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...a sweatshop of moxie

Saturday, June 04, 2005

Relax The Back

Except for a deep-tissue massage, which just flat out hurts and leaves you more bruised than a bout versus Jim Braddock, the most self-indulgent pampering in life must be massages.

Massages which make your toes curl up and wiggle in utter pleasure, without the benefits of more intimate stimulus, are heavenly -- although I certainly wouldn't sneeze at both combined.

So it was my great joy this week to be able to enjoy the new workstation chair my parents got from Relax the Back.

Let me just say here and now that anything with the word "settings" gets my attention.

I am an unrepetant gadget-geek, never happier than when flicking switches, setting controls and gasping the word "Cool!", not just via inner monologue either, to the startled glances of my dog.

Well, this chair is like a triple-score in Scrabble, AND hitting Yahtzee. Way cool. Mondo cool. Coolissimo even.

Look at her. Ain't she pretty? They call her "cashew".

You shall go to the ball!

And yes, what. I call all my furniture "she".

You try getting a mind-altering massage from a "he" without strings attached.


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