Saturday, May 1, 2010
Seeing? Who the F@ needs to see? Pfft.
I am starting to question the validity of some vision care providers. My entire experience can be summarized in the series of conversations below.
Doctor: Hello, how are you?
Me: Doing well, thanks.
Doctor: Great. Well, how are your eyes?
Me: They're Okay.
Doctor: And your contacts and glasses, how do you feel those are working for you?
Me: Well, more and more I'm finding it harder to read my computer screen, but I can't tell if that's a problem with my eyes, or...
Doctor: ...Or if you're just looking at it for too long?
Me: Yes, exactly.
Doctor: (laughs) Okay then.
The doctor proceeds to place the supervision goggles in front of my face.
Doctor: What's the lowest line you can read?
Me: Oh, I guess it's...(reading letters. the line is not very far down.)
Doctor: Any lines below that?
Me: No. Anything I say would be an outright guess.
Doctor: Okay.....(flips button on goggles) Is that any better?
Me: A little, I guess.
Doctor: Okay....(flips another switch) tell me when it starts to get clearer.
Me: (After several flips) There, I guess.
Doctor: Okay....Let's look at the other eye.
The same procedure occurs for my other eye. At no point was I able to clearly read any lines lower than my first attempt.
Doctor: Okay, I'm going to dilate your pupils.
Me: Okay.
The doctor inserts the eye drops and leaves for 10 minutes.
Doctor: Okay let's take a look at your retinas.
Me: Okay.
The doctor checks my retinas, then proceeds to type some information on the computer. She runs into a problem inputting some information, and she gestures to the screen completely oblivious to the fact that she already made me take my contacts out and dilated my pupils. From my point of view, her gestures to the computer screen are like me staring at the sun while a cloud passes in front of it.
Doctor: Okay, well, we're going to keep you at the same prescription. The lenses have a different name, but they are the same.
Me: Thank you?
And I was sent on my way.
Am I completely missing something here?
Maybe the lenses don't correct my vision. Maybe they are supposed to motivate my eyes to do a better job of seeing. In which case, that means I have lazy eyes.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Time-Traveling is Fun!
Life is not a movie. As a frequent movie viewer, I have seen many action movies, comedies, dramas, comedy-dramas, dramedies, romantic comedies, comedic romanties, and so on. Art imitates life, not the other way around. in all of my experiences, I am always expecting moments of my life to equate to things I've seen in movies, and I have been met with nothing but disappointment.
Heart-On-Sleeve Syndrome. As jaded as I have become about finding someone, I continue to put myself in a vulnerable state.
Some recent revelations.
1. Extreme kindness can be misconstrued as romantic interest.
2. I cannot interpret "signals".
3. Before you travel halfway across the country to meet up with a girl, make sure she's interested in you.
4. If a girl who has run in multiple marathons asks you to go for a run, and you don't run, don't go for a run with her.
5. If you wait until the end of your trip to try and tell a girl how you feel (in order to avoid awkwardness for the entire trip), it will still be awkward. On top of that, you can't really explain things very well after that.
6. No matter how perfect a day is, I can always manage to mess it up by thinking about it.
7. Don't wear a Superman shirt to the airport. TSA will tear into you like it's Night at the Improv.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Travelling Is Fun!
Security.
I understand the reasons for increased safety precautions. The well-being of airline passengers is very important, considering the fact that I AM one of them. But some measures have been taken that I either do not understand, or cannot believe there are people who still don't "get it".
Instead of just listing items you are not allowed to carry on the airplane, many airports have begun including photos, and in some cases, have a display case with various items you must leave at home. Some of these items are as follows:
- Firearms. OK, no guns. Makes sense to me. Guns can be dangerous.
- Knives/Sharp Implements. Again, makes sense. Knives can be dangerous. While I don't necessarily think a Swiss Army knife is a formidable weapon, better safe than sorry. The restaurant I ate at in the airport actually had plastic silverware that was PAINTED TO LOOK LIKE METAL. Classy.
- Lighters. If you have a lighter, I could see how it might be used inappropriately. Shame on you.
After those big 3, the list gets a little.....questionable.
- Hand Grenades. Seriously? Are there non-military personnel that use these as a form of self defense? Still, I guess they're dangerous. Sure, let's keep hand grenades on that list.
- Throwing Stars. Holy crap. I feel safer already.
- and of course, let us not forget the most dangerous of them all...
- Snow Globes. Yes, that's right, snow globes. Heartfelt souvenir for your 8-year-old niece? Or deadly weapon of choice? You decide. If you're going to get a snow globe, you're going to have to wait until you get past security and purchase one in the airport gift shop. Their selection is pretty limited, but they are the safest snow globes you can buy.
Waiting at the gate.
