You know what really gets to me? What really grinds my gears? What really gets my knickers in a knot? Blood donations.
Alright, yes, let's stop for a second. I am not saying that I am at all against donating blood. Heck, I donate blood as often as I am allowed to. I'm O positive so I have the good stuff. I even think the experience can be kind of fun sometimes. It is a good thing to do. But that does not save from the fact that it really riles me up. It really rustles my jimmies. It really steams my clams.
Why? I have a few reasons.
1. The Red Cross will NOT stop calling you.
As soon as it is around the time for be to be able to donate, I seem to get almost-daily phone calls from the American Red Cross. These calls ring in from my hometown and my college area since I have donated in each. Look, I know I can and should donate. I know my type is sought after. I know I am lonely and desperate for human contact. But, enough is enough. Just send me an email or something. Just kidding, I get tons of emails as well.
2. The finger prick might as well be my death.
"Hold still, I'm just going to get a quick sample. It won't be too bad."
*CRACK*
[a small piece of plastic with the power of a thousand suns inserts a saber into the finger of my choice and pulls out the essence of my life]
[the worker begins squeezing my finger and my lifeline oozes out as I sit there, visibly un-phased but screaming internally for this madness to end]
3. The woozy aftermath.
I usually do a double red donation. Now, I have never passed out after donating blood but I always end up feeling pretty sleepy and low-energy for the rest of the day. No little candies or unfortunately-short water bottles will sustain me! 
4. The Pre-Donation Questions
No, I have not been to Southeast Asia. No, I have not given birth recently. No, I have not had any sexual encounters with bovine. No, I do not have bats as pets. No, I am not Ricky Gervais!!!
In the long run, donating blood is a great thing to do. Being an almost-universal donor is great as well. Blood helps save lives somewhere out there I suppose. And, someone's gotta do it. Yet, these things still bother me. These things still tan my hide. They burn my biscuits, rub me the wrong way, and burst my bubble. I guess what I am really trying to say is:
I get tremendously upset by trivial things.
