InASense, Lost… Gutter, Meet My Mind For Some Ice Cream

Ice cream treats and traffic jams and cute girls shouldn’t automatically make me think of dirty things, but I’m afraid my poor subconscious is beyond tainted.  It’s so tainted I can barely type the word tainted and not be derailed by horrible mental images.  Dear sweet Rachel Bilson, this is not the first time your visage has been intertwined with potentially distasteful acts on this site, but I do hope it is the last… unless it’s actually about you being intertwined with potentially distasteful acts.

(SIDENOTE: If that commercial seemed foreign to you – foreign as in from over there – it’s probably because it likely is.)

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Giving Blood And Having A Blast! (Or A Least A Cookie)

I had a mini-adventure of sorts last week when I donated blood.  Actually, it was boring as usual – I had to turn it into an adventure of sorts.

Upon arrival, I was greeted by a man in a wheelchair with his assistant, a Golden Retriever.  I’m all for volunteers of all kinds and equal opportunity, but should a dog be where I’m about to give blood?

They make you read these pamphlets before you can sign in.  I had just sa down when I stood with a question.  The gentleman behind the counter asked if I had finished, when it was impossible for me to have read anything.  Does this mean no one reads the pamphlet except me?

I arrived at the right time between rushes and was sent to the verification room (I guess that’s what it’s called).  On the survey, they ask if you’ve been outside the country.  Last August, I visited Europe.  The nurse/tech asked where I had been.  I answered England, France, and Belgium.  She asked if there was anyplace else.  I told her no.  I had been to Amsterdam, and though I was a “good boy” while there, I didn’t want to raise any flags on my donation when I know it can be used.  They check it anyway, don’t they?

When I arrived at the bench I would be resting for awhile, I overheard two of the nurse/techs talking about the clock which ran in military time.

Lady One: I can’t ever figure out the time when it’s like that.

Lady Two: Just remember that 13:00 is 1:00pm and count up from that.

These are the people about to stick a needle in me?

Speaking of needles stuck in me, as I was bleeding, I noticed a bubble near the top of the tube sticking out of my arm.  Hello?  Should an air pocket be that close to my vein?  Can’t I die if it decides to move against the current like a salmon, and entire my body?

Guys will do anything to get laid.

Guys will do anything to get laid.

Two things made me laugh while I stared out the window and bled. 

1) There was a product by AeroMed called Magnum Plus.   I thought they were latex gloves (turns out they’re nitrile), and therefore chuckle worthy. 

Um... I think I'm not going to touch this one.
Um… I think I’m not going to touch this one.

 2) They had St. Patrick’s Day decorations everywhere.  The Red Cross takes after my own heart!  (Literally!)

Afterward, I was pleased as punch that they had Chips Ahoy! cookies for me to snack on.  The volunteer stocking the tables joined me and we discussed the 73 year old guy who played college basketball.  She gave me another sticker to go along with the nametag the front counter guy gave me.

My blood type is B-negative, and my outlook on life might be negative, but for some weird reason that day – I had fun!

I wanna be like Ken Mink!

I wanna be like Ken Mink!

(SIDENOTE: Immediately prior donating my blood, I tried out for the role of the Wizard in a local theater version of “The Wizard of Oz.”  Stay tuned, as I may write more on that later.)