Thursday, February 18, 2016

Burping The Antichrist - 1. Undoomed

If a doctor makes a recommendation in the forest and only I am there, has that recommendation been made?

So call me a skeptic, but after a lifetime of avoiding and not feeling a need for fixing what is working, the only things that were broken were the things I went in to have remedied. That has been done and have no correlation to any other remedy offered. Of course the outrage of not being on a plethora of preventive salves, solvents, and high dollar potions caused a ripple in the research which could only be remedied by a barrage of high cost, low effect pharma.

But who can afford that shit. Nothing market place when the market place will not  bear such prices. A billion burgers would not have been served if their price was $35.95 since 1962. The scourge of Golden Arches across the globe would have been suffocated in it's baby birthing bun.

As I slowly ween myself off Big Pharma's preventative crack I realized once more that everything is OK until it isn't.

Meanwhile I shall chalk it up to very expensive pee that has passed under the bridge.

I and the world around me shall be the better for it.

Now back to the long awaited transacting of commerce.

Friday, November 20, 2015

I'm Doomed - 6. Pay Up

Once upon a time the Narco Pharma Medical Industrial Complex would try to create a sense of urgency because they knew could badger you to pay when the Insurance Protection Racket Industry demurred about payment.

Now it is more a case of ..... whenever.

Meanwhile, now that the Insurance Protection Racket Industry actually has to pay for healthcare procedures rather then hoard the cash profits and invest them in black market oil deals with nefarious organizations generating more share holder profits; their collective whining is enough to wake the dead from past preexisting condition canards.

How do they do it.

Volume!

Step right up.

To top it off while being sliced and diced marginal source of revenue goes poof like the vapors released from incision.

Oh My.








Thursday, October 29, 2015

I'm Doomed - 4. Cascade

As all ecosystems cascade and collapse into decay, so does a body's. Tomorrow an attempt to buttress and contain one such system shall be attempted through the Pharma Narco Medical Industrial Complex upon my person.

I salute all who have endured previous medical transactions like mine and those who follow on tables to come.

Tuesday, October 20, 2015

Life At The Sentient Bean - The Eternal Work In Progress

Where are you Fang Fang Wu?


 She was a driver for Golden Labrador Retrieval Waste and Recycle , and was thumping a dumpster into the hopper, humming Bang a Gong in the key of “O”, when she turned around and saw me smoking a cigarette at the back door of the “Sentient Bean”

She whistled through the gap in her front teeth and exclaimed in the unforgivable voice of hers,

 “Well slap my ass and call me Sally “

  1. Police
  2. Casino
  3. Sally
  4. Bannister
  5. Mediatrix
  6. Braking Ugly
  7. Suite Fang Fang Wu
  8. Night of the Living Drunks
  9. Fish on the Brain
  10. Randy
  11. Gaping Maw

Thursday, October 15, 2015

I'm Doomed - 3. Confess

The Pharmo Narco Medical Industrial. Complex says "Under the knife you go."
Never mind that the Mercury rising meds don't fit their criteria or the gear that tracks how high the Merc shall rise; it's "hi ho hi ho to the cutting block you go..."

As described the surgery will be handled akin to the final scenes from the movie "Braveheart".



They upside is that anesthesia will be used and said procedure will not happen in surgeons garage or in a public forum. Apparently that is where some of his best consultations transpire.
But the learned man looks exactly how I would cast a doctor, so what can go wrong,
After all when is the last time a man has been hung drawn and quartered. So maybe quartered isn't in the prognosis.

Yet....

Friday, October 2, 2015

I'm Doomed - 2. Honoré de Balzac

Upon further review, mercury has risen through the roof. Many of my treat types of HTL, HTC, Hot LC are in my blood and I border on the sugar blues.

More Narco Pharmo Mojo is indicated.

But wurst of all (sausage reference intended):

Many unspeakable things have found their was into my balzac. We are not talking Honoré de here.

Plus I have to ask my doctor if I can have nookie.

