Angry Optometry
Yep, it's that time of month again. Us men don't get to experience the natural wonder that is menstration (really, shouldn't it be called ladystration?), so I compensate by remembering to write in my blog. Yep, it's been exactly a month since my last post, but have an excuse- we've had no internet at my house. Didn't pay the bill and all that.
Anyway, I suppose I better say something exciting... er, I got contact lenses? Actually that was a strange experience. You see, I had a completely and utterly insane optometrist. She was this stumpy little woman with big hair, a wonky eye and buck teeth. And you know those people that treat you like a four year old who just wet his pants? Well, she was one of em. It took me about an hour to actually jam the contacts in my eyes and rip them out again, and the whole time she was gently murmuring "oh yes, nice try maxy, oooh, that was close, you're getting better!" The actual process of sticking that thin slice of plastic in my eyeball was the most frustrating thing I'd attempted since learning to read, and her playschool host blubbering didn't help one bit.
About half an hour into this eyepoke torture, she suggested using both hands to hold my eye open, and I lightheartedly joked that then I wouldn't have any hands left to put the contact in. And suddenly, she just snapped.
"DON'T ARGUE WITH ME! OH WHAT WOULD I KNOW, I'M JUST AN OPTOMETRIST! YOU JUST GO AHEAD AND DO IT YOUR WAY..."
"sorry i was just..."
"NO YOU DO IT THE WAY YOU THINK IS RIGHT, YOU'RE OBVIOUSLY AN EXPERT!"
She seriously just lost the plot. I sat there, bewildered, wondering where all this had boiled up from. And, to my horror, after this outburst ended she upped the ante with the babytalk, she became even nicer. I really think that people that talk like that just repress their anger untill it spurts out in a volcano of rage. It's not healthy. Also, never trust an optometrist with a wonky eye. That's like trusting a dentist with false teeth, or getting sex ed lessons from a nun. They clearly have no idea what they're talking about.
After getting my contacts in and out and in again, I left the optometrist store as red eyed as a stoner suffering hay fever. I knew, however, that stepping outside I would be greeted with a spectacular high definition, properly focused view of Adelaide city sprawling in front of me. So I eagerly turn to look at where my view should be, and don't you know it, the whole place is shrouded in smoke from the bushfires on kangaroo island. I've got these wizzbang new eyes and can't see a damn thing.
Oh, the eyerony!
*cringes at the awfulness of the pun*
Anyway, I suppose I better say something exciting... er, I got contact lenses? Actually that was a strange experience. You see, I had a completely and utterly insane optometrist. She was this stumpy little woman with big hair, a wonky eye and buck teeth. And you know those people that treat you like a four year old who just wet his pants? Well, she was one of em. It took me about an hour to actually jam the contacts in my eyes and rip them out again, and the whole time she was gently murmuring "oh yes, nice try maxy, oooh, that was close, you're getting better!" The actual process of sticking that thin slice of plastic in my eyeball was the most frustrating thing I'd attempted since learning to read, and her playschool host blubbering didn't help one bit.
About half an hour into this eyepoke torture, she suggested using both hands to hold my eye open, and I lightheartedly joked that then I wouldn't have any hands left to put the contact in. And suddenly, she just snapped.
"DON'T ARGUE WITH ME! OH WHAT WOULD I KNOW, I'M JUST AN OPTOMETRIST! YOU JUST GO AHEAD AND DO IT YOUR WAY..."
"sorry i was just..."
"NO YOU DO IT THE WAY YOU THINK IS RIGHT, YOU'RE OBVIOUSLY AN EXPERT!"
She seriously just lost the plot. I sat there, bewildered, wondering where all this had boiled up from. And, to my horror, after this outburst ended she upped the ante with the babytalk, she became even nicer. I really think that people that talk like that just repress their anger untill it spurts out in a volcano of rage. It's not healthy. Also, never trust an optometrist with a wonky eye. That's like trusting a dentist with false teeth, or getting sex ed lessons from a nun. They clearly have no idea what they're talking about.
After getting my contacts in and out and in again, I left the optometrist store as red eyed as a stoner suffering hay fever. I knew, however, that stepping outside I would be greeted with a spectacular high definition, properly focused view of Adelaide city sprawling in front of me. So I eagerly turn to look at where my view should be, and don't you know it, the whole place is shrouded in smoke from the bushfires on kangaroo island. I've got these wizzbang new eyes and can't see a damn thing.
Oh, the eyerony!
*cringes at the awfulness of the pun*
posted by Max | 3:15 pm
1 Comments:
I'm with you there...
I tried contacts years ago (about 10) and the prescription was wrong or something. I got them in like you after an hour or so, just to turn around and not be able to see a dang thing!! Frustrating! I got a wicked headache and pulled them out.
I recently tried wearing them again. It took 30 minutes for the first one,.. and after twenty on the second I gave up. My head was pounding! Being able to see half clear/half fuzzy about drove me nuts!
Good luck with them!
Good point on the MEN'station! Never thought about it that way.
You paint a good visual on the stubby lady!
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