Giving Blood

It's not like giving blood is terribly uncommon, but I'm going to relate to you all my personal experience with it anyway. To those of you that haven't done it, take my story possibly as a warning.

Let's start with a little anatomy lesson. When you give blood, be prepared to sacrifice about half a liter. Is this a lot? If you're an averaged sized person, then no not really. More importantly though, will it fuck you up? Ha ha ha. Foreshadowing.


So I had made my appointment to donate blood one afternoon at the University of Maine. Incidentally, I was the typical lazy college kid, and my daily diet usually went as follows.


8am - Glass of orange juice, maybe.


10am - Nothing.


12am - Snack from the vending machine outside of class, maybe.


2pm - Nothing.


4pm - Small to medium lunch.


6pm - Nothing.


8pm - PUT EVERY CALORIE IN FACE.


This is basically the opposite of what every dietician/nutritionist/doctor will tell you is healthy, but whatever, it was college and I was a young high metabolism garbage disposal of a son of a bitch.


So on this day I had as usual woken up approximately 4 minutes before my first class and left no time for breakfast. Whatever, I felt GREAT. After class I skipped over to the place to give blood, like this:

Any excuse to use this picture.

While waiting to donate, I sat around forever. Then I got pulled into a little cubicle where they asked health related questions, like:

• Do you have AIDS?
• ...Are you sure?
• Have you had sex with anyone that has AIDS?
• Do you have hepatitis, or anything else? *coughAIDS*
• Have you participated in gangbangs/needle sharing/reckless drug use?
• Have you traveled to any countries lately? Specifically ones filled with AIDS?

So after convincing them I was fairly disease free, they tested my blood for proper iron levels by putting it in some liquid suspension and seeing if it floated or not.

 It sank like a fucking rock and I was cleared to go.

My blood.

Now the fun part! I hopped up onto the hospital bed, feeling a little anxious because I was about to watch a giant needle get stuck in my arm. I had never had a giant needle stuck in my arm before. Don't people sometimes faint from this? Is this going to hurt...forever? Well it stung for about a half of a second, and that was that. Phew. 


So at this point my blood was pumping away. After a short period of time, I felt a combination of lightheadedness, which I assume is normal, and extreme glee. I tried not to laugh, because I would have appeared crazy, but it was difficult to maintain my composure while thinking "Haha I am bleeding into a bag. On purpose." I thought if I didn't finish up pretty soon, I was going to look like this:

The whole ordeal lasted several minutes, but then I was done. Crisis averted. Then came some excitement, because you know, snacks.


That's right! To minimize negative effects caused by a sudden drop in blood sugar, they give you a bunch of sugary shit. Makes sense. So there I sat, munch munch, but it wasn't long before I started feeling peculiar. It was a mix of growing lightheadedness and nausea. I thought "eh, this is normal, be cool" but it was getting worse. I started getting nervous, so I pounded some apple juice and slammed down a bunch of cookies. Great plan! Maybe I thought my digestive system was going to distribute this food throughout my entire body immediately instead of digesting over the course of several hours like it usually does. Nope, still getting worse. I was pretty sure I was gonna pass out pretty soon, so I looked for a nearby nurse, hoping I could discreetly mention "hey I'm not feeling too well over here, what should I do?" but they were all busy with other people. Seeing no other option I said to some random dude next to me


"Hey man, I'm feeling dizzy as HELL." 


I'm not sure what I expected him to do about it, but luckily since I had told him at about the same volume as a jet engine, a nurse quickly rushed over to me, put me on a bed with my feet elevated, and put cold packs on my face. I felt fine almost immediately, so I told the nurse "Whoops, false alarm!....K....Bye!" But they wouldn't let me leave until I they were damn sure I was actually fine. Can't have blood donors passing out in the road on the way home I guess.




Fifteen minutes or so went by, which coincided with the first fifteen minutes of my next class. Welp, guess I wasn't going to that! I eventually flagged down a nurse and said "seriously, I'm ok, can I go?" She then looked at me silently for several seconds. I'm still not really sure what she was doing, maybe checking to see if my pupils were dilated or something? Do pupils dilate before fainting? 

So I sat there, waiting for her to you know, speak. Eventually she asked "are you ok?" And I said "...yes, kind of like I just mentioned." 