You would think since she palpitated my Honoré de Balzac doppelganger on our first meeting, asking would be a snap.

But it ain't. 

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Reflection

I was driving this train. I was the conductor, engineer, and fire woman. He had lit this flame and I was stoking it up for a full speed ahead cross cuntry trip. 

Reflecting On His Toes

Monday, September 28, 2015

I'm Doomed - 1. Pharmo Narco Industrial Complex

The Pharmo Narco Industrial Complex has got my coat sleeves. I feel it pulling me into their clutches. For the first sixty years I have never been on "medication" before. Now the siren song of sulfoid derivatives has gotten on my back. Who knows what unspeakable snake oil concoctions they will hook me on next.

Sure the mercury defied gravity, but it should when first introductions are asking to touch my swellings where no swelling should ever be. It was like a nightmare first date without the dinner, or the candlelight, or the drive to, or the drop off at home.

Just Boom.

Cut to the chase.

Touch me here.

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Notes - The Mill

That's when he notices me. He rests his hand on mine but I know it is so my cleavage stays tucked around his arm. His blue eyes swallow me and his attention engulfs me. Suddenly it is just us two in the late night jazz club.

I would not have even noticed Jim staggering out if Lynne had not lingered a bit too long and a bit too close as she left. It almost felt like she had expected Sam to leave with them. Not necessarily with me along was my impression.

Friday, September 11, 2015

Notes - Pass Around Joy

The ride home with the Nanny was indeed frosty. Not only since I had driven there with the windows rolled down to air out the spacious double couch design of the Bonneville hoping that the scent of other women and male splooge would be whisked away on the wind. Now with the heater on the atmosphere within was still frosty.

“So that guy must be used to giving their Nannie’s a ride home.” I said sheepishly.

“No. I am their first nanny.” she said coldly, adding “They had an Au Pair before me.”

“An oh pair of what?” I asked trying to weasel my way through with humor.

Au Pair. A. U.  P. A. I. R. silly.” The Nanny giggled after a brief attempt not to be thawed. “Some foreign chick that lived in and cared for the kids.” she concluded.

“Cozy.” Was all that I could say as I imagined a foreign floozy in the family home.

“Maybe too cozy.” The Nanny added cryptically.

Not cryptically enough as the tableau of the wife looking anxiously after the hubby and the Nanny out the window as they headed for his car when I arrived. The plot was thickening.

I glanced over and noticed just how hot she looked in her Nanny uniform. Especially since I knew what this rather prim and proper garb obscured. I am sure her middle aged male client had noticed the same. I knew her female client knew.

No generation gap there.

As the Bonneville cut through the frosty night the Nanny curled up next to me in he front seat and place her head on my shoulder just where Beverly had cuddled an hour earlier. Only the Nanny had shorter, lighter, and certainly better maintained coiffer than the Bev.

“I know it’s late, but can we go to your place for a bit.” She cooed” Maybe moke -a joint.” she said in mock baby talk stoner jargon we had adopted.

“I can do better than that.,” as I pulled one out of my pocket and pushed the car cigarette lighter in. As the smoke wafted through the cabin I knew my scent and betrayal trail had been covered.

Friday, August 21, 2015

Notes-The Mill

One look at the photograph taken in the early morning does not do the story justice. There I was. There was Jim. There was Lynn also on the far side of me. Sam was front and center, as he likes it, with me peering around him leaning on the bar. There was my cleavage pressing into Sam's arm. I had his bicep in my boobs grasp.That was the night I got what I had longed for. This night also drove home the words, “be careful what you wish for”.

My frustration had reached new heights that very day. Why is it the men I do not want peering at my breasts are always leering, while the man I want to show them off to would always speak to me eye to eye. I had never even caught Sam sneaking a peek. What I did not realize is just how sneaky he really was. But he is a man. Now he is my midnight Sam.

About Me

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Purveyor of paralogical compliance to verbally mediated reality, artisanal smut, with a pinch of full time flâneur tossed in to taste.