Drawing from a stone

4/15/09: A final word on the sunk cost fallacy, I promise: my brother found this site called swoopo.com that appears to be an auction site at first glance. But they charge you to bid! The timing of this couldn't be more perfect for my blog!!! Blogging!!! The price of what they are auctioning off, usually a big ticket item like an iPhone or a TV only ever increases by .15 cents. The price to become the winning bidder is .75 cents. Each bid also adds 20 seconds to the auction preventing you from sneaking in at the last second. For those of you who don't already see, this is just a racket. Your .75 is just gone forever. It costs massive amounts of money to get the auction price even remotely close to the retail price (which is the only way to get other people out of the same sunk cost fallacy you yourself are in). And what is to stop the administrator of the site from bidding on her own items, preventing you from grabbing that elusive deal (dream big, Mr. twelve dollar big screen).




Today was the big day. I sold blood on Broad St. For those who are curious, my weight loss plan doesn't work. There are only 600 calories in a pint of blood according to the red cross. But I didn't go to the Red Cross. Those jokers are asking you to just give away your mighty vitality juice. Oh, btw, if you ever need a blood infusion, you might want to ask where it comes from. The waiting room in this place was the absolute dregs of the earth. When I enter a second time (I needed my social security card, which I wasn't prepared with, so I had to go to the Social Security Office where "24" was playing and 5 cops were watching it) there is a man (hard to say how old) with this brilliant phone call: "....see, you wasn't thinkin' straight. You drank too much and you can't make good decisions. See, I never understood all that. I never took to drinking or smoking that ish." At this point I think he is telling the person on the other end that they shouldn't do so many drugs. "I just want that straight crack rock." Oh, never mind. There was also a very good conversation about how giving blood is awesome not only because you get 20 bucks put also because you get really high if you smoke up right afterwards because you are already woozy from not having enough blood. It is a certain kind of person that can be incentivized with Mr. Jefferson to let you drain his blood. And it isn't really the kind of person you want to accept blood from.


The best part was the Temple girls. Anybody who went knows what I mean. Impossibly good-looking and fashion obsessed black girls that listen to top 40 hip hop but really deep down want to be indy kids they just aren't exposed to it. They flirted with me alot and wanted to talk about my clothes, Urban Outfitters (I tried to fake it, but I think they figured me out when I answered every other question with 'The Thrift Store"), and how much I liked going to Spain. I really blew it talking about Spain choosing to try to tell a complicated story about why they talk with a lisp when I should have made it short and sweet. I chalked this good luck up to my observation about the kind of person that gives blood. If you deal with the homeless all day, even I'm a catch. It worked out though, because a bunch of the questions they ask could have been hot-girl-doctor-giving-a-physical-awkward but they were cool although she tried to get a little bit too sexy talking about how great my veins were with both her hands around my bicep. Also, Andy was right about the gays. But apparently if you had tons of gay sex before 1977 and then quit for some reason you are okay, so at least they pretend its about Hi-5. Anyone who needs a self-esteem boost should totally do this. Not only are you the most eligible person to ever walk in the building, but the questions make you feel like the picture of perfect health. Do you have liver disease? No. Have you ever sold sex for money or drugs? Nope. Do you have diabetes? Uh-uh. And on and on until you feel lucky just to be just overweight and underemployed.

The nurses in the back weren't nearly as nice. "So, which arm do you want me to stick you in?" was the first thing she said to me. Also, I don't know if its illegal or what, but they just slip you a twenty as you walk out. They make it feel really shady, especially with the overuse of the word "donate."

All in all a pretty interesting thing to do. The only truly no fun part is being in a waiting room and trying to figure out if you want to sit down in a seat squeezed next to two people who you expect to ask you for change or to just stand. I chose stand but then I realized I was next to the only other white person in the room and I felt guilty about it. Sitting didn't work either because "You shouldn't be reading in here. This is where you go to give blood." Oh. Thanks.