Small Beverage Fridge : Buy Cheap Refrigerator
Small Beverage Fridge
- A liquid to consume, usually excluding water; a drink. This may include tea, coffee, liquor, beer, milk, juice, or soft drinks
- A drink, esp. one other than water
- any liquid suitable for drinking; "may I take your beverage order?"
- A drink, or beverage, is a liquid which is specifically prepared for human consumption. In addition to filling a basic human need, beverages form part of the culture of human society.
- A refrigerator
- electric refrigerator: a refrigerator in which the coolant is pumped around by an electric motor
- A refrigerator is a cooling apparatus. The common household appliance (often called a "fridge" for short) comprises a thermally insulated compartment and a heat pump—chemical or mechanical means—to transfer heat from it to the external environment (i.e.
- Fridge is a 2006 television and print advertising campaign launched by Diageo to promote canned Guinness-brand stout in the United Kingdom. The campaign was handled by advertising agency Abbott Mead Vickers BBDO. The television piece was directed by J J Keith, and shot in the Czech Republic.
- Small items of clothing, esp. underwear
- limited or below average in number or quantity or magnitude or extent; "a little dining room"; "a little house"; "a small car"; "a little (or small) group"
- on a small scale; "think small"
- the slender part of the back
Auryn Piers decides not to push the subject at this point, sighing as Tarin insists on moving about. She locates and fills a glass full of water before sitting it on the table in front of her. “Well, hopefully you got it all outta your system.” She was, of course, referring to the drinking. Tarin Perian looks at the water and then picks it up and takes a swallow. "There's some...gatorjuice crap in the fridge....I think." She rests her forehead in her hand. "Everything fucking hurts...even numb, it hurts.." Auryn Piers: “Drink the water.” The command was a softly-spoken one as she settles into the nearby chair. Despite humankind’s efforts when it came to hydration, nothing quite beat good ol’ H2O. Tarin Perian works on getting the water down already starting to sober up. "Hate this..." she mumbles and then slides a hand over to Auryn. "I'm glad you're here." Auryn Piers offers a weak smile as she allows her hand to be taken. “Well, you’re definitely a girl that needs looking after.” The words are offered in half jest as brows are comically lifted. Tarin Perian finishes the glass of water and pushes it aside. "Now..can I have some of th'juice?" She grins at Auryn and her smile flickers and fades. "I'm sorry. I am. But...it was so scary...and it all happened so fast..." Auryn Piers: “Yeah.” She collects the glass before rising, sliding her hand from beneath the other. “I really am sorry you had a rough time of it.” She tosses the statement over her shoulder while finding and then filling the container with the desired beverage. She returns to the table and places it neatly before Tarin. “Musta shook you up pretty bad.” She reclaims her seat while casting a concerned glance in the woman’s direction. Tarin Perian drinks about a third of the glass as soon as it's set down, then closes her eyes and leans back. 'Better...thanks for this. I mean it. And yeah...I can't say much about it, but...basically, someone that was...well..family...was so very -not-. And it got messy..and...when it was all done...everyone had somewhere to be...someone to be with..." Auryn Piers: “Bad stuff happens fast. Then again, so does the good stuff.” She lifts slender shoulders into a shrug. “That’s life, I guess.” Fingers absently trace the table’s surface as she listens, head adopting a shallow cant as green eyes remain upon the other’s features. She finds herself unsure of what to say, lips forming a thin line as she considers. “No matter what happens or doesn’t happen with us, you have a friend in me, okay? You need someone after something bad like that? Gimme a call.” Tarin Perian glances over at Auryn and then back down at the table. "Sounds a lot like I'd just be using you when the bad shit happened. Then again, in this place...that's been about once every couple of weeks on an average." Auryn Piers: “Eh. Different people mean different things to each other. A friendship is a friendship, right? ‘Sides, I’m sure you’d do the same for me.” She begins to fidget, weight shifting within the chair. Tarin Perian nods a little. "Yeah...I'd do the same for you in a heartbeat. I guess...I'm just fumbling my way. See...I never...saw relationships. Or...anything...really. I mean..I have some vague memories from when I was like..five..but after