The nurse finally let me go, so I hopped off the bed and wandered off. I was fairly disoriented and still not feeling great, but I felt good enough to walk home without fear of passing out. Then, I slept. For the rest of my life.


So my story isn't all that unique I suppose, but remember kids, if you're going to donate blood, eat some god damn breakfast, don't be a god damn idiot. Like me.

The Day I was Trapped in the Bathroom

I told a story recently about a legendary dump. Well, here's another one.


It was early on Thanksgiving day several years ago. My grandparents and maybe a couple other folks had showed up and were having cocktails. I decided it was the perfect time to get a shower in, because things hadn't really gotten going yet. I didn't announce my shower plans to anybody, because you know, who gives a shit? 


So I went upstairs, did my thing, finished up, and in those few seconds between turning the water off and pulling the curtain back to grab a towel, I heard the door open. You see, our bathroom door was fairly unreliable during the colder months. The wood compressed just enough so that even if the doorknob wouldn't turn, the door could still sometimes pop open. "Fuck that lock!" I thought, and started sheepishly clearing my throat a few times, and shuffling around somewhat noisily.


No response.


No worries though, even if the intruder somehow hadn't heard me, I expected them to either 1) See the mirror fogged up, or 2) See my pile of clothes on the floor. Surely one of those facts would clue them in that someone was currently behind the shower curtain, silently hating them. Still, nothing registered. After hearing the unmistakable slightly labored breathing of my grandfather, it became clear why. He was hard of hearing, so of course he never heard me moving around or clearing my throat. As for not noticing the mirror fogging up or seeing clothes on the floor, I can only chalk that up to some as of yet undiscovered malevolent force in the universe. 


So at this point I'm still standing there in the shower desperately hoping he'd figure out I was in there. I suppose at this point I could've avoided disaster by just sticking my head out from behind the curtain and saying "HEY I realize the door popped open there, but the KNOB DID NOT TURN BECAUSE IT WAS LOCKED PLEASE LEAVE." But I froze. I guess I had assumed too much time had passed by then and he would've thought I was a weirdo for not saying something immediately. My only hope was to wait it out. It's not like he was going to take a shower right? Hopefully he was just taking a piss, and it would all be over in 30 seconds or so. As long as I stayed hidden and silent, I just might make it out of this unscathed. 


Well of course he wasn't taking a piss. Of fucking course he wasn't. I heard him sit down for a shit, so I quietly closed my eyes in a sort of resigned cheerlessness, and waited.


It was loud. It was putrid. It was legendary. 


It went on for quite some time, and all the while I'm standing there revolted, and yet somehow fascinated. Fascinated not only that a man was capable of defiling a room so swiftly and unapologetically, but also that I had ever gotten myself into this mess. 


We all do our best thinking in the shower, and surely now was a time for reflection. I started pondering my life up to that point, and then wondered where it would go from there. How would this scenario play out? The idea of me escaping undetected at this point became more and more of a distant fantasy, and a few thoughts bounced around my head.


"If he finds me here now, what do I do? How in ever living fuck am I going to explain myself?"


"I wonder if there are support groups for people that have also hidden in the bathroom while their grandfather took a shit."


"Hmm, what objects are close by that I can kill myself with?"


"I've ruined Thanksgiving."


After something like 15 hours, he finished up. I snapped back into lucidity, and felt a confusing mix of joy and fear. Joy that the end was near, and fear that this end might also be tragic. He walked over to the sink to wash his hands, the sound of each footstep thunderously echoing against my soul. He dried his hands, and then what's this?


He wasn't leaving.


No, the faucet turned off, but then he started traipsing around the bathroom. What was he looking for? A towel? No! They were right next to the sink? From the sound of it, he was just taking a whimsical tour of the bathroom. My heart sank when I figured surely this tour would include whatever was behind the shower curtain. Fear had overcome me. I was sure that he was seconds away from pulling back the curtain and seeing me standing there. I found a small amount of comfort at the thought that I had become such a hollow shell of a person at that point, that maybe he wouldn't recognize me.


I braced myself, hoping the shock of the sight of me wouldn't give him a heart attack. "Please do not let him find me." I thought. "Please let his curiosity become fulfilled before inspecting the shower. Please."


