I wake each morning at four a.m. with the aid of an implanted circadian rhythm clock I’m beta testing for GoogleBrain and do fifteen minutes of subconscious goal oriented eastern hemispheric mediation. I get all my morning news in the shower where I’ve installed four flatscreens: Power-Breakfast on CNBC, France 24, Russian Television and local news, in addition to Howard Stern on my aquatically powered shower radio for comic relief. I like to diversify. I also scan The Times, The Journal, Variety and the Reporter in special waterproof bags that allow me to read while rinsing.
I have all my subordinates reverse commute to my home in the Hills, and then we all drive back downtown, organizing the day whilst taking an enzyme infused breakfast intravenously in the back of Prius limo. I’ve completely cut out caffeine. A few snorts of organic hemp protein powder knock out any remaining hunger pangs.
At the office, I answer over one million e-mails a day and have never missed a call in 31 years. I self-designed a mini-modular unit to fit over my private toilet, where I do my best thinking, and recently trademarked an automated butt-swiper so as not lose valuable seconds washing and drying.
During briefings, I raise my children.
It’s not so much multi-tasking as it is simultaneous multi-management. This takes me right into lunch. It confounds me to no end how I used to just sit and have a meal. Careless. Wasteful. Stupid. Now, I work-out with a trainer while eating, thus burning off the calories before they tack on the unwanted cellulite. My ass is a work of art because I treat it as such. I also use this time to hear verbal synopses spoken in tandem by personally hired theater and film critics and on any other culture I might want to fast-forward scan through later on.
From three to midnight it’s returning calls, setting up tomorrow’s meetings and glancing over whatever contracts/prospectus I’ve been given throughout the day.
During this time I’ll make dinner and have sex with my husband. A normal sex life is hard but now that my smart phone can talk, I can listen and respond to messages while copulating. If my oral cavity is clear, why not use the minutes?
Of course, before going to bed, I read briefs about the children’s day and dictate comments back to them to maintain a caring presence in their world. My husband and I haven’t yet had time to go on a honeymoon, though I’ve recently purchased a surprise for him; we’re going to say to hell with all this work and take a weekend tour of Europe.
When I finally turn the lights off three hours before I wake, that’s it. I slip blissfully away with the aid of inter-hemispheric subliminal re-energification podcasts on repeat. It helps me take a second, literally, to thank God, Mohammed, Buddha, Zorroaster, and all those other deities who might have influence in the after life, for the opportunity I’ve been given on this earth, to fully explore myself and be appreciative of all the things around me.