I am moved beyond earthly distractions to discover that the world's most practical intellects, as we first told you earlier Monday, have conjured up a fully functioning sex robot.
On its Web site, True Companion declares quite forcefully that Roxxxy "knows your name, your likes and dislikes, can carry on a discussion, and expresses her love to you and be your loving friend. She can talk to you, listen to you, and feel your touch."
I can feel so many of you, frustrated with your current emotional and pheromonal situation, already logging on to this site (please be of age. I'd hate to see you get into trouble) before I have given you any more details.
But you need to know more details. Roxxxy has dark hair. She wears a negligee. And her skin allegedly feels like, well, skin.
Wait, wait. She is 5-foot, 7-inches tall, weighs 120 pounds, and has five personalities. Yes, she is just like that girl who ignored your deft humor in Bar Italia last Friday, but better. Because Roxxxy is customizable.
If you don't like dark hair, you can make her blond, or ginger or, please try this, bald. You can change her race and even the dimensions of her cleavage.
The Telegraph quoted Douglas Hines, Roxxxy's Dr. Frankenstein, as saying, "She can't vacuum, she can't cook but she can do almost anything else if you know what I mean."
Do you know what he means? I fear I do. I fear you do.
This could mean the end of friending co-workers on Facebook. This could mean the end of wanting to make any of your information public on Facebook ever again. This could mean the end of speed-dating and dinners with your in-laws. This could mean the end of sexual friction as we know it.
Roxxxy can talk cars, sports, and other fetishes. And she can move like a person but can't run away. For those of you with a particularly technical approach to life, she is also Wi-Fi capable and has 24-hour tech support. It's like being able to get hold of your sex therapist 24 hours a day. Who wouldn't want that?
And do I have to mention that she's always turned on and can, um, show it? No, I do not. But it's perhaps worth informing you that she costs between $7,000 and $9,000, depending on the level of sophisticated chat you might require. I only mention this so that you know exactly how much you need to save to enjoy the perfect at-oneness that Jane Austen introduced you to when you were 12.
I know that there will be a significant number of you who would like to make the acquaintance of a male version of Roxxxy. He is, according to TrueCompanion.com, in the works. He will be called Rocky and will be more bountifully endowed than John C. Holmes or Harvard.
Actually I don't know that last part for sure, but who could possibly be surprised if he were?
And who could possibly be surprised if males and females of the species were not soon wandering into the office in moods far removed from those currently exhibited regularly, especially on Mondays?