Wednesday, August 15, 2007

It Must've Been The Underpants Gnomes.

As if I, completely sober, might not remember what had happened an inch from my eyes.

A while back, I got a crack in the frame of my sunglasses; since I liked 'em, I went back and got another pair of the same brand only just a little different shape of frame. For under five bucks, they were a sweet deal and quite nice for cheap sunglasses. I'm still habitually careful with 'em -- I'm careful 'cause they're glasses and the careful is a longtime habit (since fourth grade or so), but I usually try to buy cheap ones 'cause there's always a chance they could get dropped or squished or crunched under a car seat. I like this newest pair too; I think I'm going to stay with the "Strike King" brand when I replace 'em.

Sunday afternoon, I sprayed myself with sunscreen and played in the pool. It was nice, we had a great time. I vividly remember the water dripping out of my hair and into my sunglasses as I bent over to put my sandals back on. I've no doubt there was a mix of hair products and sunscreen and generalized pool-water-crud dripping into 'em. When I went inside to change back into my regular clothes, I rinsed 'em off in the bathroom sink and stuck 'em on top of my already-wet hair without drying or wiping the glasses with anything.

Driving home Sunday evening, my sunglasses were grubby but tolerable, so I took 'em in the house with me and when I got ready to go to work Monday morning, I washed 'em with Dial Soap and soapy wet hands; because I've found that to be the easiest way to get 'em clean and smudge-free. After rinsing 'em under running water and shaking 'em almost-dry, I got a clean towel out of the cabinet; a clean towel straight from the laundry that hadn't had hands dried with it or anything and dried 'em off with it.

When I drove to work that morning, those sunglasses were so clean and so nice I made a point not to touch 'em or take a chance of gettin' 'em smudgy. I drove to lunch, I drove home, I drove into Tulsa and back home again, and I enjoyed the magic of clean, streak-free, like-new sunglasses. Same thing comin' in to work Tuesday morning, they were nice and clean when I came in, I laid 'em on my desk a bit, and when I had to go outside and check a VIN, I put 'em on and they were fine. It was a simple trip out the back door, just open a car door, read the numbers and write 'em on a piece of paper. There was no trauma involved, no strange contact with foreign objects; not to my head, or hands, or legs, or anything. Just out the door and back inside, easy as ya please.

I came back inside and went to the back office to hand over the number I'd just written down, and since it's relatively dark in the back office (compared to outdoors, anyway), I left 'em on the table on top of the daily newspaper. When I came back out of the office, I figured I'd better pick 'em up and take 'em back to my desk so I wouldn't forget where I left 'em before I needed 'em again.

An hour or so later when I was about to leave to go to the Post Office, I picked 'em up and put 'em on and my right eye went dim. Seriously, I wondered if I had something wrong with me because I had such a sudden hard time seeing out of my right eye.

I took 'em off immediately, and along with a healthy amount of dirt and crud and possibly someone else's sebaceous secretions, this is what I found:

Now, call me crazy, call me overly suspicious, but I think it looks deliberate. I really think it looks like someone picked 'em up and rubbed 'em with something scratch-inducing -- like maybe one of those shop towels that's got a little gob of machine-shop-metal-twistie stuck in it.

In my years as a full-time glasses-wearer (from fourth grade 'til I got my contacts in ninth grade) and a naturally sebaceous person (I'm genetically oily, just in case that might save y'all a trip to the dictionary), I've come to the conclusion that rubbing glasses dryly around-and-around with something like a t-shirt hem is only goonna spread the smudges around and make things worse -- hence my earlier mention of Dial Soap and running water. If I really have to use the t-shirt hem, I only swipe across once; so I do know without a doubt that I did not rub that pattern into that lens. I know this for certain because I know my habits and I know that those glasses were not dirty when I laid 'em down on top of that newspaper because I'd just been out in the sunshine enjoying the view through nice, clean, non-smudgy sunglasses.

Now, why might I be suspicious enough to think that someone had done it deliberately? Well, that's because someone's been a little irritated with me for turning the "Parental Controls" back on on the PC. Apparently he'd discovered that I forgot to turn 'em back on on one of the computers, so he'd been using that one to p0rn-hunt through Y0uTube and wherever else. I showed the history to the boss, and was told to turn the Parental Controls back on; shortly after I did, I ended up with fucked-up sunglasses.

In the shock of finding the huge round-patterned scratch-o-rama, and in the presence of the suspect, I showed 'em to My Mom with a hearty "What-the hell?" Would you believe the asshole had the nerve to ask me if I "had anything stuck in my shirt tail" and then tell me that I "must've walked into something while I was outside." Fucker. Yeah, I walked into something and kept rubbing my face into it around and around until it completely fucked up my favorite sunglasses. If it had been some kind of "accident" that scratched 'em up that bad, I probably would have lost some forehead flesh as well. Sure, I "walked into something" alright -- I walked right into trusting my own family enough to think I didn't have to worry about shit like that.

So, just because I still think he did it, and just because I'm all about sharing the humor with y'all, Dear Readers, I proudly present a first installment of SCREENSHOTS! Yes, friends and neighbors, these are the Print-Screen files of the stuff that My Brother (the HoMeSkOoL dAd), along with his HoMeSkOoL kIdS, are searching for and looking at on the PC at work, which is sittin' on this counter via a lease from a service provider who can see everything that goes on with it...

For your entertainment, here's a few bits of search history:

(Yes, Go0gle it is, even to find Eb@y or anything else that ends with ".com")

And here's a shot of what Mr. Fundamentalist HoMeSkOoL dAd searches for on Y0uTube:

And when it comes to still pictures, ya can't beat this hottie, not even with a stick!

Check back soon, there's a lot more where that came from!

More later... _\,,/

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