Because I care:
Ergonomics, in these days of working at home.
Adjust your chair so your elbows are at a 90 degree angle.
The most important part: keep your wrists relatively straight. As soon as you start to bend them up or down too much to use the keyboard, you're setting yourself up for trouble - pain or Repetitive Stress Injury, like carpal tunnel. Take short breaks. Try to get some sex (this applies when you're not working or not at the keyboard too).
Your love is like when Vito breaks your legs
I just got an email from my House rep, asking how she's doing.
I thought she took me off her email list, for fear of my responses.
I disagree with many on politics - it's no surprise or alarm.
This lady, however.... we disagree on every thing she says. It's astounding. I try to like at least one thing she does, but it hurts too much. Usually there's something to like about everyone, but this person... let me try to be positive: she's not at all unattractive.
Dear lefty:
- How do I snag a Playboy Playmate for a girlfriend?
- Be incredibly wealthy and carry a puppy.
Didja learn anything in the sexual harassment training?
Yeah, I picked up a few good how-to's.
Bob goes to sexual harassment training after getting hired at Bra-CO.
The instructor gave a scenario and said there would be questions after:
Instructor Ted supervises Bill. They're having lunch in the cafeteria.
Bill sees a woman walking by, looking lost. He says, "Hi, I'm Bill." She introduces herself as Marsha and says it's nice to meet him. Bill says, "Nice tits, Marsha," and turns to his boss, Ted, and says, "This is Marsha. She's new. She has nice tits."
Marsha blushes and tells them it's nice to meet them both, then asks where the ladies room and the H/R office is.
Later on, Instructor Ted finds out he has a new person in his department, named Marsha. Ted goes over Marsha's duties with her in his office. He apologizes profusely for Bill's behavior. He explains that this department is full of Bills and hopes she doesn't mind. If it's bothersome, he suggests Marsha ask for a transfer. He can make that happen immediately on a quid-pro-quo basis: you scratch my back, I grab your tits. Marsha smiles and winks.
Shaquanda is messing with Hymie out on the floor, telling him how the Jews own everything. Hymie says if he owned everything, why would he be working here. His cousins own most of the banks, though. The floor breaks into laughter.
Jose is telling an old joke: "Hey, did you hear about the Puerto Rican fireman? He named his kids Hose-A and Hose-B." His buddies boo then laugh.
McSweeney asks what's the difference between the Easter Bunny and a sober Irishman. Answer: There is no difference - neither of them exist.
Wanting to blend in, Marsha suggests a new sexual harassment process. After you get harassed, you are required to rate the harasser on harassment and style. Her suggestion is put into place within a week.
Jeffy pokes ShaNayNay, "Imma axe you bout Beyonce." ShaNayNay drops her soda on the floor, laughing.
Instructor Ted is finished with the scenario and it's time for his questions:
- What did Bill have for lunch when they met Marsha?
- What size are Marsha's golden globes?
- "This was a trick. There was absolutely no sexual harassment in this scenario. Sexual harassment is only sexual harassment when it's unwanted. Marsha obviously wanted it."
Wireless phone charging is pretty inefficient. A recent study showed wireless took 47% more power. Any transfer from electricity to something else is inefficient. Speakers are grossly inefficient in transferring electricity to motion.
I asked lots of people, who told me wireless charging's penalty
wasn't significant.
I just watched a YouTube video where a woman claims to be a Super Soldier and had lived on different planets in the 1800s. That's a lot to swallow. I had to turn it off when she said 'hella'. I can't believe that.
Michelle Obama said she has 'low-grade depression,' blaming it on the Flying AIDS, racial tensions, and the Trump administration. I have sympathy for the woman - depression sucks. Blaming it on Trump, however, indicates a different problem.
There are many treatments for depression: medical, talk therapy, diets, a plant, and others. You do not have to feel this way. Consult your primary doctor, a therapist, a psychiatrist, a religious counselor, or ask a friend what they did.
Attack of the Phone
It was a dark and stormy night. No, wait, it was a dark night, as nights tend to be. I was in bed, trying to drift off early, for my early meeting. This, of course, meant the circus was in town. Mrs lefty was performing her tennis moves, only instead of left-right. it was upstairs-downstairs, at regular intervals. She, like most spouses, has a way of knowing just when I'm nodding off to sleep, and picks that precise moment to BANG through the door, allowing the dog on the bed, where she spends the next 5 minutes licking my forehead, until she has to be pried off (sadly, the dog, not the wife). Strangely, this does little for my sleep.
You have to admit, she has impeccable timing.
