Bad blood

I used to donate my blood to both the red cross and united blood services regularly. Now they call me about once every two weeks, asking if I'd like to save 2 lives with just one donation. My blood is quite handy because it doesn't have some harmful virus that can kill babies or something. A lot of adults have this virus- it's totally benign to grownups, so you likely wouldn't even know if you were infected.

Anyway. I've never had it, so they're after me all the time to go give up a pint. It gets kind of old to keep turning them down lately with my poor excuses- nope, sorry, just got another tattoo. Have to wait a year. Woops, just went to a malaria area. Have to wait a year. Yikes sorry, I'm just plain defective and may pass this on to someone I'm supposed to be helping.

So when the red cross fella asked me just now if I could donate, I told him I'm not able to donate anymore. Which was easier than going into why. If you've ever donated blood, you know they ask a million personal questions: have you ever shot up drugs? Ever slept with a hooker? Ever been paid for sex? I wonder which he thought I'd done.

At any rate, no more blood donations for now from me. Hopefully you, reader, can go donate. It really does save lives. Plus, free cookies and juice!!!

Stoopid week

My week started off badly. Sunday night/Monday morning will go down in the history books of Tabbie for all time as one of the top 10 strangest experiences of my life.

Drinking turns some people into completely psychotic dick noses. I'm not going to go into details here because it's too much to put into writing. Maybe someday when we're sharing our 3rd bottle of champagne (or cap classique) of the night, I'll tell you the story. By then, it will be light-hearted and I'll toss in all of the things that make me giggle about it. I'll leave out the parts where I was afraid for my safety and the part where I thought a friend of mine was for sure about to produce a monstrous amount of puke and/or get arrested in Nevada.

After that night, my week got worse. The drunky drunk friend let some information slip that shouldn't have gotten out. Another friend of mine got her feelings hurt. I hate to see my friends hurting.

HATE it.

But there was really not much I could do about this. So I just sent out a warning signal to the other people involved in the mess that there was, in fact, a mess. And I backed off.

Now, I'm not sure where to turn next. It's like my ability to process friendship information is broken. I love every one of the people involved in this icky mess, but they don't love each other.

People I love are being mean to each other. I HATE this.

Also, there's no goddamned clock on this computer screen. It's some kind of bullshit when I can't even use a computer screen to tell the goddammned time. Fuck you, screen.

Wait. It's not the screen's fault that I'm pissed. Still, I hate this stoopid, worthless screen.

Rans

Again, my subject line won't change. Fine, subject line. You win.

In other news, random texts from recent hours:

I have a boomerang.

Exactly, very safe cept for rope burn.

I ran into ur twin in SF today. You are the evil one.

Bye bye baby, see u on the rebound!

Who are you and what did you do with my sister?

Are you back from that awful hippie event?

Have a stick-on bra, size c. C ya soon.

dontdon't

Ok so my subject line refused to cooperate with me.

In other news, for the last several days, I was insanely nervous that I was going to produce a child very soon. I was 5 days late for my period. This morning, my dreams of late night feedings and complicated parental relationships were shattered.

I hate the whole monthly visitor process. For a few hours, I was sure that I was going to simultaneously hurl on the floor of Walmart while losing control of my bowels in my pretty new dress. Not a fun time at all. Then I took some delightfully generic Ibuprofen and moved along to a baby shower.

I'm exhausted. Oh, my little sister got married yesterday. She looked amazing. Her husband beamed the whole night. I cried like a baby during the toasts and danced with a high school friend of my dad's. My little brother got freaky on the dance floor with great gramma, who is 97. She's still got the moves.

Tomorrow, I leave for a camping trip in the desert. Ugh. It's gonna be hot. Hot hot hot.

I'm ehxausted. Did I say that already?

Edit: a lady just stopped to tell me she really likes my dress. So glad I didn't mess it up earlier today :)