I'm a cliff-jumping rodent.

Excellent. RSI. Hurts bad... yet I'm still typing like a lemming. Ouchy. I hate that the things I love fuck me up so much. I'll end up sterile and arthritic. At least they'll have real good voice recognition type software stuff by then. I can sit in the corner and yell at the computer from behind an iron sheild. Write my award-winning novels out loud, which will cut down on the brainstorming sessions at Gloria Jeans, but will keep my wrists from that familiar crunching pain. I want that Tai Chi software from Minority Report. Fuck, while Im asking for things, why not a cup of tea?