Last week, while going to the supermarket, I stumbled upon one of those blood donation vans. There was some portly dude in shades trying to lure me with Marlins tickets into handing over my hard-earned blood. Being overdue for a donation, I let him pretend he was a good salesman and agreed to enter the van.
One of the blood-taker girls was about to leave for the day when she asked to look at my veins. Nodding and “mmm-hmm”ing like she had her choice of men at La Bare, she asked my blood type (O+). She was extra-satisfied at this response, knowing that most people can receive O+ blood.
I think she was a vampire.
They asked me to do a double red blood cell collection, which takes longer and makes me ineligible to donate in four months rather than two. I agreed, and they were kind enough to give my plasma and platelets back.
I was actually slightly light-headed afterwards, which is unusual. And will probably affect me breaking a 13-minute mile in the near future. But it saved someone’s life, and I got two free Marlins tickets and an apple juice.
I fail at chess.
Two Wednesdays ago, I played a USCF-rated game for the first time in months. I managed only a draw against a 3rd grader, rated 1180. (Grats to him; no one below 1300 has managed a draw against me before.) He vaguely resembled me as a kid and used a MonRoi, which completely threw me off psychologically. At least that’s the best excuse I could come up with.
He seemed about as tactically aware as I was, and was really eager to exchange off his Knight for a Bishop. He never generated any real threats, but I wasn’t good enough to hurt him. Need to post this game later.