A Little Inappropriate

I check a website called FailBook, on occasion, so I can groan at the stupidity of others, along with the thinly veiled spoof-stupidity people try to pass off as real stupidity.

One of the posts, this week, went something like this:

"Is it any wonder that women can't park when men are constantly lying to them about what 9 inches is?"

Haha. Genital jokes.

I think the writer has a point, though she doesn't realize its import: men have no idea what their true height is.

Take, for example, Date #1 (of a total of three dates, this week, and all within three days): his profile states clearly that he is 5'7" tall.

I am 5'7" tall, according to my internist. And I wore flats, so he wouldn't feel intimidated by my statuesqueness.

So why was I staring at his forehead when we spoke while standing?

Because, his ruler/measuring tape is different from mine. Obviously.

And so, just as pink/red/navy is the new black, so 5'5" is the new 5'7".

And 6'0" is the new 5'10", as my date today demonstrated (he's a repeat, but I hadn't noted the height difference on our first date. He was taller than I am: I wasn't going to complain).

So I eagerly await the unveiling of Wednesday's supposedly 6'0" tall fellow.

Also, you may be wondering: how did I go from two dates, yesterday, to three dates (as of approximately 1:15 a.m.) today?

Ahem.

I am a date-scheduling ninja.

My lunch date, today, tried to call me while I was on my date, last night. When my date visited the men's room, I texted in return, saying I was somewhere too loud to talk - out with friends, you know - and it was good to hear from him (and the restaurant was kind of loud). Yes, of course, I would love do lunch, but preferably Tuesday (I omitted the bit about not feeling up to two dates in one day). Before my (Monday night) date returned to the table, we'd fixed up the time and place, and established that I would drive myself as I would be out running errands during the morning.

If that's not ninja, I don't know what is.

Tonight, On Medical Mysteries...

I think my medical mystery might be solved. I think I solved it myself.

I think it's my work station.

No, I'm not joking.

I started back to work on Monday, working 4 hours in the office and 4 hours at home. Guess what? Since I've been working at my desk, the pain has increased, and has now spread to my fracking arm.

Again, no, I am not joking.

I posited the possibility of my ailment originating with my seating on Sunday while lunching with my parents, at which point my dad told me he'd buy me a new chair for the office, if I thought it would help me out. I have yet to choose a chair (a chair-looking trip is in order for tomorrow afternoon), but I looked on the interwebs for some research about the proper posture for typing, mousing, etc.

I sit all wrong. My arms are at the wrong angle (well, hello, elbow and thumb pain, where did you come from?) and my feet don't rest properly or at the correct angle (I have long legs, but to reach the floor and rest perpendicular to the floor, they'd need to be two inches longer).

Our desks at work were designed for the halcyon days when hand drafting ruled the world of architecture. They are intended to be stood over, leaned over, as you curse while your smallest-nibbed Rapidograph pen gets clogged and you suck on the nib in vain in an attempt to get the ink flowing before deciding you don't have time for this s%@* because you have a deadline tomorrow so you go drop another $20 on a new pen that will get clogged two months down the road.

Ahem. Not that I have any experience with that from college, or anything.

So today, I set about correcting my posture as best I can, under current working conditions. I don't lean back in my seat, because my ergonomically-challenged chair forces me to slouch. So I sat up, shoulders back, probably looking like an utter prig.

When I got in the car to drive home, I realized that my poster there, too, is terrible, as I lean to one side, resting my right elbow on the console, bending my left leg, and resting my left elbow on my left knee to drive. Oh, sure, I might look amazing in that devil-may-care position, cruising around in my superfly 2005 Honda Civic, but you know what? The devil truly is in the details, and right now he's causing a royal pain in my... hip. And leg. So I rectified my posture driving too.

Have I noticed a change? Well, frankly, no. But I'm also not sitting at the correct height for my keyboard. I'm getting a little keyboard desk thingy to go under my desktop to lower the keyboard and mouse to the appropriate levels for ergonomically correct typing/mousing tomorrow (Pacman is sacrificing his because he doesn't like it).

In the meantime, I'll just carry on, looking more like a girl at a finishing school than a superfly superstar. But no books will be balanced on this head, thank you very much. I refuse to sacrifice my superfly hair.

That's simply too much to ask of a girl.