Real Love Is "Chuck And Larry"

I'm not talking about the love between two men, though I hear that is also a beautiful thing. I am talking about insurance fraud.

When I was in college and had the divine fortune of plush health coverage through my father's lousy, soul-crushing job, I used and abused the system as was my social responsibility and duty to my friends and lovers. The fact that I even had insurance was fraud in and of itself. I had been emancipated from my parents since age 16 or so and therefor didn't qualify as a dependent for benefits such as EFC (expected family contribution- toward tuition costs) or benefits like antibiotics and birth control. But a beautiful women at my father's HR department, who knew all about his family member's legal status, said something to the effect of, "Now that your oldest is enrolled full time in college, she should write in stating so and give us the name of her temporary fiscal physician."

When Dad went to correct her, she squeezed his hand and insisted that I should just send it to her directly. She did similar things with my sister who actually never went to college. Bless this woman. In her honor I shared and spread my insurance like an summer AIDS epidemic in Baltimore. (Too soon?)

Whenever my friends or boyfriend had a cough, scratchy throat, ran a fever I worked like an aspiring actor waiting tables in LA and infected myself with their malady. I became their invalid selves. Doctors, jaded with their own professions, typically wrote out scripts freely, especially when they learned that I also had a prescription plan and calculated their percentage of kick-backs from the pharma-companies. If they didn't and insisted that, no, they were positive I didn't have typhoid, tuberculosis, or RMSF (rocky mountain spotted fever) I usually stole supplies and samples in vengeance.

I collected Doctor's all over the city. This one would throw migraine pain killers at me, the other was always willing to call in refills for this and that... bless his heart. When they got suspicious, I moved on. Its what I did for my friends. Who wants to see someone you love all doubled over in pain and sweating' out a high temperature cause its either A.) go to the hospital or B.) keep your heat for another month.

The answer: my BFF. She always comes through. Damn, I love this girl! Even though she's unemployed right now and leaving for a cross-country weekend trip, girl spent hours on the phone yesterday calling her doctor and complaining my symptoms and then attempting a network of pharmacies to fill the coveted prescription. I still haven't gotten it yet, and its more expensive than usual but she saved me hundreds- literally hundreds- in doctor's office visit fees. Point is she committed fraud for me. And that is a beautiful, beautiful thing.

So, thanks Laura. Have fun on your trip. And hopefully upon your return I shall be of maximum health and we can go tear it up like the disastrous duo we're meant to be.

Oh, and fuck you, Duane Reade.