888-738-3646.

That is the number for tech support for my Dexcom G6 finger poke free continuous glucometer system. It’s the number I need to call in order to tell them about the three sensors in a row that failed the exact same way at the exact same point in the two hour “warming up” part of starting a new sensor.

It’s the step I need to take in order to get back on track with my diabetes control. I had finally gotten it down into the healthy range when the previous sensor shut down and I am eager to get it under control again.

And it’s just a simple phone call, right? Just a few minutes talking to a total stranger and admitting to having a problem which might turn out to be all my own stupid fault

The sensors failed on Wednesday and it’s now Monday and I know I have to do it soon because I can feel the will to do so slipping away and it would be ever so easy to just let go and give in and let myself “forget” to do it and the next thing you know it’s six months or a year of no glucose control later and I have gotten much sicker and I am disingenuously claiming to have just “forgot”.

Which I did. Technically. But I could have held on to it harder instead of just deciding not to deal with it because it’s too hard and let it go slip sliding away into the depths of my mind to rest there with all the other things I should be doing, but don’t.

So with all that is at stake, it should be easy to just do it, right? It’s a no-brainer.

But no. It is hard to make myself do something when I have been “not doing it” for a little while. One of my all too easily invoked aversions has formed and the longer it remains, the harder it gets to overcome.

I need to do it. I want to do it. I have every reason to do it.

But I can’t make myself do it.

Or at least I haven’t yet.

I might have to work around it instead. Call the pharmacy and see if I can get a new box of sensors in the hope that the previous box of them failed because it was a bad batch.

Either way, I have to make a phone call.

But at least my pharmacist isn’t a total stranger who might have a very stressful to me accent that makes it hard to understand them.

Either way, I will get it done soon. Writing about it has helped me work through the emotions and I feel better about the whole thing now.

Maybe the key to overcoming these random aversions is talking them out. Pop the mental cramp by working the subject despite the pain and resistance.

Honestly, all paths out of my darkness involve a hell of a lot of pain.

But fuck it. I was born to suffer.

Might as well make that work in my favour for a change,.

More after the block.

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Haven’t done it yet. Tomorrow for sure, no excuses, gotta get it done.

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What the hell, more porn

And a few other bits n’ pieces, probably.

But first, a sexy bunny from out pal Chunie.

Or possibly a jackalope? Point is, hawt.

My god Chunie is amazing. Such extraordinary technical skill put to such horny use.

I feel both humbled and grateful. Truly, he is a blessing unto us all.

Amen and pass the Jergens.

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Then there’s this happy couple :

I choose to believe that these two just finished a damn good buttfuck and are cuddling and nuzzling as they bask in the warmth of the afterglow.

This is what love looks like to me. Cuddles, and buttsex.

It’s the best of both worlds.

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LOL. When the SPF^[1] of commercially available sunblocks started going up way back in the days of the ozone layer crisis, I found myself pondering the theoretical limits.

Like, what’s the SPF of a coat of paint? Or a brick wall? How goes skin color factor in? Does a pasty white dude like me need a higher SPF than James Earl Jones when he’s not playing the recently unmasked Darth Vader? And what about cats? What is the SPF of cat fur?

There has to be some upper limit past which literally no sunlight or UV can pass.

And it probably is made by Sherman Williams and comes in a wide variety of shades to match your personal style both inside and outdoors.

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I would REALLY love to make something like this.

Sadly, the idea has been done to death and is quite ancient by now.

But I don’t care. It seems like such a great way to create a ton of genuine content with just a bunch of friends and a camera and your own wacky imagination.

So some day, I swear, I will make something like this. And it will be hilarious and epic and full of insanely quotable non sequiturs and be treasured forever.

By me, at least.

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Look at this sexy doggo.

I really want to give him a good scritching between the ears.

Among other things. Rawr.

I’d probably end up wanting to take that collar off him eventually, if he will let me.

I just don’t like seeing someone tied up or restricted. Makes my skin crawl.

I’d make a lousy dom.

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And finally, one from my hero, Braeburned.

Go for it, little otter dude! This is opportunity knocking! Get some prime dick now!

Or come home with me and I will see your adorable little ass goes home happy.

I will see you nice people again tomorrow,

Told ya I would continue it.

d. In what ways are you bigoted?

Because trust me, you are.

