I have a friend who works at the same place I do, but in a much more important position than I do, and every time I run into him, he’s talking about his ergonomic chairs in his office, which are see-through.
And I have to tell you, I spend a lot of time sitting in my office, behind my desk made of glorified cardboard, thinking about invisible chairs. Being slightly jealous of those invisible chairs.
It’s not like I really want see-through chairs. I just want something in my office that other people would covet, a little bit.
Yes, I covet covetable things.
I have half a mind to sneak over to his office and take a picture of his see-through chair, just to post it here.
Then you, too, can covet the chair I covet, even though I’ve never seen it, though I’m not sure I could see it even if I could.
The thing in your office other people covet a little bit is you.
Then where are my smooches?! I’m sitting here entirely smooch-free all day.
And did you get that the chair is see-through? Invisible. Like Wonder Woman’s jet.
People are saving up the smooches until you are sure that you aren’t sick anymore. Then you’ll have to deal with the backlog.
Now, in all probability, your employer has an art collection. And, if your employer is similar to other institutions of the same sort, it makes it possible for employees to borrow parts of the art collection to decorate their offices. You might want to investigate the possibility of obtaining something visually fabulous for your office that way.
Yeah, but if she gets something fabulous for her office, then that will distract from the fabulousness that is B.
What you need is invisible art to go with your invisible chair.
But I have fabulous things in my office! I have a great “Island of Lost Souls (with the Panther Woman)” poster and a cool old mirror and artsy crap Mack hung up for me and a whimsical clock.
All those things are great (and paid for by me, sadly), but none of them are an invisible chair. That’s where it’s at.
Lee, hurray for smooches!
Ya know, I don’t want to rain on your parade, but if your chair was invisible you’d all the time be sitting down where it isn’t, and bumping your shins on it when you try to walk across the office. At least, I would. I can see the appeal, but I have to take fabulousness points off it for the inconvenience.
But it’s ergonomic!
And that will, of course, be of inestimable advantage after you have wrenched your back by sitting down where there is no chair.
Yeah, I easily see you as the sort that rams your shins into glass coffee tables.
Hey, now, you two! I demanded smooches, not sass.
So, if it was both ergonomic and invisible, you’d be tripping over it and saying “ERG!” all the time. What’s to covet?
No, B, Ex means me. He’s sassing me. Because he thinks I’m trying to make you feel bad, when I’m really just trying to make you look on the bright side of the chair(less) situation.
Yes, Ex, I have done something very similar to that. More than once. I also have remarkably pale skin, plus a physical condition that would make my bruises unusually florid even if I could tan, so you can imagine how I look all the time. Or how I would look if I wore shorts. I bet you can figure out why I don’t wear them, too.
I bet you can figure out why I don’t wear them, too.
You don’t secretly have a penis, do you?
Naw, I just don’t think the bruised heroin chic look works on a woman with my beautiful hair.
As I just want to be involved, have an invisible chair and win the lottery where I could buy us both one …
If you can’t have an invisible chair, you can console yourself slightly sour grapes:
* You know what’s the opposite an an ergonmic, invisible chair? A throne. A big, uncomfortable, extremely opaque throne.
* Who the hell needs a $750 chair? I mean, sure paraplegics, but who else? If you had such a chair, you would just feel guilty about poor students not being able to afford tuition, while your institution handed out $750 chairs ($950 if you order it with lumbar support).