And just like that, he walked out.




And I wept..

One Year in the Books

So I've been at this for a year now. As there are probably more blogs than people, this makes me not special whatsoever. Still, after all my stupid articles, some of you are still reading (I assume), and I appreciate that. I'm normally not one to blow myself, but upon reflection, here are some of my favorites:


The Heart Attack Grill


I took a look at this infamous restaurant's policies and practices, and offered some unsolicited new slogans.


The Microdyne Days


I reminisced about a shitty job I had back in college. I talked about how it began, the crazy people I dealt with, and some things I learned along the way.


Grocery Shopping: I Hate It


Despite the fact that I should be thankful for having such an abundance of food a few blocks away, I was an asshole and chose to complain about it for trivial reasons instead, so hopefully it's at least a little funny.


Oatmeal: Pointless


I enjoy oatmeal at least a couple times a week, but for some reason decided to shit all over it because of its boringness.


The Formative Years


Because of how handsome/successful/stylish I am these days, you may have a hard time believing how fucking stupid I looked back in my younger years. Either that, or you look at how fucking stupid I look now, and upon reading this think "well that makes sense."


The Platypus, Why?


What a stupid piece of shit waste of a fucking animal. This article goes a bit more in depth than that, but that's the basic idea.


The Horror of Bengay


Apparently putting bengay on your balls is kind of a thing on the internet, but before any of my friends or I knew about that, we all tried it with hilarious/horrifying consequences.


More Public Transit Gripes


Here's one article from my series of complaints about dealing with public transit. Obviously I'm grateful that it exists and life would be a huge pain in the ass without it, but that doesn't mean I can't still talk shit.


Some Things I've Figured Out


Here's a list I wrote that will convince some of you out there that don't know me very well that I am slowly but surely becoming an adult. Don't be fooled though, watch: LOL FART!


Let's Talk About BREAKFAST CEREAL!


Here's a completely random article that illustrates how sometimes I can take a silly idea and run with it, often turning what was once a mere pointless observation into a big long pointless article. But again, hopefully at least a little funny.


Journey to England Part I


Here's what kicked off my so far 10 part series about my trip to England and parts of Europe. I should probably getting around to finishing that..




So, there you have it. It might be fairly clear that writing is not my main thing, but I hope you're all enjoying the articles. If you haven't read some of these, enjoy and read some more!


LOL FART AGAIN.

Continuing Internet Vigilantism

Remember how before, I wrote about "facts" on the internet, and researched them to see if they were true? Well I'm gonna do that again.

Vigilante Dog

Nobody Knows who Invented Eyeglasses
Hmm, that doesn't seem right. We know who invented the cotton gin, and nobody gives a fuck about that anymore, so how can we not know who invented glasses? I know If I invented something that awesome I'd tell everyone immediately. 


Well actually, I bet that was the plan for the guy who invented them all along. He tried them out for the first time and thought "holy shit these work" and was so excited about finally doing something not useless that he had a heart attack and died. And by the time he was found he was just a skeleton holding a mysterious new invention. I picture two people stumbling upon his corpse:


"Whoa, what's this scary skeleton holding? Whoa coole, do you suppose this guy invented these things?"


"Yeah probably, who is he?"


"I dunno man it's just a skeleton. Skeletons all look alike."


"Ok, maybe he's holding a note with his name on it?"


"Well even if he was how would we knowe it's not someone else's name?"


"Shit. Wait, how do we know it's not a lady skeleton?"


"Good pointe. How can you telle?"


"I dunno check the relative width of their shoulders and hips or something."


And then they continued with their anatomy discussion and fuck if they every figured out who the person actually was. 


So is this "fact" just bullshit or do we really not know? 


Well, according to wikipedia, I think we've got it narrowed down far enough so that's good enough for me, let's move on. 


Oh and I couldn't find a suitable picture for any of this crap, so here's a bunny in midair.

Humans Swallow 7/8/75 Spiders in a Year/Lifetime
Ohhh boy, we've all heard this one before. Apparently the only reason we aren't covered in spiders all the time is because we move around? Like as soon as we fall asleep they come out of their hiding spots and say "let's go in that dude's mouth, and after it's pretty clear that we shouldn't be there let's get swallowed somehow instead of just crawling back out." Hmm, I dunno about that, and here's why:


First, like I've just illustrated, it seems like it's against a creature's best interest to crawl into the mouth of a sleeping giant that will kill them. 

