Update: Something put me off about the guy drawing my blood. I don't think it was because there was a cute chica who COULD have been the one drawing my blood, I know it wasn't because he was Muslim, I think it was the fact that his name tag was written, in Sharpie, on a piece of masking tape. He sucked. It took him 5 minutes of probing in my arm with a needle to find my vein. He kept nervously asking if I was OK. I answered yes and didn't say anything disparaging until my muscles in my forearm started to scream from making a fist for God knows how long.
Speaking of God, I think this annoying experience was his way of presumptively getting back at me for eating a sandwich filled with BBQ'd pork loin (unclean meat) diced and sauteed in a homemade red wine vinegar (made from firewater) and spiced to hell and back.