10.17.98
What a fucking DaY!
It all started with the first donor I drew. There is a little thingamajiggie doo-dad that allows us to take separate samples without contaminating either the samples, or ourselves. It's a nice theory, but the bastard failed. Consequently, I was covered, from stem to stern with blood. We were out in the field, with not a chance of replacement scrubs, so I covered my indiscretion with a lab coat, and set forth looking very much like "Young Doctor Bob."
If it can go wrong, it does, and it wasn't too much later when mister macho decided to grip a little too hard, and blammo, my brilliant white lab coat was covered.
That's when I decided to give up.
****
My mood now is obviously less than sterling. I'm listening to Gluck's "Orfeo et Euridice," which is probably enough alone to depress even Doris Day. A guy named Tommy turned it around with an interesting commentary on people's view of his penis. It was just what I needed at that moment in time, and I had a good five minute laugh. I doubt others would find it as amusing as I did at that moment, but given the choice to laugh or cry, I decided to laugh.
Thanks, guy.
Aboard the #7, Kalihi Uka
These two guys I've seen before. They're obviously a couple. How could they not be? There are not too many white people in these parts; on most days, I'm the only one on the bus. They live farther back in the valley and RR and I, so I saw them sitting towards the rear, quietly chatting. One of them is just a sex god. Brilliant auburn hair (the color I would have if I were more vain) He's got a small gold loop in each earlobe, and a prominent vein rolls across his bicep. He's been doing his toe-touchies, it's quite obvious. I'm sure he has stunning blue eyes, but I'll not know...they're hidden beneath liquid sunglasses. The kind of guy you look at and know he's really hung. He's wondering if he should grow a goatee.
His other half is infinitely more conservative. He's got a rather fussy swept-back coiffure, and lovely features. He is at least five years senior, possibly even my age (AUGH!) The kind of guy you see in an Armani suit every afternoon walking around the office. He's the one who makes eye contact, and to whom I say hello as I walk past. he nods in acknowledgment. They don't seem to be in a talkative mood, so I sit reading my white trash book.
Eventually, they'll learn the difference between Kalihi (the slum) and Kahala (the toney) and they will move on. I've seen it happen so many times before. People frequently ask why I live here. Well, it's cheap, quiet, cool, and I've got a stream running thru the back yard. Any more questions? Maybe I like being surrounded by Filipinos. Then again....
It all started with the first donor I drew. There is a little thingamajiggie doo-dad that allows us to take separate samples without contaminating either the samples, or ourselves. It's a nice theory, but the bastard failed. Consequently, I was covered, from stem to stern with blood. We were out in the field, with not a chance of replacement scrubs, so I covered my indiscretion with a lab coat, and set forth looking very much like "Young Doctor Bob."
If it can go wrong, it does, and it wasn't too much later when mister macho decided to grip a little too hard, and blammo, my brilliant white lab coat was covered.
That's when I decided to give up.
****
My mood now is obviously less than sterling. I'm listening to Gluck's "Orfeo et Euridice," which is probably enough alone to depress even Doris Day. A guy named Tommy turned it around with an interesting commentary on people's view of his penis. It was just what I needed at that moment in time, and I had a good five minute laugh. I doubt others would find it as amusing as I did at that moment, but given the choice to laugh or cry, I decided to laugh.
Thanks, guy.
Aboard the #7, Kalihi Uka
These two guys I've seen before. They're obviously a couple. How could they not be? There are not too many white people in these parts; on most days, I'm the only one on the bus. They live farther back in the valley and RR and I, so I saw them sitting towards the rear, quietly chatting. One of them is just a sex god. Brilliant auburn hair (the color I would have if I were more vain) He's got a small gold loop in each earlobe, and a prominent vein rolls across his bicep. He's been doing his toe-touchies, it's quite obvious. I'm sure he has stunning blue eyes, but I'll not know...they're hidden beneath liquid sunglasses. The kind of guy you look at and know he's really hung. He's wondering if he should grow a goatee.
His other half is infinitely more conservative. He's got a rather fussy swept-back coiffure, and lovely features. He is at least five years senior, possibly even my age (AUGH!) The kind of guy you see in an Armani suit every afternoon walking around the office. He's the one who makes eye contact, and to whom I say hello as I walk past. he nods in acknowledgment. They don't seem to be in a talkative mood, so I sit reading my white trash book.
Eventually, they'll learn the difference between Kalihi (the slum) and Kahala (the toney) and they will move on. I've seen it happen so many times before. People frequently ask why I live here. Well, it's cheap, quiet, cool, and I've got a stream running thru the back yard. Any more questions? Maybe I like being surrounded by Filipinos. Then again....
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