Second, who's gathering this data? Did some dude wake up with a spider in his mouth one morning and think "well fuck me that probably happens 7 or 8 times a year!" If you think about it, the nature of this fact implies we're swallowing the evidence, which means the only way to verify it would be to videotape someone's mouth while they sleep every night for however long it takes for a spider to crawl in there. 


And finally, if it's based in fact, why does the amount vary so much 7? 20? 75? Every year? A lifetime? But hey I'll play devil's advocate and admit that I guess you can't rule out the possibility, because bugs can do some weird shit.


Well, with astoundingly little effort, you'll find the myth debunked here, here, and here and probably a million other places. Seriously, all you have to do is type "do we swallow spiders in our sleep" into google and you'll be flooded with sites screaming "no shithead"


So there you go. If I hear anyone else repeat this fact, go ahead and climb aboard the train to punch-town, next stop your face.

Some Beaver Dams are over 1000 Years Old.
Whoa. That's older than your mom. Who the hell figured this out? And how the fuck did they figure it out? And who the fuck cares? Did a guy watch a beaver damn get built, then when he was about to die he was all "wait, I gotta get someone to find out how long this thing hangs around" and so he told his son "hey man keep track of this" and so forth for generations? On top of that: even if you knew the age of the wood, how do you know how long the wood has been arranged into a beaver dam? Except for almost your mom, nobody is old enough to know this for sure right?


Well when doing my research, I stumbled across the following and kind of got distracted because it's god damn hilarious:

Apparently we've all been looking in the wrong place.

So instead of researching further I'll just assume they figured stuff out using some sciency combination of technology and and databases. They probably carried the one at some point too.




The Creature with the Biggest Brain in Proportion to its Size is the Ant
Yeah? Well they still seem pretty fucking dumb to me.

The Man that Took a Poo, and Almost Killed us All

I was listening to a podcast recently, where guys were talking about eating hot food and subsequently almost shitting themselves, and I got to thinking about poo stories, because I'm mature. One experience in particular sprang to mind after years of dormancy. I shared this experience with several of you out there, so let's take a trip down memory lane. 


And to those of you who haven't heard this story, enjoy. 

                                                                          

It was the high school senior trip, late spring of 2003 (Yup, I'm old). We took a few buses to York Beach, Maine. These weren't regular school buses, they were fancy "coaches" if you will. You know, the kind with toilets in the back. That will become important later. 


So, we all mucked around the beach and pier that day, doing some swimming, frisbee, checking out random stores and arcades, just hanging out having a good time. After exploring, the plan was for everybody to meet for lunch at the Goldenrod restaurant at a designated time. Yum! And instead of forcing us to pay for our lunches, the school graciously gave every last one of us a $20 meal voucher. 


Now, you might expect $20 to not get us very far. Perhaps it would pay for a sandwich and a drink, but if we wanted to get anything fancy, we might have to dip into our own pockets. Not so. Not even fucking close. 


Whoever was in charge of securing lunch funds must have not bothered to check the Goldenrod's menu ahead of time, foolishly having the same suspicions about the cost of a meal that I just highlighted above. Well, they certainly fucked that one up, because the staples of this menu included basic things like hot dogs, hamburgers, and grilled cheese at the un-fucking-believable prices of $2 $3 and $4. Some people were fine with ordering one or two things, content to just forfeit the rest of their voucher in an attempt to not get utterly fucking stuffed and feel like shit for the rest of the day. Not my friends and I! We were ready to take advantage, and stretch that $20 to the fullest extent of the law. 


Spectators likely watched in horror as everyone at our table started wolfing down three or four hot dogs each. Some of us also added a burger or two, or scavenged other's plates for fries or half of a grilled cheese. After eating far more than any humans ever should, we realized we all still had a few dollars left on our vouchers, and we'd be damned if we were to let that go to waste. So we got ice cream.

Must eat.....FOREVER... 

Little did we know, somewhere in probably a dark corner, a teacher with a digestive problem was also taking full advantage.


