Showing posts with label glasses. Show all posts
Showing posts with label glasses. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 03, 2019
Saturday, April 06, 2019
Monday, January 14, 2019
Back, Biceps and
BOY I WISH THAT GUY WITH THE BALL CAP AND THE BEEFY QUADS WOULD LOOK UP SO WE COULD MAKE EYE CONTACT AND EXCHANGE SMILES AND SCHEDULE THE CAKE TASTING FOR THE WEDDING.
Also: BOY I NEED TO CLEAN MY GLASSES.
Sunday, September 09, 2018
Hello, 1980s glasses frames with old prescriptions in them that I just found while I was (don’t ask why) looking for all my old Speedos
And no, that isn’t my sister’s 1980s senior photo behind my head as I pose next to my own 1980s senior photo to provide historical context for my 1980s glasses frames. It’s just a weird shadow.
Sunday, August 12, 2018
There is a wicked-ugly fight brewing that just might tear our friendships asunder about the name for the structure behind us: campanile, carillon or bell tower
We would have had a kickfight deathmatch over it this morning, but we couldn’t move our legs because we’d just run 11 miles.
Oh, yeah: Did I mention that WE RAN 11 MILES!
(Minus about 3/4 miles for walk breaks, but still.)
Some thoughts about this morning’s run:
• The 5.5-mile turnaround on our route is out in the middle of a cornfield and along a lonely highway.
• It seems REALLY FAR.
• Plus NO SHADE.
• Our route also runs under two highways that we think are 30 and 380, but it would be cool for them to be labeled along the route just to quell our curiosities.
• I like the word quell.
• Quell.
• It would also be cool if the lonely country road were labeled to quell the curiosities of people on the trail.
• There’s that word again.
• I’m on a roll!
• Anyway, I have NO idea what highway it might be.
• We saw four hot guys running on the trail with their shirts off.
• I didn’t get any of their numbers.
• But the one in the yellow shorts ...
• Wow.
• (Call me.)
• I have some kind of knee soreness that feels like it might become a bit of a problem over time.
• Stay tuned for updates—I’m sure I’ll bitch about it here ad nauseam if it gets worse.
• I also love the term ad nauseam.
• Though people often misspell it with an -um ending.
• Don’t do that.
• On one of our first long runs on the Cedar River Trail, I swear I noticed an old-timey wooden staircase overgrown with weeds and climbing up a hill from the trail to a dense thicket of woods.
• Which, of course, is evidence of witches.
• I like the word thicket.
• Thicket.
• Rob and Scott didn’t see the staircase, and I was so exhausted and hurting along the run that I truly considered the possibility that I’d hallucinated it.
• Or I’d missed my opportunity to visit Brigadoon.
• We’ve been looking for it on our long runs ever since, with no luck.
• So my money was on Brigadoon instead of witches.
• Anyway, I FOUND IT AGAIN TODAY.
• So maybe I’m a witch.
• It isn’t as old-timey as I remember it, but it definitely climbs from the trail through a bunch of overgrown weeds to the nowhereness of a thicket of woods.
• So it’s definitely witches.
• Thicket.
• Anyway, if you want to see it or you’re looking for a local coven to join, it’s at mile 4.4 on your right as you head south on the trail from its intersection with the Lion Bridge.
• WE RAN 11 MILES, PEOPLE!
• Quell.
• Ad nauseam.
• Thicket.
• Campanile.
One final note: I took all my non-car keys off my car key ring before the run so they wouldn’t bounce and jingle in my pocket for 2.5 hours, and I randomly left them on my bed before I headed off to run. When I came back exhausted and slightly loopy and for some reason holding my glasses in my hand instead of wearing them on my face, I saw the copper-brown lump sitting there and my first thought was that the cat had pooped in my bed.
It’s not that very good a story but I’m still exhausted and loopy from our 11-MILE RUN! and that’s all I got.
Campanile!
Oh, yeah: Did I mention that WE RAN 11 MILES!
(Minus about 3/4 miles for walk breaks, but still.)
• The 5.5-mile turnaround on our route is out in the middle of a cornfield and along a lonely highway.
• It seems REALLY FAR.
• Plus NO SHADE.
