Insuring Ball Kicking...

There's a burning in my pride, a nervous bleeding in my brain.

Fucking pleurisy.

It decided to flare its ugly little head again last night, just when I thought I had it beaten into some sort of submission.

How I wish I had the comeback ability of Rocky… I could just slowly crawl to the middle of the ring… jump up and pummel the holy hell out of pleurisy.

But, alas, I will just sit here and complain, sigh heavily and from time to time fight back some tears.

Then, today, we find out how much our insurance is increasing.

Where is Obamacare when I need it?

I really don’t know much about Obamacare, it just sounds good to me. 

Now, I get higher deductibles and less employer contributions.  All this, of course, isn’t a big deal if you don’t have any health issues.

But, I have a chronic autoimmune disease that requires frequent doctor visits and lab tests. Mo money, mo money, mo money…

I love it when people say “You work in healthcare; I bet you have good insurance.”

“You’d be surprised”

I hate insurance companies, I work with them everyday, and they are the ones that are ruining healthcare.  They totally control it.  If you support healthcare reform, insurance reform is where it needs to start, but it never will because too many politicians are in the pockets of the insurance companies.

It’s way cheaper for the insurance company if I just die.

Anyway, unless someone has an idea how I can better afford quality healthcare, I’ll move on.

I get a message on the dating site last night that reads like this:

“Random question, but have you ever kicked someone in the balls?”

I have to say that was a little unexpected.

Here is an excerpt from his dating profile, notice #6:

Okay, I totally get that everyone has their “thing”, I have mine, you have yours and as long as everyone is on board it can be a beautiful thing.

And really, I’m not judging his “thing”; I suppose I’m intrigued by it.

I replied to his query like this “Once in the fourth grade, a guy that was picking on me”.  His name was Harvey and he was really mean to me, I didn’t intend to kick him in the balls, that was just what happened.  I felt bad about it, but he didn’t bother me anymore after that.

How does one acquire such a “thing”??

Did some little girl with freckles and pig tails kick him in the balls in elementary school?  Has he been obsessed since, asking women to deliver a swift blow to his gonads? 

But, kicking someone in the balls for their uuummmm gratification… I’m not sure how I feel about that.

I couldn’t see myself just meeting someone, kicking him in the balls, then going on about my day.  I’m not a prude or anything, that would just feel too bizarre for me.

If I was involved with someone who, at some point in our relationship, asked me to do that, I’d consider it, I suppose.  We are, at that point, back to the “everyone on board” thing.

I am morbidly fascinated with the little quirks and fetishes that people have.  This one really piqued my curiosity.  But… do I ask more questions? I don’t want to somehow make him think that I have a level of interest that I don’t have.  I am not about leading someone on…

I need to ponder this a little bit, and think of a way to convey my curiosity without seeming to be “sexually” interested.

So last night, I was Florence Nightingale! I trekked up to Oakley and delivered some Gatorade to an ailing friend. 

Cincinnati through my rainy windshield.

I71N tunnel.

We sat there and watched episodes of “Better Off Ted”, great show that I’ve never heard of.

“I can’t believe you didn’t watch this” D said.

“I cannot commit to series television” I just can’t, its how I roll.  But, Netflix could open up a whole new world of entertainment for me.  I have Netflix, I just never watch it.

Ok, back to work… dammit.