While I was in the recording studio last Monday night with Cliff Glypha and Dick Herculanum, Target Optical called to tell me that my glasses were in, and that I could come pick them up anytime. I tell you what, between listening to the Twins bullpen blow a lead to the Tigers and listening to my voicemail tell me my days of eyes free from the tyranny of glasses, I wished for a brief moment that I was deaf.
This was like Paul Revere announcing the Revolutionary War by yelling "The British are coming!". Or like Paul Revere rapping that he did it like this, he did it like that, he did it with a whiffle bat sooooo...Or like some dude at Target leaving a voicemail saying that the Tyrannical Rule of the Eyeglass Regime was about to attempt a hostile coup of The Kingdom of My Eyes.
Not wanting to give in at the vaguest hint of war, I put off going in to get my glasses until Tuesday at lunch, because my eyes have been good to me for 29 years and they deserved a few more hours of sweet freedom. But on Tuesday, at 12:07 PM, at the Super Target on 168th and Maple, my eyes succumbed to the tyranny of glasses.
Those first moments of putting my glasses on were like few moments before them. I mean, this was life-changing stuff. Your clothes change, your hairstyle changes, but your glasses are there everyday. Sport coat, hoodie, t-shirt, no shirt...the glasses are the constant. They have to look awesome.
I assume they looked awesome, because I'll be damned if I could see anything.
My dad's birthday was last week, and so I needed to buy a card. But because I opted to watch the Twins bullpen blow that lead to the Tigers on TV instead of going out to buy a card and a gift Monday night, I now had to go find something over my lunchhour on Tuesday, with severely impaired vision.
I picked up a card, and thought to myself, "Jeez Louise, they did a sloppy job of cutting this card down." Because it was cut crooked. More trapezoid than rectangle, it was like the printer's paper cutter needed to be adjusted. I knew this because I've had printed pieces come back like that. Once, I got a shipment of 12,000 catalogs that were all cut down uneven due to a bad paper cutter.
But then I looked down the aisle, and EVERY card was this way. As a matter of fact, everything I looked at was crooked. I picked up a cereal box, and Cap'n Crunch's hat was skewed. I picked up a box of lasagna noodles, and they were wider on one end than the other.
Then I got to work, and realized that my computer monitor was one inch taller on the right than on the left. Every rectangle was a trapezoid. Every circle was an oval. Every horizontal line was angled upward 2 degrees. Its hard to design like this, let me tell you.
I took some photos that afternoon, and they were all angled between 2-5 degrees up. That's OK if you're the cinematographer for "Batman 1966" and you're filming a scene with the villians. That's BAD if you're anybody else. This is how Day One of the Tyrannical Rule of the Eyeglass Regime ended.
I did some research Tuesday night, and came to the determination that this strange distortion in my world was normal for a prescription such as mine. When you have astigmatism in one eye and normal vision in the other, it takes a while to adjust. Apparently, my brain has been compensating for the distortion for a long time, and now that my glasses are refracting the light correctly before it hits my eye, my brain no longer has to do this. But since it still is, everything appears distorted, like I'm in a funhouse. Until my brain retrains itself, bad times will continue.
Bad times like going to a party with free PBR and turning it down. Seriously. Wednesday, I had a reception at a studio to attend, and they had complimentary PBR. I was there for just over three hours, and during that time my friends consumed a lot of the tasty Blue Ribbon. I couldn't, because I didn't trust my eyes to drive at night -- and I didn't need a couple of beers to make things more difficult.
"I don't know how you're doing it," Dick said to me. "I couldn't turn down free PBR, no matter the circumstances."
Willpower, my friends. Its a wonderful thing. Day Two of the Tyrannical Eyeglass Regime ended with me going home thirsty. In a related story, I chugged 48 ounces of cold water straight from my Brita Water Pitcher when I got home. Like Quaker Oatmeal circa 1988, it was the right thing to do and the tasty way to do it. Wilford Brimley. Shut up. You bet.
Thursday night, I was at the Joselyn Museum for a lecture, and my ticket (which I received complimentary from a good friend of mine, who shall remain anonymous at their request) included one free drink. This time, I could not say no. Also, this was Day Three of the Tyrannical Eyeglass Regime, and I was adjusting to life in a tyrannical society.
I cashed in my token for a Bud Light, which I promptly drank in under two minutes. Not because I wanted to, mind you; the security guard told me I couldn't bring my beer into the theater, so I had to drink it quickly.
Friday night, Day Four of the Tyrannical Eyeglass Regime. I got home from work frustrated at the ham-fisted rule of the tyrannical government that had overthrown the tranquil freedom that The Kingdom Of The Eyes had enjoyed for 29 years. I considered a hostile coup, and removed my glasses from my face only to discover that the glasses had brainwashed my eyes into believing they no longer could see without them.
Everything was fuzzy. Apparently the Tyrannical Eyeglass Regime is a proponent of socialism, because I was now totally dependant on them to see.
So I surrendered, put them back on, and headed out to the Pizza Shoppe. Eyeglasses can take away all of my natural eyesight abilities. It cannot touch my PBR, it cannot touch my pizza, and it cannot touch my after dinner mints. Those three things are going to carry on forever. I thank you and God bless you all. You bet.
Tomorrow: the epic 900th Post in the History of Polyfro.com sees Day Four of the Tyrannical Eyeglass Regime continue with a House Party. Laugh as Max Univers says "fhqwhgads" to the cutest girl at the party, and sees it (predictably) blow up in his face! Cheer as Max wins a meatball eating contest against a guy who sits next to a guy who won a Grammy Award! Pity as Max declines an invite to do a keg stand!