Tag Archive: the hangover

Going to the dentist no longer upsets me. Walking into a doctor’s office does not make me nervous. Make me go to the eye doctor, and you might get a slap across the face. I fucking hate going.

It’s not like I’m freaked out by eyes or think that it’s gross to touch my eyes or whatever.  I wear contacts- it’s a way of life. I just hate everything about the experience of going to the eye doctor.

It goes back to a few years ago, probably. Maybe even when I was in high school. To be quite honest, I’m not sure when it happened, but it definitely started when I had boobs. And could go places without the help of my parents.

Clear as day, I remember making an appointment to get my eyes checked to get another year-supply of contacts. I wasn’t PO’d about going, in fact I was pretty okay with the whole thing because I actually enjoy trying on different frames to see what I’d look like if I had cooler glasses than the pair I currently have. Anyway, everything was going just fine until the part where I actually go called to go into the tiny little room where the eye exam is actually conducted.

I don’t know what it is, but the most important requirement for becoming an eye doctor must be that you’re creepy as fuck.

I swear to God, it doesn’t matter how many places I go, how many times I switch carriers or even what day and time I make an appointment. Every single time, I get a new eye doctor. It’s always a dude and there is always something slightly not right about him.

It seems like every time I go, the guy is probably the same age as my dad, and is always just… inappropriate. For example, as he speaks to me about his wife and teenage daughter who “probably isn’t much younger than you haahaha” he just stares directly at my boobs.

No thank you!

We are not in any place for that to be okay with me. Please look away, sir, and behave as though your wife and teenage daughter can see you. Meaning: get the fuck away from me.

I can think of one- ONE!- who was actually hot and I didn’t mind that he was all up in my grill as he was asking me, “One, or two? Two, or three?”  We laughed over stories of drunken antics and quoted lines from The Hangover. Him, I was totally fine with. I didn’t even hold it against him when he had to drop that sticky yellow stuff into my eyes and then poke at my eyeball with a plastic instrument.

The man who checked out my eyes today at least drew attention to the fact that he may be a creeper.  He told me he was going to “tuck in a little closer” for the part where he flips his little lenses in front of my eyes to see how blind I am.  He told me to move my hand so he didn’t “seem like a pervert” or “creepier” than I already thought he was.

I laughed awkwardly but really just wanted all of it to be over.  Too right he was.

I mean, I wasn’t sexually harassed or anything but it’s just so uncomfortable. Too bad it’s something I must put up with once a year.  A necessary evil.

C’est la vie.


On Monday morning, one of my coworkers alerted me that the world was predicted to be ending this coming Friday, as in Tomorrow. She said she heard on the radio that we could forget about coming into work on Saturday because the world was ending Friday night. I don’t know if this was a national prediction or if it was just one that was spread through West Michigan, but either way, I guess people were pretty serious about it on Monday morning.

Obviously, she was sharing this news with us to mock the crazy people who 1.) predicted this, and 2.) called into the radio station to discuss their plans for the week to prepare for the world ending on Friday night.  In fact, the seven minutes following her divulgence of this information, those of us in the office mocked the general public and made sarcastic comments about not being “saved” and how we’d be left on earth to face Hell (except I was serious about experiencing hell- because let’s get real, I’m definitely on God’s shit list).

Seriously, if I’m going to believe anyone about the world ending, I’m going to believe the Mayans or Aztecs or whoever the fuck came up with that calendar that ends in 2012. (I’m clearly well-versed in end-of-the-world conspiracy theories.) I just feel like that’s probably legit.  At least, more legit than some rando hyper-religious alcoholic/meth-head cult leader sitting in a lazyboy in the middle of a corn field during his four day bender shouting at his cows that the world is going to end. I mean, that profile may not be accurate, but it’s probably pretty close.

If the world does end tomorrow night, though, I’m gonna be pretty pissed.  I did not live this week as if it was my last.  I mean, I did get drunk on a Monday night and I did get to color code my planner up to the first week of July, but that is just not enough.  I mean, just today I spent my free time this evening finding a new ringtone, doodling in my econ notebook because I didn’t feel like thinking, poking around on facebook, twitter and tumblr, making dinner and taking care of Chiefy, who, incidentally, is experiencing some health issues.

The world just can’t end tomorrow. I haven’t had a chance to wear out my new ringtone. I haven’t had a chance to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2. I haven’t gone on my Study Abroad trip yet! I still have Taylor Swift’s concert to look forward to in July. My driver’s license doesn’t expire until 2013! I have food in the fridge that is still good after tomorrow.

Even if the world ends tomorrow and a bunch of people get to be saved by Jesus, I hope I’m left here.  With all the other ruffians and rejects. It’ll probably be more fun anyway because the only people left will be those with a sick sense of humor and a moral compass that doesn’t point due north, like myself. We’ll have a blast. And that way, I can still use my non-expired driver’s license and enjoy all the food still in the fridge. And all of Hollywood will still be here (because they’re fucked), so I can still see HP7.2 in July when I get home from Europe. Basically, my life will be no different.

