Today the red cross came to my school and took blood. Now I don't have a problem with other people giving blood, but I don't give blood. It's mine and I like it right where it is. Sound selfish? Maybe, but i'm not into the whole puncturing my skin thing. Call me a wimp. Call we a wuss. I don't care.
The ironic part though is that a few people in my class tryed to give blood but couldn't. It wasn't that they flaked last minute, or that they had some kind of weird dissease. They just didn't have big enough veins. Yeah, go figure. And guess who has veins so big that his little sister tells him he should probably take medication for it. That's right. Your's truly. But then again, I'm not the one trying to give blood.
But it gets worse. My dad seams to think I should get a blood test. I know what that means. It means a needle big enough to fill the grand canyon going right into my arm, and then pulling out enough blood to...ugh. I don't even want to think about it. And for what? Just so that we know what my blood looks like under a microscope? Well no thank you. Like I said before, I like my blood right where it is.
However, on the off chance that I have to get my blood tested anyway I'm going to make sure they find out everything they can about that blood, cause I aint giving any more for a long time.
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