Oh Plasma Boy!
I’ve been donating plasma for extra money recently. For some reason people about to donate plasma are in a “zone” that I have yet to fully articulate. People are strangely giddy, cracking jokes, laughing wildly and all relating. It’s like we are pre-trauma bonding. Now I actually look forward to donating, apparently plasma centers are my karass (see Cat’s Cradle: Vonnegut). If you’re not the kind of freak I am, the kind of freak that enjoys donating plasma, I’ve invented a few games to make your visit a little more interesting. It’s worth doing when you are low on cash or need extra dough. The first five visits you actually make about 350 dollars and that first month around 550. Just remember the very first visit will be longer cause you have to have a physical (roughly three hours total including donation time) and you will have to bring the approved documents which you can find by going to the webpage of the center or calling them.
Game 1: My last visit I told the plasma boy (the cute guy poking me) that I’m going to have my birthday party there. While other girls are out getting their toenails done, my friends and I will be at the plasma bank hooked to devices among the towns bottomless pit of people who will do anything for money. If six of us go we can make at least two hundred dollars. This makes it possible to bypass any excuse from my friends that they didn’t get me a gift because they are broke. I believe I have found the birthday gift loophole. Have your birthday party at the center.
Game 2: So I have assumed a persona at the plasma bank as the “high maintenance donor”. I often ask for a cheese plate or a hot towel. When I need something or if I’m afraid the anticoagulant is numbing my mouth I flag my hand daintily and say “Oh plasma boy!”. “Plasma boy, could you check my machine to make sure their are no air bubbles, I’m terribly allergic to air.” The last time I did this there was a guy sitting across from my who appeared to be turning grey. I’m not sure if it’s because of my grotesque demands or if the frequency of his donations had literally drained the life out of him. Be a high maintenance donor or assume a persona of your choice.
Game 3: If you go for awhile you actually start to develop favorites. Can I have Kevin poke me? Or please don’t give me Shelly, she slaughtered me last time. Sometimes I like to choose new people and trip them out by asking about where our plasma is going in a paranoid fashion. I happen to know that the company is from Germany so I ask them if they think that’s odd especially after World War two and some of the experiments they performed. I start in on my own conspiracy about some mega brain that is located underneath the center being powered by our life blood. Or, I say, maybe they just take our plasma into the back and throw it in a fire that powers the plasma TV’s we’re watching. That’s a whole lot more probable. Make up fantastical stories about where your plasma is going.
Game 4: If you want to really impress a date take them to the plasma center, claim that you only do it to help others with auto immune diseases and then take her to the dive bar next door to spend your earnings. Cough, I mean, donations. Yes, there typically is a shady bar next door. Smart fuckers. Now every time she sees you she’ll associate you with body fluid exchange and you’re good to go. Take a first date there.
In short, there used to be T-shirts that said Give blood, play hockey as a cute inference that you lost so much blood from playing those sports you could save a life. Why not bypass the team building, self-esteem boosting and fun that goes into organized sports and just, you know, go straight to saving lives. It might help you get laid ;)