Apparently my eyes can only handle three nights at work with contact lenses suctioned to them. Because every Wednesday I struggle. Everything feels OK at first, then my left eye (almost always the left one) starts howling in protest.
Last night I removed the left lens completely, and put it inside a water-filled Mountain Dew cap. It’s the hillbilly’s eye care accessory…
I have to wear hard lenses, you see, because one of my corneas is shaped like the end of a football — according to a specialist in WV. Who the hell knows? But I have to keep track of my contact lenses, like it’s 1978.
And every time I walked away from my desk last night I was afraid the cleaning crew would come sweeping through there, and toss my soda cap in the garbage. There was just a general sense of unease, if you know what I mean.
For most of the night I was wearing one lens, and it felt like the floor was slightly slanted. Like on the old Batman TV show. And when I woke up this morning my left eye was sealed shut under a thick layer of gloop. I had to practically pry the bitch open.
I won’t be wearing my contacts today. I think my eyes need a rest. When they start putting out gloop, it’s a sign of a problem, I think. Gloop is a message best not ignored. I think it says so in the Bible.
Why do dogs go round and round when they’re getting ready to serve up an order of yard biscuits?
Andy makes me crazy doing that. He paces back and forth across the yard, in his “preparing to shit” posture, finds a place and starts spinning circles. Sometimes he’ll go around twenty times, it seems. And occasionally he’ll pull out of it completely, go find another spot, and start the process all over again.
I don’t get it. One time, many years ago, I decided to find out what all the fuss was about. So, when it was time for a sit-down, I went into the bathroom and starting turning tight circles. Then I got dizzy, stumbled, and got myself wrapped-up in the shower curtain.
OK, that’s not true. It’s a complete fabrication, in fact, but could’ve easily happened. It’s the sort of “experiment” I’ve been known to conduct.
A few days ago, at work, I grabbed a fancy-ass candy cane out of a bowl on someone’s desk. It wasn’t a normal candy cane, like you might buy at K-Mart or wherever. It looked to be some sort of designer cane, manufactured by a snooty, elitist microcane company somewhere. Probably Vermont.
It was orange, and I’m a big fan of candies in the orange family. So, I snapped off a section and popped it into my mouth.
And the freaking thing was cinnamon! It was orange, yet tasted like cinnamon. Man, I don’t care for that. We’re self-governed, in a sense, by a set of unwritten rules. One of them: cinnamon candies are red.
It’s all breaking down!
What’s next? Caffeinated coffee served in a carafe with an orange top? Mustard in the red squeeze bottle?! We can’t have this. We can’t start allowing our agreed-upon principles to erode. It’ll be anarchy! Blood will flow in the streets!!
Man, I’m getting all worked-up about it. What’s your opinion of this? Am I reading too much into it? How would you react to an orange candy cane (already pushing it, right there), that tastes like cinnamon? Good god!
I’m going to submit my book tomorrow, then drink Maker’s Mark. After a few cocktails, I will then attempt to sing along with Tom Petty’s Greatest Hits — the entire album — in a Chinese accent. Yes, those are the top three items on my to-do list for the weekend.
I have a lot more stuff here, but it’s going to have to wait, I guess. I really need to get to the library (li-bary) and get to crackin’ on my so-called novel.
I’ll leave you today with a Quick Question: what’s your favorite Christmas/holiday candy? Is there anything specific that you only enjoy during this time of year?
Mine is Quality Street, which is now being stocked by Wegman’s, thank you very much. It’s generally hard to find in these parts, but pops up around the holidays every year. Mmmm… now that’s some good shit.
So, specific candies, or snacks of any sort… Store-bought stuff only, please. Do you have anything on this? Use the comments link below.
And I’ll see you guys next time, maybe a Sunday quickie. We’ll see how it goes.
Have a fantastic day, my friends.
I was wondering if they took the wheels out of the other boxes, is all I meant. I’m sure if your little girl is smiling and happy, it’ll be a great, great deal! I always feel like I spend too much then our little un says something like, “I love my life.” 🙂
I know what you meant, I was just kidding. For all I know they really did take all the wheels outta the other ones. I have buyer’s remorse a lot. I think it’s a disease or something.
A hundred and FIRST !!!!
where’s stuart? i gotta apologize for acting like a dick. even tho i didn’t mean to…but thats the way it happens…I’ll say something and someone will say ‘stop being a dick.’ and I’ll be like, ‘i was being a dick?’
Ian,
Yeah, parallel construction gets me into trouble from time to time. The most “American” things about John Paul Jones included his last name which, having predated the USA, was colonial North Carolinian, his rank of Captain in the Colonial (not U.S.) Navy, and his burial place.
Hell, and that’s just the bass player.
American culture lays claims to ownership of most things cool. The most common verbal expression of that lust is the phrase “…as American as apple pie”. Don’t know whether that has permeated Europe, but it’s just as true as saying JPJ was American, when his birthplace was in bonnie Scotland and most of his exploits occured before the USA existed.
