Am I Really Supposed To Put That In My Eye?

I've sadly already become somewhat lackadaisical about posting and whole-heartedly apologize. It's sadly going to set the launch of this blog back unless I get my act together. I must argue though that not much of interest has happened since the last post and I'll be damned if there's any filler. Nonetheless, I am still culpable as if I went out in search of adventure then I wouldn't be complaining about the idleness of my days. Moving on...

I saw Batman Begins on the Wednesday it was released (not to mention two other times after that and counting) and enjoyed it immensely. It had alot of the mythos down and played the character straight, as he should be played. A couple minor quibbles were the finding of the killer (he was never found in current continuity), Jim Gordon being a longtime member of the GCPD (he came in from Chicago around the same time Bruce Wayne returned from his training in the comics), and a lack of Harvey Dent. Those don't really reflect poorly on the movie though, they really just show how much of a nerd I am. See the movie now (and if you don't want to go alone, call me. I'll more'n likely be in.)

Continuing on to a subject where I'm on more shakey (but less nerdy) ground, I procured my first set of contact lenses yesterday. No big deal for most people, but unfortunately, when anything comes within in a seventeen foot radius of my eyes, I immediately dive to the nearest corner and huddle in a fetal position, sucking my thumb and covering my eyes. The slightest breeze has been known to cause this before. Fulling knowing this fact, why I went for contacts is beyond me as well as the numerous assistants at the optimetrist's office who tried to aid me in my battle against my inner-school girl. It started with one assistant taking me back to a darkened room and attempting to put them in. It wasn't going to happen. In my defense, she had long fingernails that bordered upon being classified as talons. My brother, who witnessed the ordeal, told me he was impressed by how quickly I curled myself into a ball and found the furthest end of the chair. When it was discovered that I would let no mortal hands near my eyes, it was decided that I should put them in myself. I was taken back out to the front of the office, which doubles as a glasses store and waiting room so I "could put them on in the light." In reality, I think the assistant really just wanted me to suffer through this in the presence of others as I think she was miffed that I didn't trust her cornia-piercing, cuticle-covered daggers with the safety of my window to the world. When I say I think she was miffed, I mean that I know she was, as she promptly deserted me after escorting me to a table and promptly turning tail, leaving me with no clue how to put these little pieces of whoknowswhat into my eyes. Luckily, another assistant came to my rescue and she had the compassion and patience of a saint (when she passes, which is hopefully a long way off, I'll be petitioning to have her canonized). After twenty minutes, half a bottle of solution, and more encouragement than a self-help books, I finally got one in. All it took was for her to grab my top eyelash while I restrained the bottom and while staring at the Blue Meanie on my brother's shirt, slide the little bugger in. The second one came in a lightning fast ten minutes and only several decades of the Rosary. After completing such a bold and daring task, I as ushered back into the dark room where I couldn't gloat to all of the bystanders who had witness my conquering of the contacts. After the exam, the doctor gave me to the ok to leave only to quickly retract his blessing as he realized that I had not yet been instructed on how to remove the contacts. That's right, it turns out you have to take the stupid things off on a daily basis. Heartbroken, I was taken back to my table where a third assistant (the second passed out, bless her heart) taught me how to remove the contacts. She too possesed great patience and knowledge of the contact and I soon (by soon I mean a fortnight) learned how to remove my contacts and was sent on my way. The rest of the day was enjoyable but as it came to a close, I began to dread what was to come. I knew I would have to remove my contacts without the help of the saints of optometry. On my own, the removal of contacts seemed much harder than when Nicole (the third assistant gave me her name and when given a name, I use it) held my hand through it. The good news was that it only took till the crack of down and I retained my right eye.

Today was my mom's birthday, so we celebrated with by making her breakfast, taking her to the beach, out to dinner, etc. It was a nice day and I hope she enjoyed it. So if anyone didn't get a hold of me today, you now understand why you couldn't. I would apologize, but I'm not sorry (unless you happen to be a supermodel and/or accomplished musician of the opposite sex, then you receive my most sincere and lugubrious of apologies).

As a sidenote, I recommend Anna Nalick and her album Wreck of the Day to anyone and everyone. It's mellow and nuanced with great lyrics and Nalick has a beautiful voice.

Well, that's all I gots for now. This one's for Benny, who's bored out of his mind. I hope this eases your pain.