• Our route also runs under two highways that we think are 30 and 380, but it would be cool for them to be labeled along the route just to quell our curiosities.
• I like the word quell.
• Quell.
• It would also be cool if the lonely country road were labeled to quell the curiosities of people on the trail.
• There’s that word again.
• I’m on a roll!
• Anyway, I have NO idea what highway it might be.
• We saw four hot guys running on the trail with their shirts off.
• I didn’t get any of their numbers.
• But the one in the yellow shorts ...
• Wow.
• (Call me.)
• I have some kind of knee soreness that feels like it might become a bit of a problem over time.
• Stay tuned for updates—I’m sure I’ll bitch about it here ad nauseam if it gets worse.
• I also love the term ad nauseam.
• Though people often misspell it with an -um ending.
• Don’t do that.
• On one of our first long runs on the Cedar River Trail, I swear I noticed an old-timey wooden staircase overgrown with weeds and climbing up a hill from the trail to a dense thicket of woods.
• Which, of course, is evidence of witches.
• I like the word thicket.
• Thicket.
• Rob and Scott didn’t see the staircase, and I was so exhausted and hurting along the run that I truly considered the possibility that I’d hallucinated it.
• Or I’d missed my opportunity to visit Brigadoon.
• We’ve been looking for it on our long runs ever since, with no luck.
• So my money was on Brigadoon instead of witches.
• Anyway, I FOUND IT AGAIN TODAY.
• So maybe I’m a witch.
• It isn’t as old-timey as I remember it, but it definitely climbs from the trail through a bunch of overgrown weeds to the nowhereness of a thicket of woods.
• So it’s definitely witches.
• Thicket.
• Anyway, if you want to see it or you’re looking for a local coven to join, it’s at mile 4.4 on your right as you head south on the trail from its intersection with the Lion Bridge.
• WE RAN 11 MILES, PEOPLE!
• Quell.
• Ad nauseam.
• Thicket.
• Campanile.
One final note: I took all my non-car keys off my car key ring before the run so they wouldn’t bounce and jingle in my pocket for 2.5 hours, and I randomly left them on my bed before I headed off to run. When I came back exhausted and slightly loopy and for some reason holding my glasses in my hand instead of wearing them on my face, I saw the copper-brown lump sitting there and my first thought was that the cat had pooped in my bed.
It’s not that very good a story but I’m still exhausted and loopy from our 11-MILE RUN! and that’s all I got.
Campanile!
Friday, February 16, 2018
Flashback Friday: Dilated To Meet You Edition
Seven years ago today there was fresh snow everywhere in Chicago, refracting every beam and glint of sunlight with laser focus directly into my dilated eyes.
Now when there's fresh snow everywhere in Cedar Rapids, there's fresh snow. End of story. Because I’m not stupid.
Friday, January 12, 2018
First day at the new office!
With the photography studio! And the mannequin graveyard! Which I prefer to call the mannequin forest! Because it’s less deathy! And more poety! Because I’m a writer! And a spin artist! Who talks in phrases! And wastes exclamation points! Yay!
(Oh—and new glasses!)
Thursday, January 11, 2018
I just got my new glasses!
Plus I got a haircut first for the requisite selfie! Because vanity! And selfie! And an opportunity to say requisite!
Friday, September 22, 2017
Flashback Friday: Mall Portraiture Edition
Sunday, September 03, 2017
I ran 6.2 miles for an Easy-Bake Medal?
Guess who also just declared a winner for the ugliest race medal he's received in 27 years of running.
Lightning round! Guess who also desperately needs a shower and a nap.
Thursday, December 29, 2016
Headwound World
One caveat: if you are an international supermodel applying to make out with me, please note that my upper right lip -- which I almost completely bit through at Headwound World -- is still rather swollen and quite painful and is preventing me from doing a thorough job of brushing the front of my upper right teeth. Please complete your Jake Make-Out Application Packet as usual but -- if you are approved for the program -- you'll now have to allow up to five minutes beforehand for me to find a mint. We assure you this situation is temporary and we regret any inconvenience this may cause you. Thank you for your consideration.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
10 days with glasses
Zero days with headaches! Woo-hoo!
