I was visiting Mike Rogers's website yesterday and found out that the New Life Church in Colorado, Ted Haggard's former "boy farm," had appointed itself a new pastor. That's him, Brady Boyd, over there.
Looks straight as an arrow, doesn't he?
If, like me, you thought that all BAC/Fundie churches are run by a bunch of fat, bald, ugly old men, why not drop by the New Life's website and check out their Personnel Roster.
As my buddy Steve Schalchlin might say, "They're the gayest gays in Gayville!" I don't care if they are married with children, I can smell some of their "eau de queer" wafting through the internet. And my gaydar is not the best.
But they're not the little pricks I was thinking about in the title of today's blog.
My Endocrinologist, Dr. Mengele, recently ordered me to do a marathon glucose monitoring test. I have to check my blood sugar 8 times a day (including one reading in the dead of night) for 4 days running.
By the end of the test on Friday I will have burned through a month's supply of lancets and test strips. These are not cheap and most medical plans give you a ration of shit for "overusing" your usual 90-day allotment of them. So I had Dr. Mengele phone in a prescription for a short-term supply (50 of each) to my local Rite-Aid (formerly Eckerds).
This morning started day 3 of the test and based on what little I know about this disease I have, my readings look as though they're well within specs. Of the 18 readings so far, I've had a top-reading of 126 at 2:30 a.m. on Wednesday and a low of 91 at 11:00 a.m. on Tuesday.
My fingers are so friggin' sore I'll probably never play the piano again. Worse, it looks like I'm the stupidest junkie in the world, shooting up in my finger tips where everybody can see the puncture holes.
I'm grateful as hell that I have health insurance and doctors, but sometimes I sure wish they'd get a new hobby.
The little pricks.