Funbags & Brandon Friday March 31, 2006

So to add more stress to this intense period of constant change in my life (which I will now refer to as the ctoverhaul...huh..huh… come on that’s gold. Overdrive/Overhaul! This is genius at work here people!) I got my first pair of contact lens on Tuesday.

Now first things first I despise eye injuries. Eye injuries make me nauseous and squirmy. Not the good vomiting sunshine nauseous, but the bad nauseous. And also not in the good squirmy, but ewww I just wet my pants squirmy. Come to think of it there are only two things that can make me cringe even more than eye injuries – Oiler Fans and those stupid BMX stories of broken scrotums.

Needless to say this is a dramatic step. For the past week I’ve been trying to adjust to the contacts. Which means I’ve been walking around like a meth-head, tweaking out and trying to absorb 360 degrees of 20/20 vision. At the same time the dry conditions have me doing the worst Stoned Clint Eastwood impression. My constant squinting and bloodshot eyes must be doing wonders for my already shoddy workplace reputation.

But all in all I have been enjoying contacts. I really like the freedom of them, but…

The only problem is Funbags. While Brandon (Wait, Sorry, I call my right eye Brandon) loves the contacts. He was able to dive right in and he’s been enjoying his new plastic suit. But Funbags (Up until about Thursday I used to call him Lefty, but that’s changed) has been a prude.

Because of this, putting my contacts on in the mornings is slowly becoming a hassle. At first I accepted the struggle, but now its day four and FunBag’s pigheaded resistance is becoming a nuisance. This is how this morning went:

  • Slip my right contact in over Brandon.
  • Attempt to put left contact in over Funbags.
  • Second attempt to put left contact in over Funbags.
  • Scream at the mirror “Alright Funbags you dirty little bastard, this is going in” (I scream this pretty much ever morning, see the reason for the name change)
  • Third attempt
  • Fourth Attempt
  • Contemplate gouging Funbags with tweezers.
  • Realize I just contemplated stabbing my own eye. Suddenly become nauseous and squirmy.
  • Beg Funbags to cooperate.
  • Achieve my goal and place contact lens on Funbags.
  • Leave house for work and realize contact is in the wrong way.
  • Shed tears of self-defeat.

Categories: The-Personnal, The-Humourous,

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