Monday, August 30, 2010

What's with the blood, Budd?

You know, somehow we always get on the topic of donating blood. Did you know that there are about 30 newsletters written here at JBUDD NEWS, and 3 of them are about donating blood! That’s 10%! That’s like TITHING! If anyone asks if JBUDD News pays tithing you say, “yes, in blood”
Anyway…

I don’t know WHY I want to get my blood out of me so bad, maybe it’s the high blood pressure. I always figured if someone has high blood pressure, shouldn’t the obvious remedy be to get some blood out of them? Relieve the pressure?


Anyway...
While I was having flash backs of past horror stories I heard the soothing word of one Bob Marley playing over the PA system:

“Don’t worry, about a thing, cuz every little thing, is gonna be alright!” I think they were playing that on purpose. They’re really just saying, “Don’t freak out, and flail your arms, cuz we don’t want your blood, on our lab coats!”

So the lady starts up again with the hocus pocus vein check… I think that I’m just hoping that magically my veins are gonna get bigger or something, like I’m in denial or something.

“I’ve got big veins! I can be cool too guys!”

For some reason this lady felt confident that she could do it. She stuck the needle in and it felt good. She started up the machine and we ran into problems. It wasn’t sucking enough blood… so she grabs the next labcoat lady next to her… and I’m starting to get dejavou as she starts twisting the needle around and making it HURT instead.

“THERE’S the problem, he’s not feeling any PAIN yet!”

SHE couldn’t get it, so finally they call MIKE over. At that point I’ve had enough. This is EXACTLY how the last one went and the third guy ALWAYS punctures the vein. So I threw in my towel.

But on the bright side… I still got the free t-shirt.


I found it a little funny. It reads, “TRUE Aggies bleed BLUE!” and it has some blue bull chasing a red U away… What are they trying to say? They’ve got freshman lined up on these beds trying to figure out where their loyalty belongs to. “TELL ME OH BLOOD WHICH SCHOOL I BELONG TO!!!” the blood starts pouring into the bag, the nurse yells out, “WE GOT ANOTHER RED ONE!” the kid yells, “NOOOO!” as the Student Body president wheels him out of the room and pushes him down the stairs. What do they plan on happening when they found the kid that bleeds blue?

“…YOUR KING!... we have found the true blooded Aggie!” everyone bows to the ground…

Don’t get me wrong, it’s cool to say you bleed blue, but when it’s a concrete situation where you are undoubtedly going to SEE the blood… We all know what color is REALLY gonna come out. You’re just gonna be crushing all the freshman’s dreams of ever becoming true Aggies.

“I’ll NEVER be good enough to be a true aggie!!!”

“Just give up and QUIT while you’re ahead BILLY, because you’re just gonna fail anyway… YOU YOU YOU YOU YOU SUCK!!!!”

The End.


(This next part is an old bit from a previous post that I don't want to lose.  So I'm putting it here instead.)

Physicals always scare me, cuz I never know what to expect…

“so… are you going to do the whole drop your pants thing or not… Just tell me now, so we can get the awkwardness out of the way…”

Its like dropping your date off at the doorstep, and there’s that awkward pause because both parties don’t know what the other ones expecting… he should just tell me at the beginning… get it out of the way. “You’re pants are staying on…” BAM done…

I figure that would have to be the most degrading job… checking guys for hernias… there’s no… COOL way to do it… you can never be SLY about it. I mean you’re going in for a serious violation! It’s a penalty! on the offense! 10 yards back man! Common! You cant just be like, “so how’s school going for you man?” then right before he answers, throw in the quick, “by the way can you drop the pants?” then continue the small talk… “OHHH… schools GREAAAT! … uh hem… ” it’s definitely a delicate time under that pressing situation. You monitor your responses very carefully, to avoid any 10 second violations…

“On a scale from 1-10 how do I stand?” I’ve always have wanted to throw that one out there… get some insights from him…
The only problem is if he said TEN, it definitely would make the rest of the interview awkward…

How many of you remember your first physical! You BET you do! That is a significant landmark in a boys life:


"I was Born, learned to walk, first day of school… got violated by some doctor… got married, had kids, died…"


Lucky for ME, I knew what was coming, but you know that SOME little Timmy wasn’t as informed.
We’ve been to the doctor many times prior to this! and everything was fine! they stick that light thing in your ear… YEP still got holes there! In my plasma physical, the guy shoved it up my NOSE! first time THAT’s ever happened to me… not sure what he was planning to see… just checking if I’m a regular picker or not. I guess that’s a requirement…

