����One big ass doughnut, a glass of juice and a wonderfully tacky pin ... I am just SO into this bleeding for others thing!

����It's not like Hema-Qu�bec is gonna ever let me miss a blood donor clinic, anyhow. I'm telling you, every 56 days I feel like a virgin at a Vampire Ball--they keep close tabs on the few people who are both able and willing to give blood.

����There aren't as many of us as there used to be.

����First time I gave blood in high school, the attitude was, "You Got Blood? We'll take it, thank you." That was it. They stuck you, took a few drops of blood to get your type and to make sure you had enough iron and That Was It. Narry a latex glove in sight.

����Whoooeeeeeee have things ever changed. Now they want your donor card, and an additional piece of photo ID thankyewverymuch to confirm that you are indeed, the person you claim to be. Then they make you read a very detailed pamphlet, and fill out a very detailed form about your sexual, health and travel history.

����THEN they plunk you down in front of a nurse and make you repeat it all again.

���� Oh, and here's a tip. When the nurse asks you if you've ever traded your body for drugs, it's NOT a great idea to ask, "Ummm how much crack do you think I could get for my body now on the open market, it's been a while, you know?"

����They do NOT consider a line like that funny at all, even from a woman who's pushing 50 and has been married a kazillion years.

����AND they are the ones who put that whoa momma needle in your arm when it's actually time to draw the blood, so you'll be wanting to keep on this person's good side, you know what I'm saying?

����There's one more step before let you lie down and start bleeding. They leave you alone with a special paper with two bar coded labels. If you've been lying like a rug all along and want them to ditch your blood, you just stick the "Jeez, are you CRAZY? Don't use this blood it's FULL of cooties!!" bar code sticker on the donor form and hey, they won't.

����Oh my. That it's come to this ... that what used to be a simple gift is now a complex legal procedure--that everything about how you live from your sexuality, your health care and even your travel habits has to be considered.

����Jeepers, when I was growing up NOBODY talked about sex. Now today I was sitting in a little cubicle with a nurse asking me if I'd had sex for drugs or money, if anyone I had ever slept with had done that, if my partner or I were IV drug users, if my partner had slept with a man since 1977 .... helllllooooo.

����Sex was complicated enough back when I was in my teens. Hey, not only did I have to worry about marauding dinosaurs, but I also brought all the baggage to it that I read about in diaries here now--feeling unsure about my body, worrying if it was love or if I was being used as a handy dandy living breathing penis receptacle, worrying about pregnancy, worrying about some sexually transmitted diseases ...

����But the one thing I didn't have to worry about was that sex could croak me, that the act that creates life could also hand on a death sentence.

����And now people do.

����I have had the hardest time understanding why I so often see people younger than I (which is basically EVERYONE at Diaryland) say in their diaries that sex is okay but they're afraid of falling in love. When I read that I ALWAYS get this big W.T.F. thought balloon over my head, because I just can't grok it.

����But maybe there's a simple reason why I can't get it. I had my sexual awakening in the time before AIDS. I had the great good fortune not to be anyone's one night stand. In my head sex is tied closely to love (although mixed up with alot of things) ...

����But death isn't one of those things.