So I survived my first week back on the four-eyes stolen-lunch-money bus, and while getting my eyes used to seeing the world through what seemed like dirty water for a few days took some getting used to, I didn’t go home from work once with a headache last week. Which is five fewer headaches than I’ve brought home in weeks past.
And since my new goggles are only for reading and computer stuff—which happens primarily at work, where I don’t think I have ever had blog-worthy party pictures taken—I tried to take a self-portrait to show you-all what I look like in rimless glasses.
Unfortunately, ambient bathroom lighting + low-quality iPhone photo technology = barely-there rimless glasses in this otherwise award-worthy self-portrait:
See that shower curtain in the background? I hung it in early December when we finished the bathroom renovation. I’ve washed and dried it three times since then. So why does it still stubbornly hold onto the fold marks from its days in its store packaging?
Speaking of cheap shit, remember the little face-clinging disposable sunglasses I got when my eyes were dilated? (You should, because the pic of me sporting them has been the only thing on my blog for the last 15 days.)
They were too cute to throw away and too weird to actually wear in public. Fortunately, we have a prisoner in our home we’re not above embarrassing with cheap costume pieces. The poor guy has been forced to wear Santa hats all through Christmas season every year … and now he’s stuck wearing cheesy cheap (like Velveeta!) sunglasses until we get bored and release him from his misery. Or until the cheap glasses pop off and roll across the floor under the couch:
So I survived my first week back on the four-eyes stolen-lunch-money bus, and while getting my eyes used to seeing the world through what seemed like dirty water for a few days took some getting used to, I didn’t go home from work once with a headache last week. Which is five fewer headaches than I’ve brought home in weeks past.
And since my new goggles are only for reading and computer stuff—which happens primarily at work, where I don’t think I have ever had blog-worthy party pictures taken—I tried to take a self-portrait to show you-all what I look like in rimless glasses.
Unfortunately, ambient bathroom lighting + low-quality iPhone photo technology = barely-there rimless glasses in this otherwise award-worthy self-portrait:
See that shower curtain in the background? I hung it in early December when we finished the bathroom renovation. I’ve washed and dried it three times since then. So why does it still stubbornly hold onto the fold marks from its days in its store packaging?Speaking of cheap shit, remember the little face-clinging disposable sunglasses I got when my eyes were dilated? (You should, because the pic of me sporting them has been the only thing on my blog for the last 15 days.)
They were too cute to throw away and too weird to actually wear in public. Fortunately, we have a prisoner in our home we’re not above embarrassing with cheap costume pieces. The poor guy has been forced to wear Santa hats all through Christmas season every year … and now he’s stuck wearing cheesy cheap (like Velveeta!) sunglasses until we get bored and release him from his misery. Or until the cheap glasses pop off and roll across the floor under the couch:
Monday, February 07, 2011
Odds and ends. But mostly odds.
It’s really hard being absolutist about stuff. Well, it’s hard most of the time. For example, I think Sarah Palin and Glenn Beck serve one purpose: giving low-information citizens the emotional permission they’re looking for to stay uneducated, hostile and solipsistic. I loathe Sarah and Glenn and I can barely be civil to their followers who keep giving them a platform to spread their pseudo-intellectual cancer. And I see no gray areas in this matter. Unfortunately, as an absolutist, I see no gray areas in lots of places. For instance! My abandonment of Coke Zero. I enjoyed my last Coke Zero on January 2 (I prefer to start my self-deprivations on Mondays) and while I want to drink another Coke Zero more than I want to choke Sarah Palin with the empty cup, cheating on my resolution is tantamount to quitting it altogether. So I can’t allow myself even a tiny little sip in my withdrawal process.
I am full of gray areas regarding this blog. I clearly don’t write in it much anymore, even though deep down I really want to. But I’ve just grown lazy and complacent about it. And as an absolutist I should just abandon it altogether. But then I’ll be minding my own business at a street fair or a diner or—as was the case this weekend—a lesbian birthday and suddenly a stranger will pop up and start saying nice things to me about my writing and my weird sense of humor and how he or she really, really, really looks forward to my posts and then I think SHIT. Now I have to go write in it again. And I’ll write a few more posts and then I’ll get lazy and then I’ll think I should just shut it down and then another pesky fan will pop up and peskily say nice things about my blog and the cycle peskily starts over. Darn you, pesky fans! Darn you like a sock!
