Safety glasses over the contacts…

A few blogs back I explained why I have two different colored eyes.

I don’t know if I mentioned it or not–you are lucky to get the link–but the vision in the bad eye is horribly bad. It can only be corrected to 20/40. I couldn’t even tell you what it is uncorrected, but I’m legally blind in it, so that should be enough.

About two years ago I went to Sears Optical* to get my vision checked so I could get some new contacts and glasses.

It’s always amusing when opticians check out my eye for the first time because they always do a double take. Apparently, I have a lot of scaring on the bad eye, due to the operations I have had on it. And it’s always the same conversation…

“Hmmmmm,” they’ll say, as they use the super-duper magnifying lens on my eyes.

“If you are wondering, then yes, it’s scar tissue. I’ve had a few operations on it.” I’ll say.

“How did…” they’ll start.

Then it’s my cue to go through the same old story–not that I mind, people seem to find it entertaining and, apparently, I am here to entertain.

So I go through the rigmarole with the new doc and get the scripts from him so I can pick out my glasses and order my contacts.

Then he said something never said to me before.

“You should also order some safety glasses to wear when you are wearing your contacts.”

Huh? And I think “huh” was what I said then, too.

“So you can protect your good eye. You don’t want to risk anything happening to it, do you?”

What. The. Fuck.

The thought had never crossed my mind. Sure, it’s probably come to the crosswalk before in times of danger (like when I got nailed with a snow/iceball right in the good eye), but I always told that motherfucker to go back into his hole. I didn’t want to hear his negative ass. I have enough problems to keep me occupied than to worry about something that may or may not happen.

In over 24 years of going to the eye doctors, NONE have suggested that. Not one. And I’ve been to the top doctors in the country.

I don’t blame the guy. I mean he was only looking out for my best interests. But, fuck, man. Like I need that over my head.

I get contacts for three reasons:

1. The right eye drifts like a motherfucker when I don’t wear a contact in it. And it has to be a contact because if they were to put the power in glasses, I’d be walking around all cockeyed and shit because one lens would be thin and the other would be about six feet thick.

2. So I can wear sunglasses. Sunlight is a bitch when your pupil doesn’t dilate.

3. SO I DON’T HAVE TO WEAR GLASSES. Oh, and while I’m thinking about it, you motherfuckers that wear glasses, but don’t need them, can go straight to hell.

The pisser is, due to my obsessive compulsive nature, the thought of something happening to my good eye comes out of his hole much, much more often, now. Before, the bastard would only come out if some serious shit was going down–like a three car pileup in his front yard.

Now the little fucker comes out just to smile and say hi. Prick.

*on a side note, don’t ever go to Sears Optical in the Annapolis Mall. Thieving bastards. Another blog, another time. Just trust me on this.

More updates necessary…

Recently I found out my blog has been linked on two different sites.

Wow. And that is not a sarcastic wow, or indifferent wow. That’s a wow as if it had the exclamation point. But I’m not a big fan of the exclamation point, thus just the period.

It’s kind of flattering, without the ‘kind of’ part.

I’ve been asked on a couple different occasions why I started a blog. And it’s an easy answer. I started it on the recommendation of a friend. That’s it. I had asked this friend how to be a better writer. I write reviews for (linked on the right) and, soon, (also linked on the right). I wanted to write the best reviews possible. My friend said the best way to be a better writer is to always write. And the best way to always write is to start a blog and keep it updated.

I took his advice, as it was sound.

I never intended it to be anything more than a bitchfest. Hell, the first couple months, I barely updated.

I threw the link of my blog into my signature at Horrortalk and I got a few requests from some friends to update. Honestly, I would be lying if I didn’t think that was cool. Someone not only read my crap, but they wanted more. That’s hella-cool.

So I updated.

And then some friends started blogs.

So I updated some more, to keep up with them. I know it’s not competition, but, to me, I didn’t want to be left behind. Also, dammit, some of the blogs they started are pretty damn good and I want to be as funny and as articulate as some of the blogs I read. So I have to keep updating.

Now this. The links.

Now I have to discipline myself to update even more. Dammit.

But that’s a good dammit.

I appreciate the nods, Aric and Ms. Spinster. Considering the quality of the sites I’m being linked from, it’s a high honor.

And to those who read this and even leave a comment or two on occasion, I appreciate you as well.

I have said before, and I’ll say it again, if I didn’t have readers, I would still write. I need to if I want to be better at my reviews. But because of you guys and gals, I write more than I probably would if I didn’t think people were reading, and that helps me.

