Thursday, August 27, 2009

It's good that they're not letting a little thing like being a zombie ruin their marriage...

I am perpetually cold. My core temperature is naturally a degree or two low and I have low blood pressure so it is pretty well guaranteed that, at any moment, if you were to feel my toes, they would feel like little knuckle-y ice cubes. Because of this, air conditioning is my arch nemesis (which is unfortunate because Dahling always has it on at home and the thermostat in my office generally reads "Hang Meat"). So you can imagine how less-than-pleased I was when, while out in New York last week, I realized that the only table in our destination large enough for our group was directly across from a mammoth AC vent.

I tried blocking the air flow by crouching behind a 6’2” acquaintance but this only succeeded in making me look like a crazy person and quite possibly making him wish we had never met. Luckily, someone else in our group had brought a sweatshirt and was, by this point, sufficiently alcohol enabled enough that he was feeling no pain or, more relevantly, no cold. I borrow his sweatshirt. Problem solved. I don’t give it another thought.

That is until later in the afternoon when I patronized the bodega two doors down from the bar. Apparently, the fact that I was so heavily clothed in August was of great interest to the clerk.

Clerk (who possessed a rather heavy accent): Why you have sweatshirt? Is summer.

Me: The air is on high in the bar we are in. I’m always cold though.

C: You have-a no blood.

M: Pardon?

C: You like-a my wife. She have-a no blood. You like-a my wife.

At this point, the Gentleman I Was With (who, as you may have noticed, is a recurring character lately, and, as such, will receive capital letters and be henceforth referred to as simply "the Gentleman") was trying his best to restrain the laugh that comes from watching me attempt to process this exchange. I took my receipt and we left.

Last night, the Gentleman and I went to see Inglorious Basterds. As we were leaving, I mentioned that I was surprised that the theater had not been freezing, “You know, since I have no blood, like your wife.”

…I guess this is what I get for calling my circulatory system my “caffeine stream” since high school.


  1. haha! I thought I was the only one running around in 99 degree heat with a sweatshirt wrapped around my waist. Now I know I, too, have no blood.

  2. Caffeine stream?

    Is that like my alcohol stream?

  3. Spleeness: It was really such a simple solution, I'm not sure how I didn't come across it earlier. But take comfort in the fact that there are many of us bloodless folks out here.

    LiLu: I consider myself an alcohol/caffeine hybrid, which beats the hell out of a Prius any day of the week.

  4. "You like-a my wife. She have-a no blood. You like-a my wife."

    I get this all the time. Just replace the word "blood" with the word "tits."

  5. my grandpa had a term for being always cold. he used to tell my grandmother that she had "shit in her veins"