My Back

The interweb in general and Facebook in particular are killing me. We had to rearrange some furniture so the plumbers and their helpers would have room to do what they needed to do. As an unforeseen result, I wound up not having a chair with a back to sit in while I surfed the net. I woke up Friday morning six feet tall with a healthy back. I woke up Saturday morning five foot six with scoliosis and four bulging disks. I was uncomfortable the whole time I was on my computer, but it didn’t slow me down. I had to play Mob Wars and keep abreast of all the celebrity gossip. Emma Watson is going to Brown, in case you didn’t know. Go Bears. I did absolutely nothing positive or constructive while I sat there ruining my back, but I sat there anyway. Why, for who, for what? I don’t think I’d be as upset if it was only me that was stupid, but I know I am a reflection of society. I don’t spend anywhere near the amount of time on Facebook as a bunch of my friends, but I know I spend way too much. I don’t do Twitter at all and that’s still way too much time. This is how bad I am, or how bad television has become. I could have gotten up off the ottoman I was sitting on, turned around, sat in the chair that accompanies the ottoman, and watched television very comfortably. Basically, I decided that cocaine is too old school and won’t make my teeth fall out. I’d rather go with the crystal meth. My back hurt so bad I just floated in the ocean hoping to get some approximation of the Dead Sea effect, and when we went to the Riverside Arts Market I seriously considered ignoring the thoughts of the people who’ve sat in the massage chair sweating into that face ring thing and almost got a massage. I would have but it was about fifteen minutes before the whole thing shut down, and there was already someone ahead of me wiping their fungus onto the pleather. I have to figure out a way to fit some yoga into my life.