Boredom

No job. No money.

I'll be working on my Web site.

Blogs of Note

The blog that got me started: Jen Patashnick's Oz Travels Fast

Greg Storey's Airbag

And the blog I'm not so sure what to make of, but it amuses me all the same: Kirk Thomson's What is happening to me?

Office Dispatch 11/19/04 9:13am

Typo: 13400 Fart Street
Correction: 13400 Fort Street

Comment: If there is a joke concerning geography and crude bodily functions, I am unaware of it. Feel free to send one along...

DO NOT DESPAIR

Check out this recent cover of The Stranger, Seattle's alternative newspaper.

Hope Amid the Gloom

Just a quick blog to let you know that there is hope out there! I was on hand to help SpeakOut Boston's Annual GLBTQI speaker training this weekend and I was just blown away by the level of committment the trainees had to making our world a more tolerant and accepting place for Gays, Lesbians, Bisexual, Transgendered, Questioning, Intersexed individuals and their families and friends.

A glimpse at the people who made this weekend so memorable:

Joe: An HIV+ HR specialist with a unique and touching relationship with his mom.

Barbara: An 84-years-young sister to a gay brother.

Henri: The FTM speaker who everybody had a crush on (including me).

Bill: The SpeakOut veteran who kept my kids entertained.

Markeda: An African American lesbian who came all the way from Appleton, Wisconsin just to attend the training.

Leo: A PFLAG member with a powerful story to tell about standing up to bullies.

Marjorie: The tough cookie who impressed me from the very beginning and proved to be an absolute natural at story-telling.

...and Romel: The youngest of the group, he held his own with this formidable bunch, and I expect great things from this young man!

On Cysts & Politics, Part 2

Everything was fine until I saw the probe.

But even then it wasn't so strange, considering the things I've put in that part of my body. It looked like a souped-up dildo. Only less fun.

Much less fun.

While the technician apologeticly maneuvered the, um, device, I stared at the ceiling, amused with the situation. If she only knew.

For those of you who have never had a pelvic ultrasound, count yourself lucky. I can't say that it's the most uncomfortable procedure I've ever had (or am likely to have in the near future) but it is definitely up there on the list of things I'm not too keen to repeat in the near future.

So it was determined by a breezy young doctor at the hospital that I indeed had a cyst on my left ovary and that it had ruptured. Gross. It is what they call a hemorrhagic corpus luteum. Fun stuff. Basically, blood and fluid are squishing around my abdomen, and as blood is an irritant, it is causing me pain (much like a nasty bruise). Unfortunately, there is nothing anyone can do about it. The pain and bloating will go away on its own. So they say.

By Tuesday night (11/2) I had had enough. Though I had been taking naproxyn sodium, it was doing nothing for the pain, and I was just about beside myself. I helped JLew make baked ziti for our visit to the gaybors that evening, but I was practically doubling over in the kitchen. Thank Goddess for JAZ, because as soon as I got over there she handed me some Tylenol 3. Bless her queer heart. I staked my claim on the Lazy Lady, slapped on the heating pad and I was good to go.

Thus I spent election night stupid on pain meds. Which, all things considered, was not a bad state to be in. I found my mouth hanging wide open on more than one occasion, and it wasn't because of election results.

Mourning in America

Excerpted from this week's Boston Phoenix editorial:

George W. Bush may have won the election, but he is not our president. Before homegrown American anarchist Joe Hill was executed by firing squad just before the US entered World War I, he shouted, 'Don’t mourn, organize!' The battle continues.
[bold added -JB]

Also...please take a moment to look at an image I've found online. This one photograph sums up everything I fear in American society.

On Cysts & Politics, Part 1

Over the past few weeks, I'd been having this very unusual sensation in my groin area. But it was on and off and didn't bother me much until last Wednesday evening, when this sensation came on -- and did not turn off.

It bothered me enough to call my OB-GYN on Thursday even though I risked sounding like a complete wacko. I mean, just imagine, "Yes, hello. What do you recommend I do about the tiny buzzing alarm clock up my ass?" They could've ordered that I to go straight to McLean. But I swallowed my pride, and in between repeated statements that began with "I-know-this-sounds-crazy-but" , I described my symptom to the nurse on call. Not surprisingly, she was completely stumped. Take Motrin she said.

I got no sympathy from JLew -- which is to be expected. She did live with a hypochondriac for ten years.

By Friday afternoon I was about to go out of my fucking mind. This sensation was now radiating down my left leg, and at one startling point, down my left arm. Panicking, I called my GP and described the symptoms. She was stumped as well, but her guess was that I had an "atypical migraine event." As it was after 4 o'clock on a Friday afternoon, she suggested I go to an emergency room and have a nuerological exam. Knowing that a trip to the ER would cost me money that I don't have, I decided to just go home and tough it out.

On Saturday, I vegged on the the couch watching TV. No pain, no problem, though the vibrating sensation continued.

I was determined to be active on Sunday, mostly because Jane would not have forgiven me for staying on the couch another day. We ran errands and did chores around the house. Still, the sensation continued, but it was now accompanied by pain and tenderness on my left side. I came to the conclusion that what I was most likely experiencing was a cyst. Knowing that I had to take my stepdaughter to the eye doctor the next morning (which happens to be in the same town as my GYN and GP), I decided to call my GYN and try to get seen right away.

Fortunately, there was an appointment available after Soapy's eye exam. Always a good sport, Soapy came along and sat patiently in the waiting room while I was poked and prodded. While the doctor didn't feel a cyst, she still recommended bloodwork and a pelvic ultrasound at the hospital.

Never having had a pelvic ultrasound, I didn't know what to expect. Silly me, I thought it was just a regular ultrasound that focused on my pelvic area. Ah...no. Like a johnny-clad lamb to a slaughter, I was led to my doom...