On my return flight, I had a little extra time than I thought before I could board my plane. I took this time to getting my belongings in order so as to not delay other passengers from boarding the same plane. In the process of moving my boarding pass to my person for easy access, I was not paying attention. The pocket in my bag where I kept my loose change was disrupted, and I lost a small amount of said loose change. Thirty-two cents. Thirty-two one hundredths of one dollar. Three dimes and two pennies, to be more specific. As I have relatively no need for pennies (or dimes, for that matter), I was content to let the change be on the floor and bid it adieu. It was announced that pre-boarding was about to begin. I did not move. I was still, at best, six inches away from the change with which I had just parted ways. A guy walked past me. He then doubled back, WITH HIS FAMILY. He proceeded to KNEEL NEXT TO ME. I then watched him, out of the corner of my eye, pick up thirty-two cents that lay at my feet. Now, I cannot even begin to understand. Maybe this happens all the time, and I am just not witness to it. Maybe he saw the shine of silver, got in closer, and realized it was not a lot of money. At that point, I could see following through with the process, since you're already there. What irked me the most was that this guy said nothing. He was NOT privy to my thought process, I'm sure of it. There was no "Excuse me sir, did you drop this change?", or even a "Pardon me" as he invaded my personal space to collect his undeserved piggy bank fuel. The point is not that I'm a jerk because I discard change that could go to someone more deserving. The point is there are people who will ignore the proximity of someone to something where they do not even assume it belongs to that person. I was glad I had my bag resting safely at my feet. "Hey, free carry-on!"
Babies On a Plane.
Did you see the movie with the snakes? Same thing, except waaaaay more annoying. As I arrived at my seat, I noticed that the person in the row behind me had a baby. You'll notice I didn't say "the man" behind me, which I will explain later. I do not like sitting near strange babies on planes, but since the child was being quiet, I dismissed it. When I sat down, I understood why the baby was quiet. The baby's attention was deeply focused on hitting/kicking the crap out of the back of my seat. Strike One. The rest of the passengers boarded the plane, and I became aware that the seat in front of me was being filled by a girl with another baby. This baby, however was NOT quiet. And after they sat down and were buckled in, I became aware of why Baby #2 was crying. The aromas of human excrement that wafted over the seat in front of me were so powerful, I felt like crying. This baby went hoarse about 15 minutes into the flight, so instead of having the smell of crap and the sound of a baby crying, there was the smell of baby crap and the sound of a ferret with its tail crushed in a door. Strike Two. Strike Three goes to the aforementioned person who held Baby #1 on his lap. This "man" has a personality and an attitude about life that makes me worried for not only the baby, but for any other person who comes into contact with him. If you don't want to be considered a d****bag, here are some DO NOT's: DO NOT talk to your baby like he is your best bud from college. I understand talking to babies. They don't understand you, but it makes them grow accustomed to your voice. However, telling a baby stories of how blitzed you got last Friday is not acceptable. DO NOT make up "cute" stories about your baby to tell strangers. Telling someone you are flying because your baby had his license taken away is NOT as hilarious as it is in your head. And most of all, DO NOT swear to your baby. I'm not talking about swearing IN FRONT OF your baby. TO your baby. As in "Boy, (BABY'S NAME), I am glad to be home. That was a f***ing long-ass flight."
And since this entry is entirely too long, I'll wrap it up with some observations and suggestions to certain people.
To people whose seats are in the back of the plane: STOP PUTTING YOUR BAGS IN THE OVERHEAD BINS AT THE FRONT OF THE PLANE. On a full flight, it's pretty much a given that all compartments will be filled. By my reasoning, this would mean that someone whose seat is near the front of the plane, who has to board last, will end up having to put his bag CLOSER TO THE REAR of the plane. Therefore, to save yourself 10 extra seconds of getting off the plane, you are making some poor soul near the front of the plane wait until everyone else gets off the plane before they can go back and retrieve their bag. Brilliant move.
To people who have the middle seat in any given row: GET ON THE PLANE SOONER. Yes, I know it sucks to get the middle seat. It's something you have little or no control over, as it's usually on a first come/first served basis. But don't be one of the last people on the damn plane. Someone in the aisle made it a point to board the plane in a timely fashion. Show a little respect.
To people in the window seat: SHARE THE DAMN ARM RESTS. The person in the sucky middle seat is already ticked off by the fact that they have the middle seat. Give up one of your arm rests! No one wants to look like their permanently shrugging their shoulders, even for a short flight. Now, I've already thought about it, and I can't make the aisle person give up their armrest. If they were to do that, they would have to shift their weight over the aisle side and risk getting hit with a drink cart, or a large-framed flight attendant. I can't make you give up your arm rest, Aisle Seat, but at least try to share.
To young adults riding on planes: STOP WEARING YOUR PAJAMAS ON THE FLIGHT. I understand being comfortable. I understand being in a hurry to catch an early morning flight, and trying to save time whenever possible. There is no reason to wear pajamas for a flight at 11 o'clock in the morning. Give it up.
To the friendly, talkative guy on the airplane: DON'T BE THAT GUY. Stop preying on people who give you even the most polite response to your loaded ice-breaker statement. I don't make friends on an airplane. I save that for the bus.
To people who like to "crack wise" at the airport. SHUT UP. Yes, flights can be long and uncomfortable. Yes, no one likes to wait too long for their bag at the baggage claim. And yes, the security measures at the airport can be frustrating, and it's not always clear why it takes so long. But please, we don't need to hear your commentary on airline travel...
...Save it for your blog.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Friday, November 23, 2007
A Lesson in Amateur Street Racing (Take 2)
You cannot challenge a driver in the next lane if you are not both at the front of the line at a stoplight. I witnessed a car full of hooligans challenge the car next to them. Neither of these cars were at the front of the line. The light turns green, and this drag race became reliant on the speed of the two cars in front, which I can only assume were driven by escapees of the geriatric wing of the nearest hospital. Humor has no bounds. To see a drag race last a grand total of 0.5 seconds before slamming on the brakes, well, is a beautiful thing. God Bless America.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
I Rock! (Again)
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Can you hear that?
Excuse me while I contemplate the many advantages of owning a chicken costume.