Type-O clubs... or club Type-O's? I choose the latter.

So earlier tonight, we were walking over to the Breezeway from Mandy's, where we'd been watching LOST, when somehow we got talking about blood-types. Turns out that, miracle-of-miracles, we had two O-positive blood-types in our midst -- Alisha and Mandy. I guess those are really rare or special or something because type-O can give to any of the other types (A, B, or AB), and like 87% of the population is Rhesus "positive". Because of this, they were going on about being universal donors and they thought that they were all cool shit.

Universal donor basically means that you can give blood to pretty much anyone if they need a transfusion, but the catch is that you can only receive blood from another of the rare universal donors if you need a transfusion yourself.

So being that they thought they were all "unique" and "special" because they could "save lives" and stuff, I suggested that they should just go start a club. Some type of club in which only universal donors could join. And they could have big meetings to talk about how awesome they are.

And then wouldn't it be oh so awful if -- Tragedy-of-tragedies! -- someone were to walk into one of said meetings and -- Oh... I don't know -- open fire on them? Or maybe just severely beat the majority of them? But wouldn't they fight back, you ask? Well, there couldn't be that many of them, and besides -- I'm sure they'd be too weak to put up much of a fight, what with all those good-samaritan blood donations that they do...

So they're all in the hospital, waiting for their blood-type to show up... Wouldn't that be a kick in their fuckin' type O-positive pants? At this point I might walk through their ward, having just donated a big ol' bag just brimming with useless type B blood, and I'd sing a little song to myself out loud. It'd go a little something like this: "Ooooooooh... it's so great to have bloooooooood... to fill my vascular systeeeeeeeem! So great to have bloooooood.... that my bone mar-ROOOOOOOOOW makes meeeeeeee!"

And then, as I trilled off the last note, I'd finish off my post-donation sugar cookie and make a graceful exit from the trauma ward.

Bitter? Noooo...