So finally, the gluttony ended. I've never needed to be escorted from a restaurant in a wheelchair quite as badly as I did that day. We were all miserably full, and instead of going back to having fun, we all collapsed on a pile of rocks near the beach in agony, calmed by the thought that soon our burden would be slightly lessened after what was sure to be a series of truly unforgettable dumps. After a period of time, one of us finally broke the silence and said "alright, that's it, who wants to come shit with me?"


And unforgettable it was. But the story does not end there.


We all piled back onto the bus, straight to the back near the toilet just in case any of us felt an encore performance coming on. Well, thankfully it didn't come to that...


For us...


So at this point we were all deep in the midst of our food comas, and probably about 90 minutes or so had elapsed since we left the restaurant. Well apparently, for the entirety of that 90 minutes, the teacher with digestive problems was becoming a vehicle for a foul hellish beast, soon to be furiously unleashed upon our poor unsuspecting bus. 


This guy, who shall remain anonymous, was normally a fairly slow mover. Not today. We all saw him arise from the front of the bus and lumber through the aisle with a haste that clearly communicated to everyone that this was a fucking EMERGENCY.


Now, at this point all of us in the back knew that we were in for some unpleasantness, but I don't think any of us were able to fathom just how truly awful it was to become. 


A ghastly silence came over us. For several seconds, it seemed as if maybe the door to the bathroom was in fact enough of a barrier to mitigate the stench to tolerable levels. Fucking, nope. SO WRONG. JESUS CHRIST I CAN TASTE IT. 


I cannot put into words how awful the stench was, but I'll try: Imagine if you were to compress all the shits anyone has ever taken in the history of earth into a box, then added garlic.


Some of the jokes thrown around I remember to this day:

• "Oh god I can smell it when I exhale."
• "He must've eaten rotting corpses for lunch."
• "This my friends, is the intestinal holocaust."

And the worst part was just how long we had to endure the awfulness. What we assumed was an initial burst of utter digestive failure that would slowly depreciate in repugnancy, was actually an ungodly force that seemed to gather strength from the objects around it. None of us could breathe. We would take turns testing the air one at a time, and for what must've been 15 minutes, there was no relief. People halfway up the bus were turning their heads in horror, only to see the dozen or so of us at ground zero with tears in our eyes. It was utterly fucking mind-blowing to us all that one person was capable of such a tragedy. 


He finally exited the stall and did the walk of shame back to the front of the bus, no doubt knowing that he had just achieved the dump that would soon leave the air, but never leave our minds. 

Weird or Crazy Work Shit

I haven't posted anything in awhile, mostly because I was in Maine for the summer. Well, no I guess that's not it. It's not like they don't have computers in Maine. I guess I didn't post for awhile because, I dunno, shut up. Anyway, I figured I'd bust back onto the scene with a few stories about weird shit I've seen at various jobs over the years. 


Guy Tries to Use a Fake ID, gets Piledrived.
...Piledriven? 


Well here's what happened. This suave looking motherfucker strutted into Tekserve one day while I was working up front. He told me he wanted to buy a computer. I signed him up for an appointment and then doot do do, off he went with a salesman. Several minutes later, he was pacing around the front of the store and asked me if I've seen the salesman he was talking to, because he was "taking awhile getting his computer". I checked it out, and it turned out the customer was using a fake ID. At Tekserve, we're wicked fucking awesome at spotting that shit so little did he know, when he thought he was waiting for his computer, he was really waiting for the police to arrive. 


A bit more time passed, and the brilliant rocket scientist of a thief put the puzzle together in his head and realized "they still have my ID. Hmm, don't people usually not need to keep that?" So he casually tried to exit. The security guard was all

So he tried to play it cool. 


And by play it cool I mean "leap over a wall past the guard but fall and then get smashed into the door when trying to stand back up and escape."


So broken glass everywhere, customers panicking, police arriving, and an attempted thief getting his ass thrown to the ground and cuffed. 


So remember kids, make sure the dude making your fake ID knows what he's doing!


Woman Almost has Heart Attack
The day started like any other day. I was wandering around trying to look helpful while not necessarily being helpful, and I got approached by a slightly older woman. She had complicated questions about how to properly sync her ipad and blah blah blah. It was early, so I wasn't quite in the "I want to get the fuck out of here" mode yet, so I actually try to explain how the process worked even though I could've easily sent her off to the department that more directly deals with that.


