FROM TIMMY'S TO GEEKMEET
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FROM TIMMY'S TO GEEKMEET
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Thursday works out best to be my Day Away from The Tard Farm.
This week's trip was the best so far. We did almost enough to
make this get-together qualify as a classic GeekMeet[tm] which we
used to have back in our Commodore BBS days. Mr Cheez, Miss
Kooky, Swan with Delsie, the Living Icon of Tastelessness, and
Julian met me at the Powell Street cable car turnaround, site of
the world-famous formerly "World's Biggest" Woolworth's store.
We adjourned to the coffee bar in the basement of San Francisco
Centre where we proceeded to talk all at once about as many
tasteless and ironic subjects as possible. Mr Cheez brought the
mail which included Box Number Three of The Nurz's TSS and a
small parcel from Hank.
The third installment of the TSS contained more surgical drag,
irrigation syringes, strange and wonderful tubes and hoses, and a
couple of genuine latex catheters with built-in retention
balloons. I was especially happy to see these because Mr Cheez
has not been able to properly play with his peepee for so long.
I tried to obtain a supply from another source who shall remain
nameless (who enjoys fucking GNN CD/ROMs) but we were
unsuccessful.
And then there it was ... the Holy Hollow of Investigation, a
fourteen-inch plastic proctoscope complete with obdurator (which
will only be used when a minor infraction is to be punished at
A.T. Clue Memorial). Offend majorly and you will get the scope
the bluntest way possible. Thank you, Murzypoo. My joy will be
complete when I have Mr Cheez on his hands and knees...
The little parcel is a surprise from Hank. It is a relic of the
Sonoran, i.e. Arizona, desert. It is the bone from a coyote's
penis. I gather it is tribute to my early career cultivating and
taking down boy bones in my home town. How tasteless, Hank! How
thoughtful!
I brought the medical goods catalogue Nurz included in an earlier
TSS installment. Swan ordered me to bring it under pain of a
deeper, widening acquaintanceship with the Sacred Peehole
Stretcher. Swan had a lot of phun chortling over Grandma Chase
as described in the catalogue. She's the fully treatable elderly
wommakin who comes complete with female parts and male parts you
can substitute. Grandma is ambisextrous! If you fix her up
right, Grandma has quite a honker. Swan thinks Grandma would
make a wonderful B&D training aid.
Swan brought a gen-you-whine old-fashioned doctor bag with the
SPS, several inventive dildos, one of which resembled a frosted
glass cactus and another which is severely rifled and therefore
able to literally screw an orifice. The piece to be resisted was
the Puissant Pooper Peeker, a classic anal speculum -- sort of
Donald Duck for assholes. We reached the consensus that most of
these implements of clue installation work best after a day's
storage in the freezer.
Between The Nurz's overwhelming TSS this year and the toys Swan
has collected, we have all the materials we need to open the West
Coast Mengele Memorial Enlightenment Clinic. I suggest for
Patient Zero none other than the Minoxydil fuckwad. The hair we
remove to enable his deeply widening enlightenment can be
crazyglued where he needs it more; waste not, want not.
Speaking of hair, Swan traded curios with me. I exchanged a
pickle pin on my hat for a crack vial containing New Year's
glitter and pubes from one of Swan's intimates. Further speaking
of hair, I spent some time staring at myself in the mirror this
morning. I do believe that with my fairly new short hair parted
on the side look and my now quite full stretch mark covering
moustache, I am about the handsomest example of Kastro-style
tonsorial splendor one may look upon. I get this sort of
feedback from others. The way I really feel about it is much the
same as I feel about my red shirt: You guys have to look at it -
- I'm glad you like it because if you don't it will be el turdo
tuffo.
It was truly fine having Julian with us as a sort of proctor. Mr
Cheez and I were frequently distracted by Gen Xers and pubescent
honeys of the male persuasion to the point of rudeness to the
company. I am sure Julian will well and truly flame us for being
such inattentive letches. Miss Kooky usually makes us behave
better but chose not to be strict today. Even queens have to pay
attention to their ladies in waiting. Mr Cheez wanted to eat,
and so, not being able to tskandalize SF Centre easily, we took
off for Booger King up the street where a nice lady bequeathed us
her booth.
After luncheon, Mr Cheez and Miss Kooky risked sudden coronary
death pushing the Queenly Bulk up to the Royal Residence, one and
a half blocks away and easily two stories higher on the hill. We
turned in additional financial information to one of the
manageresses, statements which ought to conclusively prove Da
Kaween's genteel poverty.
We asked for and had a tour of the residential part of the
building, meeting one long-time resident and seeing that the
Royal Palace is going to amount to one room, a private potty/bath
and a closet. One may operate a small refrigerator, a hot plate
and/or toaster oven and/or a microwave oven in the room. The
Royal rent will be less than $250/month which is San Francisco is
regarded as impossible.
The activites person who showed us the building is trendy as all
get out. This may be a low income and semitard/retirement
residence but the folks who live there are far from past it.
They have dances and parties about twice a month. Activities
lady has a brow ring, a nose ring, a lip ring, many finger rings,
and generally effects the Gen X/Gypsy look.
There is a coffee bar two doors away, a coffee shop cattycorner
the other way, much shopping close by and all sorts of healthy
but pleasantly abnormal people to watch. Buses and rail transit
are quite convenient as are wayside shrines for both the
BankAmuriKKKa and WellsFucko denominations of Our Lady of the
Greenbacks. If I get bored I can save my diet cola cup from
Booger Queen and sit on the cable car route looking pitiful and
beg change off tourists. BBBWWWAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!
I told several of my friends at St Timmy's I expect to be moving
in about a month. Nobody living here who knows me is happy about
it though they wish me well. I can tell the management will be
glad to see me go. They may think they will see the last of me
soon. They are mistaken. I have every intention of visiting
Queen Bee, George, and Spastic Lady Who Ain't Too Bad That Way.