The facts don’t stop residents of the United States of America from claiming both. Don’t know whether the story/legend of John Chapman has landed on your shores…
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johnny_Appleseed
So, as a minor student of Amerian history, I was kidding about both JPJs, but be aware that this forum is full of Torries and whilst they’ll concede you JPJ’s birthplace, they’ll claim his heart, mind, and ass.
jtb
.
.
Chuck:
Stop being a dick.
(OK, kidding; I’ve never seen you write anything but nice, gentlemanly posts but if we’re all jumping on you today, who am I to pass up a good dogpile?
jtb
now playing on the Sony Discman: Come Back to Us Barbara Lewis, Hare Krishna Beauregard by John Prine.
Ian,
While Edinburgh is a city and not a village, Hurlford, a mile or so east of Kilmarnock, IS a village. It is the birthplace of my Grandpa, Jack (John) Spence Culbert, after whom I am named, although his baptismal records are in Kilmarnock itself.
I just imagined Them Crooked plalying in an idyllic village like Ferness, or Errol, or Hurlford. The vision suited the romantic in me.
Way down inside as JPJ II and the boyz sing.
jtb
.
.
.
Chuck,
Stop being a dick.
Love, jtb
Chuck,
Don’t be a whistle dick.
Ok…if nobody else will….I will.
http://www.bachelorette.com/sixpacofpecw.html
Never underestimate the courage in a bottle of wine!
I’m…speechless.
=8^-)
AngryWhiteGuy – if you want to use one eye, but don’t want a contact, you’re in luck. The Monocle is making acomeback.
http://www.express.co.uk/ourcomments/view/147311/Monocles-are-back-in-fashion-gentlemen
Where’d everybody go?
Is this a Twilight Zone episode? Am I the last Surf Reporter left on earth? Will the WVSR homepage forever show a too-colorful tin of Quality Street candies, the date to always remain December 17, 2009? Hello? Hellooooooooo……..
Looks like I have this place to myself, then. I think I’ll get naked, raid the fridge for Yuenglings, sit my fat bare ass down in the living room and fire up the Big Fucking TV, and power-fart into Jeff’s cushions. Ahhh, yeah, this is livin’.
I’m here Swami and I’ve been wondering the same thing. Jeff, don’t tease us with a new bunker cam and then not give us an update. You are required to give me my free entertainment, Damnit! At least drop us a note so we’re not left here waiting and wonder…crying softly to ourselves in a curled up fetal position.
URRRRRPPPPP. ‘Scuse me.
Damn, how’d you get in here, SeaninSac? I gotta put my pants back on now. Don’t look at the package, please, not much to see anyway. Can I get you a Yuengling while I’m out here in the kitchen?
Good Afternoon Surf Reporters……
I’m here too Swami. Just looking for an update….and wher’s my damn box scores?!?!
I’ve been lurking, too. waiting, just waiting…
Swami and JCIII– I saw the door was off its hinges so decided to drop in for a beer or ten… I just got back from a work xmas party. Iron City, Yuengling and Straub were all consumed. This place is pretty dead; more internet provider issues, or just the holiday rush fucking things up?
Where all the white wimmen at?
Did I hear we’re drinking all Jeff’s lager for scrooging us out of an update? Pass me a cold one Swami and thanks for putting you’re pants back on.
Yessir, WB — there’s hell to pay in the form of stolen beer when a bunch of thirsty Surf Reporters get a lump o coal in their stockings.
I’m gonna go try out Jeff’s new toilet….
Hey WB – going back to your Walmart comment earlier. I was in one of their fine establishments this weekend and had an epiphany when an old lady rammed my cart head on because as she said, “Sweetie, you’re blocking the aisle.” WTF?!? I was not! She was just too lazy to step 4 feet to the right to go around a clothing display rack. Plenty of other pathways in the area not being used. She thought it was within her rights to shove my cart back onto my feet and out of her way. Chain-smoking, 1972-bouffant-having, one-pack-this-side-of-emphysema, trailer-park-living, old bitch! And don’t fucking call me “Sweetie”! How does a Walmart shopper develop such a sense of entitlement?
And then it hit me — this is how a fist fight gets started in the Walmarts.
Yea, the manners I see at Walmart are about one step away from a prison exercise yard.
JCIII..re: box scores. Scott Boras…2. (Cora and Pudge) Bay, Damon Holliday…0
Mariners…4, Cubs 0 and Plillies tied with Halliday while giving up Lee. Bradley vs Silva was an amazing deal. Mariners get bonus points for that one. Fuck Bradley’s attitude…he can play!
Hey…I’m up here on the third floor. Any one know how this Guitar Hero thing works?
Damon [comma] Holliday…shit! Do they make a wine version of O’Douls?
