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Zero Net Gain
The telephone rang Wednesday night, Les answered.
It was the "Sylvia" with Red Cross calling to tell Leslie that she has "really good blood". Seems her blood is "SO good in fact that it's THE preferred blood that they give BABIES in need of blood!" Sylvia mentioned something about it's high in a certain CSV whatever factor that makes her "blood extremely resistant to infection AND disease!" And if she will come in and donate this weekend, her "blood will save THREE babies!"
Leslie bought it hook, line, and sinker.
She was glowing with pride as Sylvia went on and on about how wonderful it is to find someone with such rare, pure, blood. At one point I overheard Leslie say "WOW! Ya know, that makes SO much sense! I never get a cold or the flu. I mean yeah, I get weird stuff, but never do I get a cold!"
By "weird stuff" I was wondering if she was thinking about the time her uterus fell out and rolled down the driveway. Maybe not.
Sylvia had accomplished her mission. She had talked my wife into scheduling an appointment to give blood. Soon as the phone conversation was over, Leslie turned and started bragging about her "pure blood". She was beginning to sound a bit Aryan about the whole thing, and I was getting kind of skeeved, but I kept quiet.
Less than a minute later, the phone rang again. I answered.
What do you know, it's Sylvia with the Red Cross.
Only this time she wanted to tell ME about the purity of MY blood. And how many babies MY blood would save.
After having a good laugh at Sylvia's expense for being slack ass and using the same bullshit line on me that she used on my wife, I agreed to donate blood at same time that Leslie had scheduled. Two for one, so to speak.
Fast forward to 11am this morning.
We walked into the Red Cross facility. "Heme Central" as I like to refer to it. We're greated warmly by the nurses (vampires) as we're filling out the appropriate paperwork. Then seperately, we're quickly taken back to go through the pre-screening workup. Pulse rate check, blood pressure check, finger stick to check the iron in our blood check, then the verbal questionnaire:
"Have you ever had liver disease?" "No."
"Have you ever been diagnosed with Aids or HIV?" "No."
"Have you ever had a tattoo or body-piercing?" "No."
"Have you ever lived in Gabon or central Africa?" "No."
"Have you ever exchanged sex for drugs or money?" "No."
"Have you ever been diagnosed with Mad Cow disease?" "Huh? No."
You get the picture. There was at least thirty questions. I must've passed because within a minute of answering "No." to the final question, I was sitting in a barcolounger watching "My Cousin Vinny" as Matilda the nurse (vampire) was bathing my left arm in Betadine.
"Ok shugah, gimme a squeeze." Matilda said.
"Dang Matilda, I barely know you. I mean you're hot and all, but my wife is just behind that door." I said (quit rolling your eyes, she was well into her fifties.)
"Oh quit it. I was tawkin' 'bout that squeezy in ya hand. Mistah thang!" She said with a Louise "Weezy" Jefferson styled laugh.
So I'm sitting there bleeding, and making small talk with Matilda. After several minutes I realize Leslie has yet to come out and bleed. I look around, finally I asked Matilda if Leslie is still in the exam room. Matilda motions toward the front of the facility and tells me that "she's sittin' up front, don't look like she's givin' blood today."
Then I asked Matilda "Can you find out if it was the 'Have you ever exchanged sex for drugs or money' question or the iron test that got her kicked out?" Matilda howled.
After I had been "drained" and bandaged up, I walked over and got a juice and a handful of peanut butter cookies and took a seat at one of the tables. Resting up like Matilda told me to do.
Leslie came over and sat down with me.
Les: "Swipe a pack of those Famous Amos cookies for me."
Les: "You look so much better-- happier even, now that you've given."
me: "Yeah. It's a spiritual thing. You know I just saved three babies."
Les: "Yep. And I just killed three."
11/27/2004 10:52:46 PM
Dilemma
To break out of my lazy, college football watching, napping, cookie-eating, couched, self to write a real post or roll over and watch a movie.
Dang. The movie won by a nose.
11/27/2004 08:24:47 PM
Norman Rockwell, where are you?
I made it through all of the Thanksgiving "goodness" I could stand. Tranquilizer free!
Actually it wasn't that bad. I didn't overeat (unless you consider eating half, yes half, of a carmel-chocolate-peanut butter-cheesecake overeating).
