Friday, November 21, 2008

Just doing my little bit to save the world, three lives at a time

As I was going through the questions to make sure I was safe to donate blood today, the nurse looked at my driver's license, and said "You don't look like the Mormons I've known before". I figured she was probably referring to my face-fro. Like most mammals in northern climates, my fur gets thicker and wider distributed in the colder months. Obviously, she has never seen a picture of Brigham Young or Lorenzo Snow before. I felt it was my duty to free her of any other misconceptions of Utah that she might have. So I told her that in this past election, Utah had the highest percentage of people voting for a Democrat since the 1920s, to which she responded by giving me a high-five and bumping up the waiting list to get my blood taken.

When the phlebotomist was getting me unhooked and ran through the list of Coban bandage choices, I promptly told him to make it purple, because Weber will always hold a special place in my heart. I must have said purple a little too quickly and possibly too enthusiastically, because he gave me a look that said "Ohh, purple, eh? You sure you don't want to read over some of those donation questions a little more carefully?" My first thought was to tell him that I bleed purple. But then I realized that he had physical evidence to the contrary in his hands. I couldn't risk making him think I was lightheaded, because then he would have made me lay down for even longer.

I was a little nervous at first about riding my bike home after donating, which is why I caved in and ate one of the free chocolate chip cookies to replenish my waning blood-sugar levels. Actually, I had two of them. And a Capri Sun apple juice. And a packet of trail mix.

The city of Eugene is prepared though in the event of any fainting/narcoleptic college students on bikes. I think that it is precisely because an emergency of this nature could arise that the city has not picked up any of the fall leaves. Every street in the city is lined by corridors of dead leaves at least four feet high. Before when it rained and the rim brakes on my bike basically became a "just for show" feature, my commute was a little scary. Now I ride with a lot more confidence knowing that the leaves are there if I ever need to launch myself off my bike for any reason.

On a completely separate note, this picture was staged - I needed it for my PowerPoint for my class today- but it's still pretty cute.

Friday, November 14, 2008

Eugene's sparkling glitterati

Hey, how's it going? [insert lame excuses about how busy I've been here]. [insert profuse apologies and unfulfillable promises here]. Wheww!!! I'm glad we got that over with. So, Marci and I have been called to go to the Spanish branch and we went for the first time last Sunday. We had already made a lot of friends in our other ward, so we were a little bummed but also excited to go to our new branch. Plus, our other ward had somebody that mysteriously looked exactly like Cillian Murphy (the scarecrow from Batman Begins) and a guy that was a foot-and-half taller version of Vincini from the Princess Bride. So, I was especially excited to see what near-brushes with fame awaited us in our new branch. Possibly an Antonio Banderas lookalike or a Ricardo Montalban doppelganger. Well, I'm sorry to report that there were no Rickys or Tony Flags impersonators, but the guy that I sat next to in Elder's quorum did sound exactly like Machete from the Spy Kid movies (also known as the bartender from Anchorman if you don't watch those kiddy shows).
As if these almost celebrity sightings weren't enough, I just got an e-mail from the UO president, Dave Frohnmayer. Now most of you probably don't have an entire hemisphere of your brain dedicated to the minutiae of 80s movies, but Dave Frohmayer is the name of the sausage king of Chigago from Ferris Bueller's Day Off. It's reassuring to know that if the president of the university gig ever seems like it's not going anywhere, Dave can totally go back and reign over the land of stuffed meats. As a footnote, the sausage king of Chicago is really named Abe Frohman, but lets not get nitpicky.