feel. For the record, I think you're being totally unreasonable and I don't want to spend any more hours of my life pandering to your continual need to whine and complain when I ask you to do the least little thing. It was unattractive enough when you were a whiny teenager. You're middle-aged, for pete's sake, it's time to at least pretend you're an adult.
Here's the deal:
1. I give you free access to your dream man, Mr. Ice Pack, 20 minutes at a time, several times a day. You have to maintain certain decencies and keep a cloth between you and Mr. Ice Pack at all times. No, really.
2. Mr. Advil will only visit you for the maximum amount allowed on the label. That's it. Trust me, he's just not that into you. Limited visits.
3. You can rest all you want, so long as the boss doesn't fire us. Free rides to and from work, no unnecessary exertion, all the TV you want to watch. Hey, I'll even let you read, so long as you don't need to hold big heavy books.
4. Internet access. Ah, I thought we would reach a snag. Here's the deal. You are NOT allowed to use the laptop. It is not ergonomically friendly and right now that matters. You can only use the poky old dinosaur-era desktop that's buried beneath all those bills in the office. (Remember those bills? You might want to look at them sometime. Before you start getting nasty phone calls from creditors.)
Exercise du jour: Stretching. Every couple of hours. Arms and legs. No, I don't care what the cow-orkers think.