15 Movies

Below are quotes from the first 15 movies I can think of that I really like.  How many can you identify?  I know that #6 and #10 are obscure.

1) Do you understand that the world does not revolve around you and your do whatever it takes, ruin as many people’s lives, so long as you can make a name for yourself as an investigatory journalist, no matter how many friends you lose or people you leave dead and bloodied along the way, just so long so you can make a name for yourself as an investigatory journalist, no matter how many friends you lose or people you leave dead and bloodied and dying along the way?

2) That’s why her hair is so big, it’s full of secrets.

3) Oh stewardess! I speak jive.

4) 1 2 3 4 5? That’s amazing! I’ve got the same combination on my luggage!

5) Love you, always have.

6) I am the best goddamn dancer in the American Ballet Academy. Who the hell are you? Nobody.

7) This definitely rates about a 9.0 on my weird-shit-o-meter.

A gun rack… a gun rack. I don’t even own *a* gun, let alone many guns that would necessitate an entire rack. What am I gonna do… with a gun rack?

9) Jesus Christ!

10) And who do you rule, the large-dark-nipple people?

11) It was a “Jump to Conclusions” mat. You see, it would be this mat that you would put on the floor… and would have different CONCLUSIONS written on it that you could JUMP TO.

12) The swan ate my baby!

13) Childs, we’re going out to give Blair the test. If he tries to make it back here and we’re not with him… burn him.

14) You ate an entire wheel of cheese?

15) Coffee. Coffee NOW!

The True Story of a First Time Human Capri-Sun*

Upon the advice of the nice clinician at UNYTS, I ate a full dinner on Wednesday night and drank a crapload of water. At least if I wussed out, I would be a super-hydrated wuss.
Thursday morning I skipped the cups of coffee (I KNOW!), had a bigger-than-usual serving of Smart Start and drank about 2 liters of water before 9:30am. On the way to the donation site I ate an apple for good measure.
The “bloodmobile” was like a clinical RV.
There were signs all over it that said BLOOD DRIVE and arrows as thick as the perceived needles pointing towards the door. Convincing myself that I did not just make the twenty mile trip to puss out, I put my hand on the door and popped it open.
Inhaling deeply, I stepped inside and was promptly greeted by a very nice phlebotomist. The words spilled out of my mouth, “ThisismyfirsttimeandI’mreallyscared and Ihateneedles but theytoldmetobehonest and I havetopeesowehavetofit that in somewhere.”
The phlebotomist laughed and advised me to pee first. So I did.
Giving myself Ye Olde Pep Talk in the bathroom, I walked back to the bloodmobile and reiterated my extreme aversion to needles and blood in general.
Fears calmed, I did some paperwork and was lead into a small room (which I think was a converted bathroom). I immediately sat down and looked away from the clinician. “I’m not even going to poke you yet. I just need your temperature. “
“Okay. But if I see the needles, I will freak out and it’s better for everyone that I just look over here.”
“Um, okay.”
So despite the inner-hysteria, my temp, BP and pulse were fantastic. I am also proud to report that I am not anemic. To test for anemia, they prick the inside of your middle finger and put the blood on this little transfer thing and drop droplets into a solution that coagulates the blood and if you’re not anemic, the blood sinks.
There is a huge bubble of blood on my finger and the phlebotomist is charting things. “Uh” I say. “I’m,um, I’m still bleeding over here.”
And then I got a supercute band-aid! And she said that most people find the fingerstick worse then the draw. I sigh with relief.
All cleared and ready to go, they bring me to the back of the RV and another phelbotomist asks me which arm we’re taking out of. “I dunno, you choose.” I tell him, showing him both inner elbows.
His eyes light up and he taps my left arm and points to a chair by a window.
He hands me a stress ball. “Squeeze three times and hold on the fourth.”
“YYYEEWWWWWOOOOWWW!”
“Um, I’m just marking your vein. And this is a splatter guard, just in case.”
“WHAT?!?! I’m super nervous and this is my first time and did you hear me tell everyone that I hate needles?”
“You’re going to feel a pinch…”
“YYYEEEEOOOWWW!”
And the other phlebotomist tells me that I am going to have to relax to have the pain subside. I try my best.
I ask one of the medics to take a picture because NO ONE is going to believe me.

“How are you feeling?” I’m asked.
“Um, a bit lightheaded.”
And she raises my feet up a bit. Meanwhile, someone else is coming in and getting set up. The phlebotmist is watching me and she asks me, with a bit more concern, “Are you still okay?”
“I. I. I feel a bit. Nauseous.” And before I know it I have a can of ginger ale. And the windows are open. And I am sweating like a sumofabitch.
She asks me again how I’m feeling.
“Still light headed. Nauseous.”
Meanwhile, I’ve filled a bag (and a handful of vials). The needle comes out and I can see the sweat pooling on my right arm. Someone is holding my left arm up. And there, in my lap, amongst the tissues (used and boxed), purse and sweater, is a teal basin. For my vomit.
And not a moment too soon.
“BLLLEECHCHHH.”
“Oh dear.”
“Is this norma-BLLLLEECCCHHH.”
“Sometimes this happens.”
“Oh.” I didn’t recall reading about vomiting in the manual. I sip some more ginger ale. My shoe comes off. I’m asked again if I’m okay. But instead of words, it’s vomit. Oh, look, it’s that apple I ate. There’s an ice pack on my head. I just want to take off my shoes and pants. My head weighs a million pounds. I want to sleep.
After I hold my own for about five minutes, I’m offered a snack. “Do you have chocolate chip cookies?” I get a brownie. WITH SPRINKLES!!! Best day ever.
I pick at my brownie and am told, specifically, not to skip any meals and to drink a lot of water. Inner-voice Stephanie laughs, “like you’d skip a meal.” (I would categorize my eating habits as “constant grazing”. I had half a sandwich, 2 small tacos and a Strawberry Ice Cream bar between the draw and the time I went to bed) I dump my tray and tissues in the biohazard bag and apoligize to the tech. “You did fine!”
Brownie finished, I am asked it I’d like to try standing up. So I do. And besides a slight headache, I feel pretty okay. I pix Steve my sticker and comment, “I GAVE BLOOD!!!”
I go back to work and show off my sticker and bandages to the foreman who gives me kudos.
I call mom who practically falls off her chair and tells me how proud she is.
When I make it home, I collapse on the sofa and take a short nap.
Steve doesn’t understand. He doesn’t get what the big deal is as he thinks that most of my hang-ups are in my head. I pout. All I want to hear is that he’s proud of me.
Later at night, I take the band-aid off my finger and I’m already bruising.

I show Steve and I think it occurred to him how much of a big deal this really was. “But you’re bruising.” he says, sympathetically. “That’s just a quick finger prick.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Wow.”
I fear for my arm.

Last night, I take the tape off my elbow and it’s not too bad. Good thing I took two Tylenol PM. I’m out.

This morning, I’m sore. There were hair/face washing issues. While I was drying off, I saw why I am sore. I have bruising.

Already. (granted it’s faint in this picture) Up elbow. (Yes Dad, I’m icing).

Everyone keeps asking if I’ll do it again. You know, despite the vomiting and the bruising and the exhaustion, I think I would do it again. The side effects are temporary and I’m sure that I’ll recover a lot faster then whoever is getting my blood. I see my purpling as a battle scar.

And here we are the next afternoon…. I’m still rather stiff and achy.

*Props to dear Heather who made me have my first laugh about blood donation by referring to it as becoming a human Capri-Sun.