I have to stop now before I start putting Bette Midler song quotes in the mix. Then I’d have to eat some scissors, The Dead Zone style.


The story of the Pennsylvania stalking trip.

About two months ago, or so, I noticed Brian Keene was going to be doing a signing in Union Town, PA. Since I have family up there, I figured it would be a pretty cool roadtrip, as I have not been on a solo roadtrip in ages.

I headed up Thursday evening and went straight to my aunt and uncle’s place. Since the signing wasn’t until Friday, it was a good time to catch up with my family. I would elaborate more on them, but that’s another blog. Great people though. I don’t think they are related to the rest of my nutty ass family.

Anyway, Friday rolls around and I get up late, do a little shopping at Gabriel Bros. (which is, hands down, the best outlet store I’ve ever been in), bought some low-budget DVDs from a kick ass video store and basically dicked around until about 5 or so. Once 5 hit, I headed up to the signing, which was about a half hour away.

I hit Union Town mall at about 5:30 or so. The plan was to hit Keene up for some ‘graphs, BS a little, do some shopping and hopefully have a drink with the man when he stopped signing at 8.

Two things went wrong…

1. Keene was signing until 9, not 8.
2. The mall was not the size of a mall I was used to. It wasn’t half the size of malls I was used to. It was probably a quarter the size of malls I was used to.

So I was pretty much done by 7. Shit.

There were only so many times I could walk by Keene’s table while pretending not to look at him. Or stare at the wall. You know what I’m talking about.

Finally, I said fuck it. What can you do? So I went over to bullshit with him. And try to look busy when business came up. I hope I suceeded.

Long story short, Keene is a great guy. He is probably one of the most approachable people I know, famous or not. Down to earth and funny as hell.

After the signing, Keene, Scott, Kat, Sheldon and I went out for a drink and had a bullshit session on the horror genre in general. After we polished off our beers, we headed over to this guy Steve’s house, where he gave me an autographed copy of his novel Oogie Boogie Central.

Most definite good times.

A couple of shoutouts in order…

– Dude, I’ve read some of the preview in the back of Terminal. The part about BS being a big pussy. I assure you, I laughed my ass off. But that’s all I read of it. I don’t know if it’s me milking it, or nerves, but either way, you’re getting an email. Good times, bro.

– Thank you to you and your family for welcoming me into your home. And thanks for the book, too. I finished up the one I was reading last night and I will start yours tomorrow. I assure you I will live up to my promise of shooting you an email with my thoughts.

Sheldon, Scott and Kat – Good times, you shall get my email soon pointing you in the right directions for more conversations.

All in all, a fanfuckingtastic time.


The power of Skittles and Dew…

As mentioned yesterday, this weekend I went to Pennsylvania. I made pretty good time, but it would have been better if it weren’t for the backup in Frederick.

I left DC about 2:00 (thanks to my boss for letting me cut out early!) and hit the road before rushhour took over. I was making pretty good time until I hit Frederick, where it became bumper to bumper for about 1/2 an hour.

Since I was making pretty good time, anyway, this backup didn’t really bother me. What did bother me was the soccer mom behind me completely up my ass. How did I know she was a soccer mom? Because every so often she was trying to get ahead, and she’d jump over in the right lane in her yellow SUV and the cute little soccer ball on the back window. Gag.

And being the asshole that I am, and since she pissed me off by riding my ass for no reason, I would not let her around me. Look, I don’t use the left lane if I’m not passing, or trying to pass. And I hate people that do. And I hate people that get up on my bumper when there is obviously nowhere for me to go.

Finally, traffic started to pick up some and people starting getting a good clip going. It was still a little thick, but things were finally moving. I was going along with the flow of traffic and soccer mom got behind me and started riding my ass. Again. I’m talking so close, I couldn’t see the bitch’s bumper.

So, being the child that I am (and believe me, I know this is childish), I hocked up a good loogie (skittles and mountain dew has mad loogie power), rolled down the window, and let it fly. Statistically, I should have missed her. But I don’t think I did.

Why else would she whip around from behind me and give me the finger as she passed?

I laughed and gave her a little wave.

Drive safe, sunshine.

A special place in hell…

I got back today from a trip to Pennsylvania to see my family and hit a Brian Keene signing.

I have a seperate blog for both the signing and my family coming soon, but not right now.

Right now, I just want to thank all of those drivers who ride the left lane and pace the car in the right, thus not allowing me to pass them.

There’s a special place in hell for you.