Neanderpundit

Now excuse me while I tape an episode of Oprah.

Irony meter: busticated.

To see if he could do something with these hands.

The bell on my bullshit detector must have gone off 200 times. The clapper finally fell off. I think he took one look at my insurance provider and thought ‘New BMW”.

He was rubbing on the muscles in my forearm with some kind of plastic tool, and saying “Doesn’t ths hurt? Let me know when this hurts”. Compared to the way my hands normally feel? Not at all, bud. Not even a little.

Like usual, for lack of anyone in the medical profession with the ability to provide any meaningful help, I guess I just learn to deal.

he reccomended a series of “Muscle stripping” therapies where his assistant would- I dunno, dissect my arms like a frog? He wasn’t too specific on the point. Sounded like a very expensive massage, and no happy ending in sight.

when the Oglet is in bed, the Ogwife will sit at her computer playing games online, and i will sit at mine surfing, and I will play DJ, playing songs from our teens and twenties, we sing along, and just enjoy being together.

One of the songs I play is a favorite of mine, and one of only two hits for Looking Glass: Jimmy Loves Mary Anne.

This morning, in the wee hours, I dreampt of Looking Glass, stranded on the island with Gilligan and the rest of the folks.

All i remember of the dream is them snging

“Ginger loves Mary Anne.
Ginger wants to be the Man”

and then I woke up, stunned by the lesbian whiplash of the whole event, and more than a little aroused as well.