So, I guess, here’s what I have to say about the end of the world, should it come tomorrow night: bring it. I’m ready.

I guess this might see unrelated, but maybe I'll do this sexy hair shake in preparation for the world ending.

So, there’s this movie that cracks me up every time I watch it.

Okay, there are actually several movies that could fit within that statement

For example, 10 Things I Hate About You, Stepbrothers, Pineapple Express, The Hangover, and Open Season just to name a few.

The movie of which I was actually speaking is She’s the Man.

Practically everything in that movie is hilarious. I don’t know how people can hate it. Sure, I’m aware that it’s pretty dumb, but it’s beyond hilarious. Plus, Channing Tatum is a total fox. Boner.

I hate to say that there is one “best part” but the character Eunice certainly ranks up near the top of the best parts of the movie. She’s so perfectly awkward. The actress they found to play her did a great job. She might be my favorite character in the whole movie!

Near the end of the movie, there’s a scene where Eunice is walking backwards, counting the number of steps she’s taking in a whisper to herself.

I love this. I love it SO much.

I can’t even explain why, really, but it is so funny to me that she’s doing that.

Recently, like within the last week, I keep having this urge to walk backwards for everything I do. It always makes me think of Eunice and it makes me GOL (giggle out loud) to myself. Especially at work. I don’t know what it is, but that’s pretty much the only time I think to myself, oh, now’s a good time to walk backwards for no reason and then announce to everyone around me “what if I walked backwards for everything I did always?!”

That usually elicits weird looks so then I stop. Or forget that’s what I was doing.

Anyway, yeah, I don’t know. I did it again tonight but quickly forgot about how I was going to walk backwards everywhere when I decided to go sneak up on Chief when he was sleeping. He hates when I do it. I think it’s precious when he looks at me with his tired eyes, like he’s saying “I hate you so much for doing that but I don’t really hate you because you talk to me and play with me and I’m a dog and couldn’t hate you if I tried because you’re my owner and I love you.”

If you haven’t seen She’s the Man, you probably should Netflix it and watch it. Then we could quote the movie back and forth and make all kinds of references to it because it’s that funny.

I have issues with my eyes.

Before this year, I could go weeks- months, even!- without changing my contacts. All of a sudden, this year, like clockwork, my eyes let me know it is TIME to change my contacts.

Also, lately, at night, my eyes do this weird thing where they just… don’t really work very well. Mostly because my contacts get fuzzy and my eyes just don’t like it. Megan calls it night blindness.

Here is another fact for you: I’m a terrible driver.

Now, I know you’re probably wondering how these are all related. Let me tell you, friends, they’re not really related at all.  Except, of course, that they kind of are.

It seems that despite the fact that all of these things are true, people still choose to

1) get in a vehicle with me

2) allow me to drive

3) allow me to drive with them in my vehicle in the evening hours

People fear for their lives.

Well, hello! I can’t see!

And it has nothing to do with my prescription. My eye doctor is sexyyyyy and quoted lines from The Hangover back and forth with me and was not married. Win. Win. Win. My prescription is totally perfect and my contacts work. Except when they don’t. Which is exactly every two weeks (I should really follow accuvue’s instructions.)

Something magical happened, though. Just last Friday, my contacts started doing that weird thing. That thing that makes it feel like I have acid in my eyes. It makes me feel like my cornea is conspiring with my retina, like they’re packing up their belongings and getting the eff out of town until I decide to take care of them and replace the plastic that covers them on a daily basis.

Last Friday, I took my contacts out. And washed them down the sink. (I don’t know if that’s okay to do but I do it sometimes.) I did this, knowing I didn’t have back-up contacts with me. I also knew there was no way I was going to be wearing my glasses for days. I already did that a couple times this year because my eyes were so angry with me. So, being resourceful and part-genius, I asked Drew if he had contacts with my same prescription because last time I knew we totally matched. He said he did.

It wasn’t until I washed my contacts away that he/we realized he most definitely does not have the same prescription as I do. He is -4.00 and -3.50. That is not the same as -3.75 in each eye.

Remember how I said I was part-genius? The part that is not-so-genius asked, “Should I just wear one of each to balance it out??”

Drew said, “No.”

We decided that I was to wear the -4.00s in each of my eyes. The magical thing is that I can see just fine! Imagine that!!

I’m still a terrible driver, and my passengers last night to and from seeing A-Team still risked their lives, but I noticed a difference. Ever-so-slightly, there was an improvement.

Megan even noticed. I know this because when she asked me if I wanted to hang out tonight, she said this:

you gonna put Drew’s contacts in again so you can drive?

Would you consider yourself a “good driver?” Do you have a friend who makes you grab the “oh shit!” bar when they drive? Have you ever thrown up in someone’s car?? Share a driving story in a comment!!