Tuesday lunch - Portillo's breaded chicken sandwich and cheese fries
Tuesday dinner - Pizza Hut stuffed crust bacon and mushroom pizza with breadsticks
Wednesday breakfast - Cheerios
Wednesday lunch - Pizza Hut meat lovers P'Zone
I don't need you to point out that this is the longest cutscene since the last episode of Family Guy, that I should clearly know why my head is fat, that I am undoing all the work I did at the gym on Monday, or that I should no longer abide by the diet I had when I swam in high school.
Most of you would probably be horrified if you woke up, mentioned that you had a headache and your spouse says "maybe it's from your glasses squeezing your fat head." In my house, this is what we refer to as affection - and a part of a slightly larger story.
Yesterday about halfway through the morning at work, my contact popped out of my extremely irritated eye and when I went to put it back in realized it had a small tear in it. Being that I was at work, didn't have extra contacts on hand and had left my glasses home where they belong, I sucked it up, put the contact back in and went to work.
Two hours of rubbing later (get your head out of the gutter), I decided, at my co-workers urging, that I should go home to take care of the problem. The internal battle on the way home between putting in a new pair of contacts and just dealing with glasses the rest of the day was brutal. I was pretty certain it hadn't been a month since I last changed contacts, which, now that I pay for them myself (growing up sucks), means that in the end I may wind up buying contacts more than once this year. But my glasses, which haven't been replaced in what seems like 10 years (a much skinnier time of my life) are horrible.
Imagine that the Jerry Maguire kid was forced to wear these glasses for the rest of his life. His head grows, but his glasses don't. The glasses get cracked along the way, but he's too cheap to spend his Jerry Maguire money on new ones. That's about where I was.
If you haven't figured it out, I decided to give my eyes a rest and wear the glasses. These are the glasses that my wife used to beg me to wear because they looked good on me. Unfortunately, those days have long since passed. I strolled back in to work, glasses precariously hanging from my ears and put on my best DirectBuy happy face. By this time I had already come to the realization that at some point in the last 10 years, Barry Bonds' agent has started to slip me whatever he was giving Barry and that this is what has happened.
So, after dealing with the quizzical looks at work - for those of you that have not had the contacts to glasses experience, those of us that do typically get several questions around the lines of "do you always wear glasses? No? They look good on you." - I decided it was clearly time for a new pair. I didn't get the questions, just the odd looks, which in my head clearly meant they were thinking - do I need to grab those glasses off his face and return them to the 10 year old that he stole them from?
I proceeded to go home, make dinner, drink 4 Hop Slams and watch 3 episodes of Breaking Bad (still in my glasses). At some point after Breaking Bad had broken my spirit and the Hop Slam had clouded my brain, I decided it was time to broach the subject with my wife. Rather than simply stating that I needed new glasses, I went the over-the-top dramatic route brought on by the 10% alcohol beer and rather emphatically stated that I have a fat head. All my wife could do was laugh - and tweet about the experience - and remind me that the headache I woke up with this morning may not be related to the Hop Slam.
Somehow, purchasing a new pair of glasses is still a debate that is raging in my head - it seems like such a waste of money considering I wear them in public about once every two years. In two years though, the glasses might go from simply irritating the top of my ears (yes, the frame lands squarely on top of my ear) to fitting only if I wear them like frameless spectacles.
For good measure, I leave you with George Costanza. Unfortunately I couldn't find a good clip of him in the lady frames.
No energy for a long, well thought out post this evening. A 7 hour meeting, followed by a 45 minute drive home (typical 15 minute) from work, eating some Slava wings that my wife generously brought home, drinking 2 Fat Tires and 2 Coors Lites, playing 2 hours of video games, a little couch surfing and watching two episodes of Breaking Bad has successfully turned my brain and the rest of my body to mush.
So, I'm laying in bed and my lovely wife is trying to watch a video online, which is constantly buffering. Which made me think, what if someone made a YouTube video which consisted entirely of the "buffering" symbol? It would have to be the most frustrating thing ever on the internet. It's like driving through a city full of skyscrapers refusing to believe that, after the first wrong turn, the foreign lady that yaps at you from your Garmin will ever be able to spit out anything other than recalculating. You keep waiting for some fantastic content, thinking that your internet connection just sucks, only to have the video stop - no content, just buffering. The only thing more frustrating would be if the buffering video ACTUALLY buffers because you really do have a terrible internet connection.
The only image I could come up with that relates to my thoughts right now is M.C. Escher.
Which led to this (sorry for the poor quality):
And at some point in there, I heard this song from The League. If you haven't watched, I understand that you may judge because it's a show about fantasy football - but give it a shot, it's well worth it if you're looking for an R rated sitcom.
Welcome inside my brain on Friday night at 10. I'll be back with something coherent tomorrow, assuming that my wife allows me to use the snow, which no doubt will be cleared off the roads by mid-day tomorrow, as an excuse not to leave the house.