…damn thing won’t flush…
Does anyone know where I can buy a belt buckle that has mistle toe on it?
Jason, why don’t you just get a tattoo of mistletoe on your belly?
(Worked for Mr.Man, might work for you too.)
Great idea Blonde Goddess. But I already have a yellow caution sign that has that curvy arrow thing pointing down.
And yea an angel appeared unto them and said: “Sweetie, you’re blocking the aisle.” there are 3 wise men trying to get through here & they only have 3 items or less!
In the spirit of Christmas I just bought my kid “Little Drummer boy Hero” Rup a bum bum:)
getting a little worried…
I’m about ready to start checking the on line Wilkes-Barre/Scranton obits
He doesn’t call, doesn’t write
No update…I go to his house and the door is wide open, all the beer is gone, there is a huge turd in the toilet and the house smells like salami and rotten onions. WTF??? i am calling the police.
DTO – If you know how to play guitar yer screwed. If not you can probably figure it out. AND there is non-alc wine out there but it tastes like crap. The Welches non-alc bubbly ain’t too bad though.
Welchez…Welch’s…Wellcheezze
Welch’s…yea, that’s it.
Brynhildr and others who find Wal Mart one step away from the prison exercise yard-A couple of young men recently started a web site to document the stranger side of the Mart of Wal. It’s sometimes funny other times a little disturbing. If anything it will kill a little time til Jeff gets back.
http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/
Hopped on to see if a late update appeared…WTH? Gettin’ the shakes here, Jeff….where you be? It’s been pretty entertaining tho. Getting a little worried about Swami…drinking alone while nude & power-farting. Hey, Swami…do you do parties?
Hey Jason….here you go!….
http://www.mistlebuckle.com/
Just stopped in to read the update – people passed out all over the place (one naked), toilet overflowing, loud music coming from the 3rd floor, everything smelled like stale farts, no sign of Jeff, empty bottles everywhere and some guy standing on the front porch with a Mistletoe belt buckle (and nothing else) holding a sign saying “I Fuck Cheese” and screaming “Where all the white wimmen at?”
Called the police and organized a search party for Jeff.
Brynhildr – how did you respond to the “Chain-smoking, 1972-bouffant-having, one-pack-this-side-of-emphysema, trailer-park-living, old bitch”?
DTO – I wanna play Guitar Hero, too.
Somebody needs to throw a blanket over Jason.
Even the Romans would blush at this sight. I didn’t know humans were capable of such debauchery.
Whoever started using the grapefruit half on the coffee table as an ashtray – fuck you. I searched for some butts that were still smokable and found one that still had about an inch of cigarette left on it. I lit it up and I guess it had soaked up some of the grapfruit juice. Now I can barely breath, my throat burns, and I can’t see out of my left eye.
There’s half a can of green beans sitting atop the toilet tank with a spoon sticking out of it. Who did that?
There’s some guy and some girl laying face down in the back yard. He’s wearing business socks and that is all. She’s wearing an indian headdress and that is all.
I’m gettin the hell outta here.
Farty: Please remind your alter-ego that we’re still waitin’ for those penis pictures, please.
I think we may have taken it a little too far. So far not even the sightest hint of an update coming. Toney probably thew his computer away when she saw the mess Jeff’s invisible “friends” made of their house. Anybody see a pair of size 12 Redwings anywhere?
Might as well check out the bunker! What’s this?… Oh God… the bunker cam. The bunker cam pictures are REAL.
Alice — it probably doesn’t matter what I said. She wouldn’t have been able to hear me above the rustling of her windbreaker or the sound of her pink-double-knit-polyester-clad thighs rubbing together. I think I grunted a few times to stifle the pain in my smashed toes and said “Fuck you, Mrs. Barone.” It was disappointing that I couldn’t come up with something better, but in my defense, I was injured and wondering whether I would lose my big toenail over the incident, especially since I finally had a new one after dropping a heavy stock pot on my foot about a year ago.
Instead, I continued on my way and each time I found myself in her vicinity, I casually moved other carts, displays, large boxes, and random objects into her path. Sadly, my emotional development was arrested somewhere around the age of 13.
@Pagan….sorry to besmirch your good snooty Brit name and all. I am sure Quality St. was a damned fine chocie but once they sold out to Nestle…..I’m just sayin’.
And while I’m at it making trouble here, Jeff, perhaps your eyes are trying to tell you, with their high output of GOOP, that they don’t enjoy being encased in foreign plastic objects(contacts).
You never struck me as being one of those vain type folks so why the contacts anyway? Aren’t glasses good enough for ya? True, they won’t make your eyeballs feel like they are on fire and cause infections, etc. but they will get you beat up on many a playground.
sweetzles are the shit….. to you non PA folks they may be called “spiced wafers”. I dont even like confections but i could eat a whole sleeve of those things.
Brynhildr,
You are clever. You’re so very clever. But I get it. All of it.