3:13 p.m. - 2005-06-03
Fancy-ass entry title
Last night, I finally drove up to Dayton and hung out with Cliff and Lisa while Cliff ran the karaoke at Cadillac Jack's. Lisa and I played darts. Since I was driving, I had to stop drinking way early, so she kicked my ass a few times (completely by accident). I did win the last game, though badly humbled.
A lot of country was sung, a lot of songs in general were butchered, and I didn't do any of it. There's only one song I'll sing on karaoke, and no one's ever had it: "I Spent My Last $10 (on birth control & beer)".
There was much entertainment in the besotted karaoke room last night. One girl sang "Something to Talk About", which was, evidently, the favorite song of another woman (we'll call her Grindy). As soon as the song came on, she leaned forward on her barstool and mustered the loudest WOOOOO - it was also picked up on the mic - I've heard from such a tiny person. Then she got up and started grinding against the girl who was singing. When the song ended, she went back to her barstool, but not to sit. No, that woman didn't stop grinding against things (stools, tables, people) for 45 minutes. Or longer, maybe, because that's when I left.
Grindy even liked David Bowie's "Space Oddity". A lot.
It would be cool if we could get a commuter train between Dayton and Cincinnati, like Toronto's GO Train. I-75 is boring as hell at 2am. At least the highway patrol up in Montgomery County have pretty light sprinklers. I passed a couple of them on 675. It's like there's a purple in there, too, not just red and blue. It reminded me that I wanted to get one of those disco light-up antennas for my cell phone.
Today, I donated blood. Er, I donated double reds, which just means that they took my whole blood, spun out the red blood cells, and gave everything else back. If you've ever donated plasma, it feels the same, with the cold chills and tingling lips and everything. And since I got back my plasma (looks like beer) plus some saline solution, I'm actually more hydrated than when I walked in there.
A little anemic, though.
Next time, I'm gonna do apheresis (donating platelets). I'm not allowed to donate anything for another 16 weeks, though.
And to anyone willing to listen: it's summertime, which means that drunk people will do stupid things that will result in them losing blood and needing transfusions. If you're not afraid of needles, please donate blood or blood components.
They gave me a nifty pamphlet about blood components today that kind of personalizes the blood-donation experience. For example, I'm type A+, which is very well suited for platelet and plasma donation (also AB). Types O and B should do the double red blood cell donations (like I did today).
Blood component donations might be more convenient for some people - for instance, the double red donation I did today is perfect for people who can't get around to donating whole blood every 8 weeks. This process can only be repeated every 16 weeks.
I already marked my calendar for the next time I can donate, and I'm going to make an appointment to give platelets this time (apheresis). Since I'm not afraid of needles (today I found out that they used a 17g needle!), that will work out fine for me because you can donate platelets more often. One apheresis donation is equal to the platelets contained in 6-8 whole blood donations.
Donating blood saves lives. Trauma, cancer, leukemia, surgery, anemia, and organ-transplant patients need blood. It's not like writing a check to charity. They're not going to do anything else with your blood. It'll go directly to hospitals, where it will be used.
And you get cookies. When was the last time you got a cookie? People often tease you with the cookie, but do they ever follow through with actual cookification? No. It's just, "Ooh, you showed up for work on time; you want a cookie?"
At Hoxworth, you get the damn cookie. Hell yes.
Stepping back down off the soap box...
And for the love of all things holy, can someone please tell me what a Hollaback Girl is? Gwen Stefani defiantly (and repeatedly) asserts that not only is she not a hollaback girl, but that this shit is bananas (b-a-n-a-n-a-s, in case you were going to try to spell it some other way). These two pieces of information are not helpful to me.
At what point does a public conversation get absurd? I overhear people talking all the time in public, but how come some conversations are just so fucking stupid...? Case in point: I'm wandering about the Pottery Barn or Old Tyme Pottery or whatever the hell that quagmire of household crap is up the road. Somewhere around aisle 50, I pass a woman talking to her companion, who is a blessedly silent guy. So while I'm gazing at dish towels, I overhear this:
"Oh my GAWD, look at this!" [clang]
(I look over and see that she's picked up a stock pot)
"This is just...I mean, look at it! Amazing. That's stainless steel? Whoa. Wow. Incredible. It's made of stainless steel, you know."
See? Absurd.
Now, I know that pots can be made of different materials, but for me, it's not that much of a stretch to think that a really basic stock pot can be made of stainless steel. It's like she was pointing at a tree and gushing about how it was made of wood.
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