We all are. That doesn’t mean we are all bigots. A bigot is someone who consciously and openly has bigoted views.

And while few will actually admit to it^[1], there are plenty of actual bigots in the world.

But most people aren’t one. How ever, we all have bigotry in us. It can’t be helped. we soak it up through our culture and it ends up seeping into the deepest parts of our minds where no mere conscious belief can reach it.

We cannot merely delete bigotry from our minds.

All we can do is remain vigilant so we can suppress it when it inevitably shows its ugly head from time to time. And that means being honest to oneself about the fact that you, too, have bigotry inside of you.

And so do I. And so does everyone else.

So I ask again… in what was are you bigoted?

Because only by admitting that we might be can we ensure we are not.

e. Do you have enough?

Related to question A.

Do you have enough of everything? Hell, of anything?

No, right? And everyone feels the same way…. even those with far more than us. We are all programmed by society to constantly want more, more, more.

So is it even possible to ever have enough? And if it isn’t, what is the point of getting more? It’s just a short term treatment for an acquisition addiction.

And what if we did decide we had enough. What if we told society and the world, “No more for me, please. I’m good.”? What would happen then?:

Nothing, right? Words can’t change fate. And yet saying so rouses the same powerful irrational superstitious fear as the money question. As if saying we have enough would guarantee we got less than we could have and that is the worst possible thing ever.

And yet we wonder why even the billionaires are constantly grasping for more. Having enough is not even presented as an option in Western consumerism.

Name one example in popular culture of someone besides an Eastern religious figure or teacher who says they have enough.

Yeah, I didn’t think so.

f. What will we tell our kids when they ask why we didn’t stop climate change?

We’re headed for global disaster. Everyone knows it. The weather will just keep getting worse all over the world and eventually it will be more than our technology and our economic systems can handle and everything will fall to flaming ruin.

What will we do when all the food dies?

Billions will die. You are going to be one of them. So is everyone you love and care about, as well as your enemies, your acquaintances, your neighbors, your peer groups, your pets, and most of everything else.

And one day children who grew up in a world on fire will ask us why we did not o absolutely everything in our power to stop this from happening.

What will we tell them?: Because there was “nothing” all seven and a half billion people could do to stop a hundred billionaires from killing us all? Because saving the world would have been seriously inconvenient? Because we didn’t want to make it a whole “thing” that would be just, like, so much hassle?

Better start working on our answers now, during the last of the good days.\

More after the break.

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I almost died

Twice. Sorta kinda.

Let me explain.

But first : I am not trying to assign blame or make anyone feel bad. I just have to write about this in order to process it.

OK, on with the show.

We were on our way to the Sav-on at Ironwood where I do my weekly Sunday shopping. We had the radio on and we were chatting and laughing and life was good.

We pulled into a T-shaped intersection and Julian yelled out to Joe and Joe pulled back and put on the brakes just in time for us not to be hit by some large white vehicle that rightfully blared its horn while it passed inches from the front end of our vehicle.

Then there was silence in the car as we resumed our journey. Joe mumbled something about not having seen the lights of the oncoming vehicle and also said some other stuff that I don’t remember.

I was kind of freaked out at the time.

For the next little while, I just sat there in the passenger seat, feeling my heart beat against my ribcage as I processed the shock.

I was very worried that the scare would set off a negative cardiac event.

That’s what I mean by I could have died twice (sort of). The crash might have killed me or the shock and scare of it might have given me a fatal heart attack.

I didn’t say much for the rest of the trip to Sav-On. I was pretty mad at Joe.

I’ve been in three car accidents while he was driving. One was totally not his fault – some idiot teens decided to park their vehicle on a VERY busy road.

Another was nobody’s fault. One of those moments in driving where things happen at just the wrong time for everyone involved.

But the third was totally his fault. He pulled into an intersection early while going “aaaah!” all jokingly and ker slam.

So I felt that this was more in the spirit of the third one. But I am not sure. It all happened too fast for me to know.

But I still have a tiny touch of PTSD from the previous accidents. Sometimes I will be in a car or a bus and some vehicle will be turning in our direction or easing into an intersection as we pass in the perpendicular direction or passing us in the next lane and for a split second I will completely panic because I know the vehicle is going to hit us.

That was before tonight.

It’s bound to be much worse now.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.