It has recently occurred to me that one cannot fight fate, and perhaps, instead of waging an insidious campaign of feigned accidents and careless destruction, I ought to just declare open war. On sunglasses.
I�ve already assassinated two pairs this year alone, which, with the year itself being only in its 76th day, must be some kind of personal record. You�ll recall that I knelt all over my sunglasses while packing to return to California at the end of my booze-sodden Holiday at home with the parents. (And I won�t pretend there wasn�t a little alcohol involved in that particular incident -- I�d gone out to the bar with Pussy Galore that night for a farewell sloshing, and the two of us really whooped it up.) Well, I managed to make those last well nigh another month before I once again squashed them like a rising rebellion.
They weren�t completely fucked after the kneeling, and even though they never sat quite right again, I felt as though they made me look a little roguish and picaresque. Or maybe just "abstract" and "too poor to afford another pair". Either way, they were serviceable up to the day that I had them in the pocket of my coat and sat on them, taking them fairly quickly from handicapped to incapacitated in one move. I was very upset about it; not because I was particularly attached to that pair of sunglasses (which I�d bought only to replace the pair that I lost in the airport [which I�d only bought to replace the pair that snapped while I was putting them on]), but because it�s extremely inconvenient. And I�m broke, y�all! I can�t afford to keep buying sunglasses!
But buy I do, because I can�t really afford to be without. I mean, literally. I�ve tried in the past and discovered that all the bright light and squinting give me a really bad headache. And so last month I went and bought another pair for $12.50, and don�t give me that look like I get what I pay for, and I should expect a cheap-ass pair of sunglasses to break, because�well, because I hate it when people look at me like that. Anyway, I really liked them, and they wouldn�t have broken if I hadn�t, you know, put them in the pocket of my coat again.
Okay, just hear me out: I didn�t sit on this pair. I just kind of�leaned against them and snapped them in half. The pockets on my coat are frickin� walleyed, you guys! They�re, like, all the way on the sides of the coat, rather than in the front where any sensible haberdasher would put them! So, when I leaned against the counter in the Data Entry room, there was a big old snap as my sunglasses split into two opposing factions (the Haves and Have Nots -- the Haves being blessed with both nose pads and the bridge, the Have Nots lacking both, as well as half the right lens).
So it was back to the old drawing board, or sunglass rack, as it were. My seasonal Sunglasses Replacement Fund having already been depleted, however, I was compelled to shop at an eyewear emporium I never thought I would sink so low as to patronize. But last Saturday I found the finest pair of $8 glasses that 7-11 had to offer, and made them my own.
And then yesterday, I took them out of my coat pocket to find that one of the nose pads had broken off. My coat, it would appear, is the Bermuda Triangle of sunglasses.
Fortunately, Spring is right around the corner, at which time my seasonal Sunglasses Replacement Fund will get replenished and I can afford to buy another fancy ($12.50) pair, which I will never put into my coat pocket ever. You have until the Vernal Equinox (Saturday) to place your bets on their longevity.
Someone Got Here By Searching For: my close encounters with the weird And: max headroom sunglasses I�m Watching: Futurama, another show unjustly cancelled. I�m Discussing This With: Yoanna, who has some very insightful things to say about it, telepathically, which only I can hear.