You would think that after the last blood drive they would know better than to put me in charge again.
They do not know better. Apparently.
I am also forever amazed at what level "inappropriate" becomes GET THE FUCK OUT. It's a higher threshold than you might think. Phlebotomists have a sense of humor yo.
Let's review the things you shouldn't say (re: shout with flailing arms) at a blood drive*:
"Give me your blood. I need it like WHOA."
"There's blood in your urine. What? That's not a urine bag? Crap. I think I'm using mine wrong."
"Should blood be this icky color?"
"IT'S ONLY A FLESH WOUND. GET BACK HERE."
"Your blood is leaking."
"SQUISHY SQUISHY BLOOD BAGS."
"I've got to uhn uhn run away, I've got to uhn uhn get away, from this tainted blood you've given..."
"Here, hold this so it doesn't spill."
"It's not that we don't want your blood. It's that we don't know where it's been."
"Here, let me prick you. WHERE ARE YOU GOING?"
*It should be noted that most of these were said by the phlebotomists. Not me. For a change. Phlebotomists know how to party yo.
Gas in the car? Check. Ridiculous amount of snacks you purchased when hungry? Check. Endless hours of music? Check. Fedora so yo...
Here's the thing. I've never done drugs. When I was a teenager I didn't see the appeal of it to be quite honest. But when I was ...
I spilled an entire cup of coffee on my couch this morning. As I stared at the sure to be stain that probably won't remove in its entire...