I quickly realized it was going to be an uphill battle because I foolishly assumed she knew what things like "files" and "computers" were. At one point, it seemed like we were making some headway, when she stopped and said "Ok, just give me a second, I just need to..." and she trailed off, closed her eyes and stood there silently.

Interesting..

I Assumed she just had a weird way of learning things and needed to silently contemplate everything I'd just said to fully absorb it, so I waited patiently. Shortly thereafter she rejoined planet earth and said 


"I have a heart condition, my heart was doing some weird things just then so I needed to make sure everything was ok."

Unexpected.

I had never really thought about what I'd say in the event someone randomly divulged a serious medical problem, so I just said "um...are you alright?" to which she replied "I think so." 


See, I was really hoping for a "yes" there, so then I had to start wondering if I was going to need to call 911 pretty soon. She told me she had medication, and since I wasn't really prepared to see anyone die, I almost blurted out "ok well then take some of that shit". 


That makes sense right? Why wait until your heart actually stops to take the medication? Well, thankfully she carried on fairly heart-attack free from that point on. The only other oddity was that at one point, her eyes started to tear up. Now, I'm not a doctor, but I'm pretty sure eyes water for reasons mostly unrelated to heart failure, so I relaxed a bit.


She lived. And eventually, I passed her ipad problems on to someone else because fuck that shit I was mostly making stuff up anyway.

Find Out Boss Also Films Porn in Office

So I had been working at this...music place we'll call it, for a little while. It was mostly with people my own age so it was a decent environment. The boss however was a german dude at least fifteen years older than all of us. He seemed nice enough, but I suspected there were some stories about him, and I had wondered for a little while how all the coworkers felt about him. Well after talking with a few of them, it came to my attention that the boss also occasionally filmed porn in this room behind his office.

Not his office.

Whaaaaattttt?

I thought maybe it was a joke, but no it most certainly wasn't. Not only did that perpetuate some stereotypes, it was fucking gross and weirded me out. But it didn't seem to bother anybody else, and it was pretty fun to joke about so fuck it. I guess it wasn't really any of my business what he did on his own time anyway. 

Then one day he sent me and another guy to take his car and go pick up a mattress for his office. It was very uncomfortable helping transport that mattress, knowing full well what it was going to be used for. It occurred to me that the boss was now in a way making it everyone else's business what he used that alcove behind his office for. I quit shortly thereafter. 

Guy Walks Around with Shit on Pants
This was from years ago while working at a scrap metal yard in Maine. A guy with shit on his pants you say? In a scrap yard you also say? Yes, I say. 


So yeah, it immediately makes more sense when you know the context. It wasn't like I was in an office building and someone walked by with shit on their suit. 

"Whoops. Had a bit of an accident.."

So this scrap yard job mostly involved local folks coming to drop off pickup trucks or trailers full of old scrap metal for us to weigh and sort so they could get a bunch of extra cash. I saw my fair share of unintelligible trailer trash, but I'd say most of the folks were just everyday people. 


But, like I just said, some of these people were all kinds of fucked up. They communicated in vague gestures and grunts, were missing teeth and were usually shirtless. One thing they basically all were however, was shitless. It makes sense, because you tend to learn pretty early on in life that walking around with shit on yourself is pretty unacceptable. Well this one diamond in the rough either never learned that lesson, or just didn't give a fuck about anything. He was a heavy set man probably in his 30s, with a gut hanging down over his elastic waistband cutoff gray sweatpants. I noticed a couple of my friends stifling some laughter in front of this guy, and I had just assumed it was because he was a big funny looking fucking gross dude. Then the man turned, and my friends pointed out his problem. 


Lovely. 


HOW DO YOU NOT NOTICE A BIG BROWN STAIN ON YOUR SHORTS?


Or maybe he knew it was there and thought "well, I'm not exactly trying to keep up appearances with anyone so instead of changing my shorts I'll just walk around WITH SHIT ON THEM ALL DAY. YES THAT SOUNDS RIGHT. I COME UP WITH BRILLIANT SOLUTIONS."