Posts have been rather rare here, if only because I am preparing to delve into a shadowy project, anathema to all decent, everyday folk.

You will shun me, spit on my website, and disown me. But it doesn’t matter.

You don’t know the power of the Dark Side.

EDIT: This project is not the David K/Phaedrus collaboration, which may actually end up having some redeeming social value.

Last week, while going to the supermarket, I stumbled upon one of those blood donation vans. There was some portly dude in shades trying to lure me with Marlins tickets into handing over my hard-earned blood. Being overdue for a donation, I let him pretend he was a good salesman and agreed to enter the van.

One of the blood-taker girls was about to leave for the day when she asked to look at my veins. Nodding and “mmm-hmm”ing like she had her choice of men at La Bare, she asked my blood type (O+). She was extra-satisfied at this response, knowing that most people can receive O+ blood.

I think she was a vampire.

They asked me to do a double red blood cell collection, which takes longer and makes me ineligible to donate in four months rather than two. I agreed, and they were kind enough to give my plasma and platelets back.

I was actually slightly light-headed afterwards, which is unusual. And will probably affect me breaking a 13-minute mile in the near future. But it saved someone’s life, and I got two free Marlins tickets and an apple juice.

I fail at chess.

Two Wednesdays ago, I played a USCF-rated game for the first time in months. I managed only a draw against a 3rd grader, rated 1180. (Grats to him; no one below 1300 has managed a draw against me before.) He vaguely resembled me as a kid and used a MonRoi, which completely threw me off psychologically. At least that’s the best excuse I could come up with.

He seemed about as tactically aware as I was, and was really eager to exchange off his Knight for a Bishop. He never generated any real threats, but I wasn’t good enough to hurt him. Need to post this game later.