I have to make sure Miss Ralph continues to do a creditable job
for these people. Miss Ralph is directed to report for duty in
my court as the newest lady in waiting. The bitch ain't gettin'
off easy. We must have a lavender African princess. Now to find
the rice princess. We have a Filipino princess picked out but
"she" won't come quietly.
Because of the layout of the rooms in the Royal Residence, I need
to have the bathroom door removed to make the hall and the turn
into the throne room truly navigable. I don't want to hear any
tittering in the back about how Miss Two by Four can't get
through the bathroom door. That shit was old in first grade.
Don't start with me!
I will have yellow-tinted sunlight off the wall of the building
next door unless I get one of the few front rooms in which case I
may have a lot more noise than I care for and a southern
exposure. Only if I get on the fourth floor or higher will I
have any sort of view. The view across to a neighboring hotel
might be interesting with a telescope at night...
Miss Ralph has been on the horn all week trying to straight out
the mess with my wheeled throne that started when it was ordered
for me at The ERR. It was only recently I found out that I
should have been paying rent on this thing all along and that I
now owe the owners over $1100 for it. This is more than it is
worth, obviously.
According to laws and procedures, tardfarms must supply
wheelchairs for their inmates. It so happened The ERR had a
twenty-inch chair and I used it so long as I was there. When I
was to leave, they obtained the new chair for me -- new to me
because I have evidence it was previously rented. I understood
that MediCal was going to pay for this chair. What should have
happened when I moved to St Timmy's is that St Timmy's should
have supplied me with a chair from their stock. This is the
overview of the law and procedure.
There is more. It seems the tardfarm is not obligated to supply
other than standard sixteen- and eighteen-inch chairs. Therefore
St Timmy's (and The ERR as well) have no obligation for furnish a
special wheelchair. Then who does? -- the inmate's insurance
company has to come up with it. But Cruella Cross denied that my
having a wheelchair (apparently whether powered or manual) was a
"medical necessity" and so they denied responsibility. We went
through this game ages ago at The ERR. Fine. I'll set my ass on
the floor and they can come get their rented wheelchair and they
can wait for me to shit them some rent money!
What Miss Ralph did, bless her soul, was put it to Cruella Cross
like this: Don't you provide durable medical equipment? Yes,
they do. Isn't a wheelchair durable medical equipment? Yes it
is. Then why is this resident doing without a wheelchair when he
is insured by you? Because he is living in a skilled nursing
facility and we do not provide durable medical equipment for
anyone living in a skilled nursing facility.
Now Miss Ralph had them ezzackly where she wanted them. She
continued, The facility does not, by law, have to provided non-
standard durable medical equipent, in this case a large-sized
wheelchair. Therefore you are required, by virtue of your place
as the resident's primary insurance carrier, to provide this man
a 20-inch chair he needs because the company whp owns the chair
he is sitting in is fixing to come get it and leave him sitting
on the floor!
Furthermore, Miss Ralph continued, this man is preparing to
return to the community and is going to live in an urban area and
will need a powered chair in order to transport himself on the
streets to take care of his business. The occupational therapist
from a medical supply company in a neighboring town came to see
me the next day. She measured me for an Invacare powered chair.
I'm glad the subject of E&J didn't come up because this outfit
has been panned among gimps on the internet as building crap
which spends more time in the shop than on the street.
The OT also doesn't think much of Quickie any more because they
have begun to cheapen their lines. She showed me the details on
my Breezy manual chair (made by Quickie) which Quickie is now
cutting back on. I will get to keep the Breezy I have been
spending so much time in for so many months because Cruella Cross
done seen the light and is gonna buy it out for me from its
owners in Silicon Valley. And in this round of negotiations,
nobody is talking to that high-priced snotty gimpchair outfit in
Berzerkeley. They know who they are. The bottom line is, I am
to keep the manual chair I have and I will soon have a powered
chair and driving lessons!
After looking at the Royal Residence, we went around the corner
to the chain drug store in the Royal 'Hood to get a new blood
glucose meter. After comparing over a dozen models through
references on the internet, I chose the Glucometer Elite now sold
by Bayer Corporation. This is more "durable medical equipment"
and Cruella better not give me a ration when I send them Ming the
Merciful's prescription and the sales ticket! One nice thing
about Ming, he may be sort of dense and glossing but he isn't
disagreeable. I think I can get what I want out of him -- which
isn't much and won't be for much longer.
The Glucometer Elite is a geek's dream if the geek has to be a
diabetic. The test strip you bleed on is a tiny printed circuit
card! The dot of blood becomes part of a bridge circuit. How
well the sample conducts is measured and converted to a medically
significant number and displayed on the liquid crystal display.
Unfortunately the printed circuit-style test strips cannot be
washed and reused. They are a bit more expensive than some other
types but I plan to use less than two dozen in a month's time.
This morning I ran a Glucometer test side by side with Nursypoo's
test for this place's records. I let my little test strip suck
up what it wanted first because it takes the least red of any
machine. Her strip could have the leftovers -- HAHAHAHAHA! Mine
is easier and faster than hers. Mine really does suck it up.
You can almost hear the . This is the kind they should've
bought for this place when they changed meters a while back.
Franny usually sits in her tardchair by the other nurse's
station. She naps most of the time. Old people sleep a lot.
She recognizes me when I come by and she reaches out. I let her
hold my hand. It sort of reminds me of Goddammit Lady. Franny
takes my arm and folds it up into hers so my fist is under her
chin, just as though my appendage were a tiny baby. She's very
affectionate and wants to kiss me. She habitually extends her
lower lip and tongue. If she ever "got" me, I'd sure stay
kissed.
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