My socks are in a permanent state of wetness. Because it’s snowier here than a girl who lives with seven tiny men in the woods. And I seem to have a highly advanced sense of puddle-dar. Because I keep stepping in calf-deep piles of snow and slush and wetness and then spending the day in wet socks. And the snow here is so deep and so copious that there’s no chance it will be gone any time soon. So I’m now carrying extra socks in my gym bag everywhere I go. And while we’re on the topic of the blizzard, I quickly grew tired last week of predictable little neologisms like snowpocalypse and snowmageddon and snOMG. So I wielded my considerable blogging and Facebooking influence to get everyone to start calling the blizzard Snownadu—which is both an homage to my favorite song ever plus a nod to the fabulous disco-ball effect you get when you cover a city in almost two feet of snow. But Snownadu never took off. Which is a total snowdgedy.
The snow is extra sun-glinty when your eyes are dilated. I went to the eye doctor on Saturday for the first time in probably five years. And I stumbled out an hour later with enormous pupils and an $855 bill for a checkup and ultra-expensive new glasses (because they looked better than the cheap ones and if I’m gonna start wearing glasses post-LASIK I want to look totally badass, or at least slightly handsome). But! Enormous pupils are not the ideal accessory for a sunny day in a city blanketed by a Snownadu (see how easy that is?). So I was forced to wear temporary roll-up sunglasses (because I forgot to pack real sunglasses even though I knew I’d be dilated) in my cab ride (because I didn’t think I should drive—especially in two feet of snow—with dilated pupils) home. Unfortunately, I wasn’t too proud to take a self-portrait. Or too smart to post it on my blog:
I am full of gray areas regarding this blog. I clearly don’t write in it much anymore, even though deep down I really want to. But I’ve just grown lazy and complacent about it. And as an absolutist I should just abandon it altogether. But then I’ll be minding my own business at a street fair or a diner or—as was the case this weekend—a lesbian birthday and suddenly a stranger will pop up and start saying nice things to me about my writing and my weird sense of humor and how he or she really, really, really looks forward to my posts and then I think SHIT. Now I have to go write in it again. And I’ll write a few more posts and then I’ll get lazy and then I’ll think I should just shut it down and then another pesky fan will pop up and peskily say nice things about my blog and the cycle peskily starts over. Darn you, pesky fans! Darn you like a sock!
My socks are in a permanent state of wetness. Because it’s snowier here than a girl who lives with seven tiny men in the woods. And I seem to have a highly advanced sense of puddle-dar. Because I keep stepping in calf-deep piles of snow and slush and wetness and then spending the day in wet socks. And the snow here is so deep and so copious that there’s no chance it will be gone any time soon. So I’m now carrying extra socks in my gym bag everywhere I go. And while we’re on the topic of the blizzard, I quickly grew tired last week of predictable little neologisms like snowpocalypse and snowmageddon and snOMG. So I wielded my considerable blogging and Facebooking influence to get everyone to start calling the blizzard Snownadu—which is both an homage to my favorite song ever plus a nod to the fabulous disco-ball effect you get when you cover a city in almost two feet of snow. But Snownadu never took off. Which is a total snowdgedy.
The snow is extra sun-glinty when your eyes are dilated. I went to the eye doctor on Saturday for the first time in probably five years. And I stumbled out an hour later with enormous pupils and an $855 bill for a checkup and ultra-expensive new glasses (because they looked better than the cheap ones and if I’m gonna start wearing glasses post-LASIK I want to look totally badass, or at least slightly handsome). But! Enormous pupils are not the ideal accessory for a sunny day in a city blanketed by a Snownadu (see how easy that is?). So I was forced to wear temporary roll-up sunglasses (because I forgot to pack real sunglasses even though I knew I’d be dilated) in my cab ride (because I didn’t think I should drive—especially in two feet of snow—with dilated pupils) home. Unfortunately, I wasn’t too proud to take a self-portrait. Or too smart to post it on my blog:
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