I had to buy a can of compressed air the other day. I wasn’t surprised when they asked me for ID, since I’ve kind of gotten used to that sort of thing. But then I put “I was asked for ID” together with “I was buying air.” Obviously they’re trying to prevent teenagers from getting that sort of stuff and inhaling it as a drug. But now I’m finding myself imagining a bunch of drugged-up air-heads saying things like “Hey guys, let’s go ‘air it out'” or “Dude, you got some serious air on that one.”
This is my own estimated simulation of what I could see before and after LASIK eye surgery. (In this context, simulation basically means that it’s a photoshop blur turned up as far as it could go.) Overall, the surgery was a big success and I would do it over again any day. On the other hand, five separate 200 mile car trips for a surgery that itself only lasted 10 minutes is a little ironic. It’s like building a Rube Goldberg machine for clipping your toenails. And I’m still trying to figure out how a 0.1 oz container of 99.97% water is worth $70 at a pharmacy. But regardless, after a scratched cornea, a rough edge of a cornea flap, 48 eye drops per day, and a quarter million dollars worth of gas, things are looking really good.
Here’s a tip: When you call to verify your new credit card and they ask for the last four digits of your social security number, make sure you don’t accidentally give them your girlfriend’s cell phone number because if you do, you might have to go through the whole 15 minute process of proving that you’re really you, which includes a multiple choice quiz about yourself and your entire life history which makes you wonder how they knew all that stuff about you in the first place, and then make you quote three different phone numbers four different times and then recite your social security number six times and describe all your previously owned cars and give your mother’s maiden name three times and I know this is a really long run-on sentence but it’s okay because I just read part of A Tale of Two Cities which has tons of terribly long sentences so since I want to be a famous writer like Charles Dickens I’m gonna try to copy his style of writing and from the looks of things I’m better at acting like someone else than I am at imitating myself.
I have a somewhat short attention span, so if someone uses big words while they’re talking to me, they might as well say goodbye to my imagination. Recently, someone had the nerve to say the word fosecious right to my face. Don’t ask me what it means. Worse yet, don’t ask me how to spell it correctly. My spell check doesn’t even know how to spell it. Way over my head. I thought about starting a boycott of big words, but the word boycott itself is kind of pushing it.
I’m not very good at making trivial decisions. If it wasn’t for my fiance, I’d still be thinking about what I should have for dinner last Tuesday. So when you stink at making decisions and you’re going to order takeout food, how do you decide whether you should go through the drive thru or walk in and takeout? I pondered this for a while. I was by myself, so there was no one I could ask to make the decision for me. It was cold outside, and I would have to face the weather either by walking out in the cold, or by rolling down my window in the drive thru. I asked my car what I should do, and luckily he answered and my debate was solved. My window was frozen shut.
I really hate to label females as poor drivers, but they leave me no choice. Typically the car that doesn’t have the big red STOP sign has the right of way, correct? At least that’s what I’ve been told. Maybe she had a different driver’s ed teacher, but this girl seemed to think that she could just pull out right in front of me in an icy intersection. I don’t think I’ve ever screeched my tires that hard before. Since she was stopped in front of me, I waited for her to go so I could get out of the dead center of the intersection. When I decided that I wasn’t going to wait any longer I started to pull around her, and as soon as I did she started heading for the side of my car. So I sped up and swerved out of the way. I once again thought I was safe until she zipped up right behind me and started tailgating me. It seemed like she was determined to get me one way or another. So I ran and hid as fast as I could. I guess the method I’ve always used to avoid girls should be practiced both on and off the road.
I’ve always wanted to be famous, and while you shouldn’t start worshiping the ground that I walk on just yet, you might start by worshiping the chair that I sit in. As a matter of fact, my chair starred in the movie Failure to Launch.
I’m very happy for my chair, but I have to admit it’s a little disheartening that my office chair is more famous than I am.