Happy Friday! I am stealthily moving toward not wearing my bite guard all ding-dong day. Apparently, one can even get bored of stress, given enough time and a hundred percent access to any kind of stress-inducing internet reading available.

I answered my summons for jury duty, but (surprise!) even the hastily modified service sign in page appeared deserted.

When I signed in all my names and numbers, I was marked ENDED according to my small box in the final page.

I also had a doctor’s appointment scheduled for today, and when the text reminder came on Monday, I called the office and asked if I could do one of those newfangled telephone appointments.

SURE! They said.

IT’LL STILL COST ME THE SAME? I asked, at once both delighted to copay not to go into some Typhoid Mary style den of cooties, but also like, Really? Eighty bucks for a phone call?

SURE! They said.

Yesterday, they called to remind me to be on standby at nine sharp, awaiting the doctor’s call.

WILL YOU BE THERE? They asked and there was this weird pause where I tried not to laugh because WHERE THE FUCK ELSE WOULD I BE?

The receptionist giggled and I giggled and said SURE! and we got off the phone.

Then she called back later in the afternoon, much less happy, and said she’d made a mistake, my insurance didn’t cover telephone appointments, so we couldn’t do it. And then things got awkward, because I was like, “But the doctor will continue to fill my prescriptions for me, righhhhhhttt?”

And she said, “Yeah, well it was my mistake, so I’ll send him a note and have him fill it for you this time,” sounding kind of forlorn, I suspect because now the doctor will not make money for the appointment.

I felt bad, especially because it seemed clear from the silence the doctor was still doing in-office appointments, and this triggered my guilty feelings about doctor heroism in these times, and being grateful he would be there for me if I needed to see a doctor.

But also: HELL NO am I going into see anybody if I don’t absolutely have to. I nearly suggested some wink-wink maybe set the appointment up, and I’ll miss it, and you can bill it as a no-show or something, but then realized if I am going to delve willy-nilly into medical insurance fraud, I’d best not start on the phone, that’s like Crime 101. So I just noped right the eff out of there, minimal regrets.

As I tried to hang up, she said, “You wanna set up your next appointment? You could do that!”

And I was like, LOL SURE. Throw a dart at a calendar! I’ll be there then!

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I completely binged TIGER KING over the past two days. In some respects, I felt the show told me more than I ever needed to know about the connection between Big Cat fanatics, polyamory, cult tendencies, questionable haircuts, meth, and murder. And yet….. I also feel it left me with so many questions. And they are all very inappropriate.

(NSFW language in trailer)

MILD: Does being self-described obsessed with Big Cats while also wearing a wardrobe/having a household décor exclusively comprised of Big Cat masks and skins and stuffed animals and tiger print clothes suggest merely an identification with cats, or do you think some/all of these people have come to see themselves as a bit catlike? Like actual cat people?

Part II, MILD not exactly a question: If you see yourself as a Big Cat/human hybrid, it’s not a huge jump to theorize you’d want a pride of your own, which kind of explains the polyamory thing. Maybe a stretch, but I could also see it playing into the cult thing as well; everyone submits to a dominant leader, traditional human rules don’t apply, etc.

MODERATE: since sex seems so strongly tied into the personality/lifestyle of this group of documented Big Cat lovers, what do you think is really going on behind closed doors? I can’t be the only person wondering. I mean, with those lion cubs carted around in suitcases in Las Vegas, clearly associated with sex parties. Do you think they are all straight-up pay-for-play, “I’ve always wanted to touch a lion cub! OK, thank you, bucket list checked! Now put those adorable fur balls in the other room and we’ll have sex.” Or is more co-mingled and fetishy? Are tiger cubs the new bowl of cocaine in the middle of the orgy?

TOTALLY DAMNED FOR ASKING: You think there’s actual bestiality going on? I couldn’t believe Joe Exotic pulled off his pants, mentioned his Prince Albert and gave us a gander at the wall of locks and the interviewer didn’t take that extra step and be like, YOU EVER DO IT WITH A TIGER, JOE?

I mean, COME ON. Do you even  reality TV, bro?!

OK, I feel I’ve said too much. Byyeeeee