I Am Falling Behind

It’s true that I am always multi-tasking so I can accomplish the most projects in the least amount of time. I answer emails while I’m talking on the phone, especially to my mother, who, although wonderful, has a tendency to repeat herself. “Jean, did I mention there’s a Senior Pageant here at Friendly Arms and I want to enter. I need new pumps that don’t swell my feet.” I do it when I’m talking to the kids, texting Maury about dinner and unloading the dishwasher. Or driving and munching pistachios. Or petting Amber, watching the news and reading from my Kindle.

Which leads me to the next issue. Maury is trying to drag me into the 21st century by buying me updated technology. That ratchets up my anxiety to unacceptable levels. I need Kindle lessons, iPhone tutorials and Facebook coaching. I have what is officially known as “tech tsoris,” an invention of my own making.

So you can imagine my sheer delight when Maury so subtlley left me research that says multi-taskers are falling behind. Eyal Ophir, a real person with a name out of a children’s book, is one of three Stanford (that means they’re smart) who says if you’re doing too many things at once (I average at least three) you’re not filtering out irrelevant information. Maury highlighted that part with yellow. And you’re not helping your memory. Mine is shot because I have children. It’s a known fact that part of the brain comes out with the placenta.

So, in conclusion, scientists are saying that doing multiple tasks at once “raises concerns about safety, productivity and education.” It also means my stress level is rising as I sink into a morass of technology and senior pageant requests from my mother.

What’s a Boobquake and Do We Want to Participate?

Leave it to a smarty-pants Purdue coed to create¬† an international sensation. In order to disprove an Iranian cleric’s theory that “immodest dress has the power to make the Earth shake,” Jennifer McCreight, with her double major of evolution and genetics, has suggested every women show a little cleavage to see if the Earth moves. With enough moxie for her feminist sisters and a dose of rational thinking, sistah Jennifer is ready to unleash what a little cleavage might tempt according to the cleric: leading young men astray, corrupting chastity and spreading adultery, “which increases earthquakes.”

Now if I thought for a minute my upper level endowment could cause the earth to move, I’d be out on Scottsdale Road shaking it up. But, alas, my power is in my brain and multitasking, not my boobs. Although a shimmy now and then from the women of the world seeking control might give us some gravitas.



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