must've stabbed her.

thefrogman:

I’ve had a busy day today. I finally got my flash… which I have no idea how to use. I thought I knew how to use it. I’ve been studying for the last week. I learned what all the buttons did. I watched some videos teaching tips and techniques. But when I actually had the tangible piece in hand and started working with it, I realized I was a total flash noob.

(I guess I should have angled it at the ceiling more.)

After my failures in flashdom it was off to the eye doctor. This is something I have been putting off for years. I was used to my life having a slight blur to it. But it was finally time to bite the bullet and get my ‘balls looked at.

(When you learn this stuff in school, you never forget it later on.)

I was led into a tiny room with strange looking equipment. The assistant told me to put my chin here and my forehead there. He was going to shoot a slight puff of air into my eyes.

I should probably note that I have only one true phobia. Stuff in my eyes. I think I would have a panic attack and die before I could get a contact lens in. But a puff of air? I’m sure I can handle that.

He did the first eye and I let out a girlish yelp. He said, “Let’s do the other eye!” and I shook my head like a stubborn 2 year old. I finally put my head back on the thingy and got my second puff. I made sure my yelp was much more manly this time.

Next up was the peripheral vision video game. This was much more pleasant. I looked into this ancient magnified backlit screen and saw a big black dot. He told me that whenever I saw a wavy line I should click the button. I am happy to report that I received a perfect score. So I wouldn’t try attacking me from the sides. I will see you and stab you with my steely knives.

(I just can’t kill the beast.)

Finally I was off to sit in the big chair and see the optomolo… optomi… the eye doctor. They projected some letters of various sizes onto the wall and made me read them. The thing is, they didn’t change the chart after each test. I had memorized the last two lines and wasn’t sure if I was seeing them or just remembering them. My memory has great vision, but my eyes do not.

“What does the second to last line say?”

“APE CFL. Just like last time.”

I found this easy to remember because I kept thinking of an environmentally conscious ape. You see, he just switched all his light bulbs from incandescents to compact florescents. He likes them because they last longer and use less energy, but he still thinks the color temperature is a bit sterile. Republicans tried to scare him with talk of deadly mercury inside the curly-cues. But Mr. Ape knows that he would have to snort the mercury like cocaine to actually be effected by it.

(buy this stock photo for only $39.50!)

I DIGRESS…

The doctor swiveled over the giant flippy lens apparatus and began to hone in on my proper prescription. He would say, “This one or this one?” It was clearly vocalized for the first few, but his verbalization soon turned into differently pitched grunts thereafter. Not sure how to type that. “BLERG or blrg?”

We finally reached the optimum lens combo and I could read APE CFL like nobody’s business. It was time to select my frames. I headed over to the small showroom and was suddenly surrounded by giant spinny things full of glasses. They said, “These walls filled with fancy glasses as far as the eye can see……. are not covered by your insurance. You must select from these two spinny things.”

My dreams of Kanye spectacles were dashed.

(I can’t see shit.)

The problem with my 7 year old glasses is that they are very delicate. I spend most of my day in bed so they would always get bent up and mangled from my spastic head movements. I will admit, they are pretty attractive glasses. Let me take a picture of them for you.

(AHHHHHH SHARKFARTS GODDAMMIT ALL TO HELL TOO MUCH FLASH HOW DO YOU WORK THIS SUMBITCH)

I decided that I needed a sturdy pair of glasses with thick rims made of unbreakable material. I needed… hipster glasses. Only my lenses would be real and not made of air.

I spun the spinny thing and found the thick rimmed hipster selection. Then I noticed a similar pair that didn’t quite fit the hipster look. By Jove, they were Clark Kent glasses. An entire secret identity waiting inside a pair of spectacular spectacles. Those were the ones for me. By day, mild mannered blogger, Ben Grelle, posts cat pictures with silly captions. But when danger calls, he merely flicks off his eye wear. Who is this majestically bearded wonder of a man? …

Crap… wrong GIF.

There we go.

The Frogman is perfect.