But eventually one of these physicals is gonna have a strange twist for poor little Timmy. He’s sitting on that little midget bed, laying on that scientifically engineered butcher paper that crumples at your every movement. Then little Timmy’s mom stands up and walks out of the room. He starts to panic. The door closes, and he turns his head abrasively to see the doctor eying him down with a grin… and the doctor turns to him and says: 


“Alrighty Timmy, your ears look fine… how bout we take off those pants of yours!”
Timmy’s world as he knows it, come crashing as if, to a boiling crater of lava…

The doctor’s office it’s kind of a scary thing. You’re in this small room… a bunch of strangers keep walking in and out. Checking the mighty clipboard of truth and justice… and giving suspicious glances at you while turning the paper intrusively, “REALLY… ew…” 


I’ve always wondered what they’re doing when they’re gone. Like there’s something seriously wrong with me, that they can’t just STAY and complete the exam…

“yeah… about that… I think I left something in my CAR!” 


You hear the tires squeal and look out the window to see the doctor driving away in his convertible laughing. Your clipboard papers are flying thru the air, eating the car’s dust…
It kind of scares me. Like I have something seriously wrong that they have no idea what it is. So they go out and talk with other doctors:


“he has what?”
“I think I’m going to be sick!”
They’re all in the back looking it up on WebMD.(tm)

I always thought it would be funny to play a joke on the doctor when he comes back in. He opens the door, and you’re standing on the table naked with the stethoscope…
“well… it seems to be… AAH!” drops his clip board
“oh, sorry… I was just… uh… never mind…” 

Monday, August 23, 2010

Cowboys and Indians, that racist little game...

Cowboys and Indians, what a racist game we teach our children. “Alright Billy, you’re a redneck cowboy from the dirty south, and Timmy you’re a savage Indian. You HATE each other! Can you feel the hatred?! FEEL IT! One two three HATE!! HATE DANG IT!!!!” and then they start beating up on each other –SMACK- -CRACKLE- -POP- as you casually walk away to get some rice crispy treats.

No better way to teach about racism than cowboys and Indians. The kids come inside crying all beat up.
“Now what did we learn today kids?”
“Cowboys are sons of a…”
“That’s right Timmy, racism is BAD. Now lets turn on the ‘I love you’ Barney tape, to wash the enmity out of you!”

Well that’s how I’M going to raise my kids… I’m not sure about you guys…

To me, cowboys almost make sense. They live where the sage brush grows, eat dirt for breakfast, drink, and gamble. I mean who WOULDN’T want to do that? I just feel for the poor sheriff. I’m not sure how they find a guy for this job, because he always ends up dead by the time the credits scroll.

The bandits show up into town:
“Alright the bank is a block east from here, the bar is next to the bank, and the sheriff is roaming the streets ready to duel.”
“So what’s our plan?”
“Rob the bank, shoot the sheriff, and then get some shots of whiskey?”
“How bout we get the whiskey, shoot the sheriff, then rob the bank?”
“What if we rob the sheriff, shoot the bank, then drink the whiskey?”

I don’t know… the bottom line is the Sheriff ends up dead either way…

I believe the number one cause of death for the Sheriff is DUEL. They’re filling out the accident report, “how the accident occurred: DUELED, and got shot in the heart.” I wonder if there’s a way to collect workmen’s comp for that? DEFINITELY a work related accident…

I never have understood the duel; I just don’t see the logic in it. For those of you who have never seen one, the two cowboys stand back to back, and mark out a couple of paces away from each other and then turn around staring deep into each other’s eyes. The goal is to shoot the other varmint before he shoots YOU. So they stare deep at each other trying to read when the other one draws so they can try and draw a little bit faster, and they have a twitchy hand next to the gun, trying to fake the other guy out. “oh, I’m gonna go NOW, no NOW, haha tricked you!” -BOOM- He’s dead.

I don’t think dueling is the time to pump fake. Basketball, football, or even GOLF, FINE do it. But DUELING?! Why would you EVER want someone to THINK you’re going, and then NOT ACTUALLY GO? And they’re always trying to go AFTER the other person starts drawing, like there’s some advantage to that or something? The way I see it is whoever grabs their gun the first will always be ahead by at least half a second! So why wait?! Why not just turn around grab your gun and shoot?! What’s this whole psychology twitchy hand voodoo crap going on. Just shoot him!

Anyway… I guess that’s why I was always the Indian…
 
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