My dad and I had a chance to reconnect. We've been out of touch now for several months, even though we live just a couple of miles from each other. At one point, as he was showing me some new gadget in his shop; I thought to myself, he and I were like two little kids, playing around in a treehouse... Buddies.
Anyway, today while the girls are out shopping, I'm roadtripping. If I'm lucky, it may even turn into an overnighter!
11/26/2004 07:32:32 AM
Fire. Arm. Safety.
When RZ was little I did what most fathers do. I tried to teach life lessons. At the same time her school, as well as her after school daycare were drilling these little life lessons into her too.
One day After seeing in the news where a kid had gotten shot by another kid when they were playing with a gun they had found. I decided I would try to impress on her the danger of guns.
I explained to her the damage a gun could do and how truly sad her mother and I would be if anything ever happened to her.
After really hyping the point, I decided to present her with a possible scenario that she could face. A scenario where she would have to make a decision as to what she would do in the event one of her friends found their dad's gun and started playing with it.
me: "Ok. Think about this. You're over at Liz'bet's house."
rz: Attentive. Eyes wide.
me: "You and Liz'bet are playing in her parents bedroom."
rz: Focused. Unflinching.
me: "Then Liz'bet wants to show you something. She reaches in to a drawer, and..."
me: "...and pulls out..."
me: "She pulls out a gun! What'dya do? What WILL you do?
And without hesitation she says:
"Stop. Drop. And Roll. Stop. Drop and Roll, dad."
I realized my kid was information overloaded.
11/24/2004 03:20:16 PM
Bored. Games.
All
11/20/2004 06:23:45 PM
Another Sign of the Apocalypse
Did you know you can buy a casket.
Online.
At Costco.
"Choosing a casket is a very personal and important decision. Families should choose a casket based on their own preferences and the personality of their loved one."
So what does this say about someone's personality if you're getting their place of eternal slumber at a online discount store?
"Yeah poor Valencia, she fought a good fight. Hated to see her go... That cheap, lazy bitch."
(thanks for the link Chris)
11/18/2004 10:38:43 AM
Flickr Thing >>>
I'm trying out the Flickr Badge thing over on the right side, let me know if it breaks your "Internets".
11/17/2004 10:57:56 PM
'scuse me
RZ and I went shopping Saturday to buy her a pair of hightop sneakers. Of course because only the outlandishly cool, and tragically hip, kids are wearing them now.
They are truly a must have. I know, because I too have a pair, albeit not outlandishly cool or tragically hip. Just black "Chuck Taylors" (no flames).
But anyway, on our drive home we're quiet. A happy quiet.
RZ breaks the quiet by making these really weird noises:
"Bwaour. Waaarirreee. Raraannnnaaarriourrr."
Followed by a pronounced " 'scuse me while I kiss the sky!"
I look over at her. She looks back at me. Without blinking, and without breaking her stare she cranks in again, "Bwaour. Waaarirreee. Raraannnnaaarriourrr. 'scuse me while I kiss the sky!"
"Where'd ya get that? That's Jimi Hendrix." I say.
"I heard 'm on the radio. He's pretty good with the guitar... I like his work." She says bluntly.
We drive a bit further. Quiet, interrupted by the occasional "...'scuse me..." riff.
Finally I say "Do you realize you just pegged the all time coolmeter, pegged it all the way to 'ELEVEN'!"
"Can't." she says, still staring.
"Can't? Why not?" I say.
"It only goes to ten."
---
So maybe the "Spinal Tap" referrence was a bit of a stretch. But at least she realizes that Hendrix was "pretty good with the guitar."
She may be a cheerleader, but inside there's a heart of a rocker!
P.S. - I need to clarify that she wouldn't be caught dead in hightops with flames. As she puts it, "...those are for posers."
11/16/2004 05:29:28 PM
I am so dead.
As stupid as this may sound, this is one of my favorite pictures of Leslie. I took it back in July when we were on vacation. Even through the wacked fish-eye lens perspective you can tell that all is right with her. A sister over one shoulder, daughter over the other shoulder, the only thing close to killing her buzz is having to reset the timer on the hotub. If you know my wife, you'd agree that this image shows her in true form.
I'm going to be in so much deep shit when she sees this.
P.S. FYI - She doesn't look like this in real life, the lens is making her appear out of proportion.
