Bloody blood

I gave blood yesterday. I try to give regularly. You are allowed to give blood every 56 days. 56 is an odd number to remember, so I just give blood every time Taco Bell invents a new taco.


So since they introduced the "Chinchadito" this week (meat on a tortilla) it was time to give.

I arrived at the blood center and realized it was EMPTY. Now, it was close to lunch time, so perhaps most of the donors were at taco bell getting a chinchadito. However, blood supplies are said to be low, so perhaps you should make an appointment yourself.

First they sit you down and ask you a list of questions that reads like a membership application for the KKK.

1. Have you ever, since 1977, been to Africa, the Dominican Republic or Cameroon?
2. Have you had sex with another man, even once, since 1977?
3. Have you traveled outside the United States in the past 6 months?

I'm not kidding. These are the real questions. You wonder why the Red Cross' logo is a 'red cross'. Red as in 'burning with FIRE'. Think about it.

So then they take you over to a cot and lie you down. The nurse introduced herself. Her name was Stella.
I immediately took out my cell phone and changed the answering machine message to say
"Hi, this is Guy Hutchinson. I can't come to the phone, because I am lying in bed and Stella is sticking a needle in my arm."

So, the needle went in. Stella started filling a 1 pint bag with my blood as I squeezed a plastic tube to help the blood flow. Throw in a dancing Hobo and Steve Martin with a pitchfork and you have my recurring childhood nightmare.

After they take all the blood, they give you a can of juice. The kind of can you haven't seen since grade school. A small metal can with a peel off top. Plus you get crackers.

This sounds like a good appetizer for a 3 chinchadito dinner.