I put my phone on the shelf, with a small lip to prevent it getting too far away. Plugged in an earphone, which is wonderfully broken - only one side exists. That's ok, my ear can only listen to one side at a time. Put on my favorite nighttime listening and prepared to softly go away. Sometimes I sleep so soundly, I sleep through the dog leaping on me and licking my forehead. And walking on my chest. I chose precisely that moment to move 1/4" too far and my phone took a near-suicidal leap from the shelf, ignoring the small lip that allegedly stops it from getting too far away. Oddly, it didn't produce any noise, but I did. It started as a minor grumble and quickly escalated to muffled cursing and calling the phone's mother names. The dog has developed a pleasing new habit of BARKING when I raise my voice, so I'm reacting, she's BARKING, and now it's Wife who's having trouble getting to sleep.
I swept the carpet for the phone. Nada.
If it fell from a shelf, physics dictate it couldn't have gotten too far on the floor. Unfortunately, physics in my house are slightly... different. Perhaps it floated down, like a 5 pound feather, and landed on a different floor. Perhaps it had to go to the bathroom. Maybe it blipped into another dimension; all of these things were up for consideration, as I ran my hands over the carpet on the floor. As I continued to fail to locate it, I'd come up for air and each time, hit my head on a shelf. It was the perfect Three Stooges-Homer Simpson cartoon. Bang-OH. Bang-OH. Bang-OH. Did I learn anything from this? Hell no.
Again I grumbled. Again the dog 'reminded' me not to grumble, via BARKING. Once she starts, you can't get her to stop, even with threats of canine aviation.
All of this jolly noise got the attention of Wife, who asked me what I was looking for. Ummm.... my phone? I continued sweeping the floor and banging my head and grumbling. I continued to not find the phone. The dog continued to BARK. I continued to tell Dog what she could do with the barking. Finally, Wife can take no more and asks what I'm looking for. Well, it's the same phone I told you I was looking for 5 minutes ago. Can I have a flashlight, please?
Ah, flashlights.
Wife has a Flashlight Thing<tm>.
Wherever we go, if we see different flashlights, she has to buy them. We have approximately 5,247 different flashlights. We have military flashlights, we have small LED flashlights, we have large LED flashlights, we have around the corner flashlights, we even have those 10 pound police flashlights that helps them 'subdue' dissent. Strangely, we cannot locate ONE of them. Are you still paying attention? People with PTSD will recognize it when I say she bought 3 large tape measures, for 3 floors of the house, so she will have one there if she needs it. So what about the ($&#ing flashlights? They're in a different dimension, perhaps with the phone.
30 minutes later, she returns with a flashlight.
I start looking under the bed, only the flashlight is pretty dim.
I have spent entire nights replacing batteries in flashlights. It's become a replacement for sex. Yet I can barely see, in the total dark, with this flashlight. I saw tissues the dog chewed up, certain leather and rubber items, various unimportant body parts, and a 1957 Chevy I was restoring (it's a tall bed). There was still no phone. At this point, I could stand no more, and gave up, wondering if its alarm would wake me for work. As I wondered, the dog BARKED, for no apparent reason. If she gets tuned into what's in my head, she will shortly spit out her larynx.
Right I was: of course I got up about 17 minutes before the alarm, out of spite, and faded off, at which time I heard the alarm. It was loud and sonorous. So I searched. And searched. And dimly used the dim flashlight. And searched. And cursed. And listened to the dog BARK. I hoped she was under the bed, helping look for the phone, when I felt something fuzzy brush my leg. I really don't want to think of anything else that could be. The alarm went off for 5 solid minutes, during which time it succeeded in not being found. Ever helpful, Wife suggested I GO DOWNSTAIRS AND GET ANOTHER DAMN PHONE SO YOU CAN F'ING CALL IT. I suggested I pull the bed out after work, frustrated from trying. The dog just sat there, contemplating her next BARK. In the bathroom, moments later, I hear a knock. Wife found phone. Wife wanted to give it to me RIGHT THEN. I had something different going at that time, which would be very difficult to put on hold while I took the phone from her. She was not impressed, and kept insisting I take it NOW. With great effort, I stopped what I was doing and took the phone. Apparently the cord knocked the phone off the 3rd shelf. It flew down 2 shelves, at an impossible angle, and cleverly hid itself inside a children's toy, way at the back of the shelf. It went DOWN 4 feet, then made a LEFT.
I don't know what I'd do without that phone. Ok, that wife too.
I need some aspirin - the pain in my head is making me see stuff. Unpleasant stuff. More unpleasant stuff than normal. And I'm looking around wearily, waiting for Wife to drop the other baseball bat.
Right as I'm finishing work, Wife will go upstairs for a nap. I will decide to take a nap on the couch. Just as I'm drifting off, the phone will remain where it is, but Wife will come back down because she couldn't sleep. My entire life is like the Addams Family. On acid.
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