P.P.S. - I don't know where those bubbles came from... The hotub shut off at least 15 minutes before.
11/11/2004 11:20:42 PM
Euphemistically Speaking.
"Do the Hootus."
I just felt the need to type that 'cause Leslie hates it when I say it.
Now with that being said, um I mean typed:
Do the Hootus. Do the Hootus. Do the Hootus.
Sorry Les.
Really.
11/11/2004 07:39:57 PM
Rare.
"Well Hi!" the lady at the door says. "I hope I'm at the right place" I say. "You are! I'm Natalie." she says. "Hi I'm Nata... No wait, You're Natalie. I'm Mark." I say as I walk in. Crap. I haven't even gotten in the front door and the damned social phobias are pegging the meter. And so starts a very surreal night. ---
Actually it started a couple of months ago when I got an email from Scott-San telling about a potential blogger meetup. "Sounds great." I wrote back. I wasn't sure I'd make it, quite frankly I was more sure that I wouldn't.
You see, I'm an anti-socialite. Not anti-social, I just do "meet and greets" about as well as Charlie Brown does porn. I have the social graces of a leper with tourettes.
But, honestly the meetup thing did sound great. Not sure why. Now it's Saturday, the day of the meetup. I drive to north Atlanta, not knowing what to expect. Actually not knowing anything or anyone for that matter. I had told my friend BigFunny about the meetup earlier and he reminded me of the basement scene from Silence of the Lambs--"It puts the loh-tion in the bah-sket."
Man, I hate realists.
---
So the meetup is underway.
I've gotten through the front door, and several awkward moments of silence. I decide that staying quiet and flying under the radar is my safest course for the night. Not as if there was much of a choice.
Right off I notice how easy everything is falling into place. Conversations, laughs, friendships. I have a couple drinks and start to relax. I've met most everyone by this point and can remember each person's name--a rarity. It's odd, it's like I KNOW these people. Comfortable. So comfortable in fact that while I'm sitting on the couch watching Kill Bill with Julia and Snowy I doze off a couple of times, only to wake myself up and do a quick freakout each time to make sure I don't have drool ropes hanging. Later on after the drinking, the games, the drinking games, the food, the happy birthday song, late in the night we're all sitting around talking. CW suggest that each of us read a story from our blog. The man is a genius. I can't describe how incredible it was hearing each of these writers, telling their stories in their voice. For me that was worth every bit of anxiety to be there. Although I hadn't kept up with everyone, I had read something from each at one time or another over the past couple of years. After the stories and more conversation, things wound down. It's around two in the morning. Thankfully for me CW had invited me to crash there. And after I got my ass beaten to a quivering, bloody mass several times over on Dreamcast's Soul Caliber. I do just that, I crash.
I wake only a few hours later. The sun is shining, but the room is still dark. While lying there I had to convince myself last night happened. It actually happened.
---
CW, Mrs. CW, Scott, Michelle, JAB, Styro, Snowy, Larry, Julia, K, thank you for your warmth, your friendship and for sharing an incredible time. It's rare when you meet somebody for the first time and immediately know you like them. It's amazing when you meet an entire group and feel that way.
Now before this post gets any more fireside kumbaya-ish, I need to go stir fry a puppy.
PS - Pictures and more pictures.
11/8/2004 08:31:26 PM
Not far. Not far at all.
I'm in the kitchen on the phone last night.
RZ walks in, get's a glass, goes over to the icemaker and switches it to "crushed".
The person I'm talking with asked "what was that?". I tell her and agree that it's noisy.
After RZ's glass fills up, she looks at me and calmly asks, "So what, d'she think I was grinding puppies?" Then she rolls her eyes and slyly walks away.
"My God. She didn't fall far from the tree." The voice on the line says.
As I beam with fatherly pride.
11/4/2004 02:27:04 PM
Dr. Freud. Paging Dr. Freud.
If you misspell a word when you're leaving feedback and don't catch it until after you hit "submit" do you go back and try and make it right or just not worry about it?
Ok, what if you misspelled the word "can't"?
As in you slipped up and typed the wrong vowel.
AND forgot the dang apostrophe.
11/3/2004 11:03:21 PM
No 3D Glasses Required
Tired of seeing red and blue?
UberColor
Some you may have seen before, others probably not.
11/3/2004 01:05:22 AM
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