Philip and I went to see Dr. Ott again for our check-up relating to the auto accident we suffered in early January. Philip's injuries are healing a bit slower than mine, so he has to do more physical therapy. I've improved more (it's all that self-therapy in the hot-tub of Le Club) so I'm released from physical therapy, but I still have to do neck stretches at home. And our low-carb diet has produced signficant results. I've lost one pound. Philip has lost five! Mine must be turning to muscle or somethin'...

I worked at home most of the day.

I called the distribution company that is now two weeks late with my last check. Again, no one that could help me was in the office. I was livid... but I'm powerless to do much from here (they're up North). So I'm just gonna start calling them early Monday morning... and I'll stay on the phone 'til I get some answers. It honestly makes me sick to my stomach... I shouldn't have to beg for my check... and those unprofessional ass-holes should actually return some phone calls. I could go on and on about how they've broken my trust... but it would serve very little except to get me angry. So, I'll just distract myself.

When Philip got back from the renovation house, he and I did a little more shopping at Sam's.

We watched SWEENEY TODD: THE DEMON BARBER OF FLEET STREET IN CONCERT on dvd from netflix.com. It took my mind off of the fact that my big check is two weeks late. Ooops, I wasn't gonna think about that anymore, was I?

I had a day-dream of a cute, young, smooth, slender guy with brunette hair and Eastern European features who let me rim, suck and fist him. I got my fist further into him than my fist has ever gone before (and I've fisted some professional pig bottoms in my day). That was awesome. I wonder if it'll ever come true. Most fist bottoms that I've met tend to be older. Surely there must be some younger guys into that. I guess time will tell...