that, for the next twelve years, I lived in Facilities. Labs." She looks down at the glass, now about half empty. "I'm kinda learning as I go here. We weren't around a wide variety of people, or a large number of them." Auryn Piers: “Yeah, I kinda figured that.” She leans backward in her chair, fingers lacing behind her neck as a swiveling of her head allows for a sideways glance. “I’ve lived on the streets and in-” She cuts off the statement, debating the wisdom of being so forthcoming. “Let’s just say I may not be all that older than you or anything but I’ve had my share of.. Uh… experiences. I don’t mean sex.. ’though there’s that. I just mean with people. I know who I am. It’s something I had to figure out for myself and that’s something you’re gunna have to do.” Tarin Perian nods a little. "I know. And...I don't want you to think I don't...appreciate you. Or care for you. Or find you amazing. But...you're like..light years ahead of where I'm at with being sure about things. Me? Give me an arsenal to strip down and reassemble, or a tactical situation to analyze, and I'm fine..." No..no real signs of being drunk now that she's drinking the 'juice'. "...but put me in a club or a party? I panic. I don't know how to behave, or react, or..." She sighs. "I couldn't even live in a family. I had to leave." Auryn Piers: “You’ll find your way, darlin’” A genuine smile finds her lips as she continues to indulge in the backward lounge. “People ain’t all that hard to figure out and once you been around them for awhile, you’ll start to see who you really are.” Auryn was young,
Saturday, April 25, 2009
My morning at the Cleveland Clinic consisted of getting my blood drawn and my urine checked every 30-60 minutes, drinking an orange glucose beverage, getting weighed and measured and poked and prodded and x-rayed, answering detailed questions about my habits and my physical and mental health, and getting a shot of an iodine solution. Hank, my lab nurse, oversaw the collection of my urine and blood samples. He would enter the restroom in front of me, lay two plastic hats in the toilet bed, and turn on the faucet. "Think of Niagara Falls," he would say somberly before exiting. At noon I had my CAT scan. By this point I'd had about a pint of blood removed from my body and had been fasting since the night before. The nurse sat me down and inserted an IV into my arm. The mixture of the pain and the sight of the blood that spurted along my forearm, combined with my already weakened state, proved to be too much for me. I turned to her and said with certainty, "I'm going to pass out." The next thing I remember is being hoisted onto a gurney by by two male nurses. They gave me a short break, then rolled me in for my CAT scan. This entailed being injected with contact dye. I was warned in advance that my body would be flooded with heat and that there would be a metallic taste in my mouth. In a prone state, I was moved back and forth under the scanner, my arms extended above my head, for five minutes. About four minutes in, the lab tech asked, "Did you have this mark on your arm before?" A red spot began to spread slowly across my forearm. A tiny wrinkle in the center of the splotch gradually grew into a hefty blister, one inch in diameter and filled with yellow pus. A doctor was called in an it was ascertained that I am in fact allergic to contact dye. Typically, folks break into hives. Contracting blisters was something entirely new to this crew, and they decided that they needed to watch me for an extended period of time to ensure that this rare symptom didn't spread to other areas of my body. (I later found a small splotch of blisters on my belly as well.) Here's the line drawn to encircle the area where the redness spread, in order to determine later if it had grown or shrunk. I'm sparing you the view of the unsightly blister, which has since ruptured. All told, it was an eventful afternoon. When I met with the nephrologist at the end of the day and was calmly told that I was a perfect donor candidate, it was almost anti-climactic. I wanted to tell the stoic, steely-eyed doctor about how squeamish I am around needles and how I'd passed out earlier in the day. About how I had contracted a new and rare allergy (I mean, I've never been allergic to anything). About how much grief I had gotten the day before about my jug of urine in the fridge. About foster care, and my boss going on sabbatical, and my student leaders graduating. About Rhoda and my cat. About the journey I began last November when I first found out that my cousin desperately needed a new kidney and that I shared his blood type. Instead, I just said, "Yes." I'll do it.