Last summer I jumped off a boat in the middle of Sebago lake with my glasses on.
(That's what they say, anyways)
I swore that I had taken them off before the plunge.
I suspect that there was a vast conspiracy by those who wanted to drive the boat.
Either way, I had an old pair of glasses in the glove compartment and wore them for exactly a year, even though they were the wrong prescription.
Two days ago I said to myself, "Self? You're about to turn fifty years old and you have the vision of Mister Magoo. Go get your eyes checked."
So I did.
Randomly I made an appointment with an eye doctor.
The eye doctor's name was Dr. Siriboonsirsermsook, O.D.
I liked the name because reading it was actually sort of an eye test in itself.
I figured with a name like Siriboonsirsermsook it had to be good. I went for the eye test.
She turned out to be a really exotic looking woman too. Not too hard on the eyes, if ya know what I mean... I was expecting some smelly old guy for some reason.
She said I needed Tri-focals.
TRI-FOCALS!?!? Me?
I didn't even think I was in need of BI-focals, let alone TRI-focals, but if the exotic Doctor Siriboonsirsermsook said so, then who the hell was I to argue?
So I picked out the frames and an hour later they put them on my aging head.
When I tilted my head downward and looked out the top of the lenses I could see the pimple on the ass of an eagle high in the clouds.
If I looked through the center I could see the cleavage of Doctor Siriboonsirsermsook vividly.
She was obviously a very good doctor.
Looking through the bottoms of these amazing Tri-focals would finally allow me to tie trout flies that did not look like snots with wings.
I paid them the price of a ticket to see The Rolling Stones at Fenway Park, and I left the exotic optometrist with a smile.
Suddenly the ground was way tooo close!My depth perception was completely screwed up!
Driving home was a real challenge.
Everything was all blurry and uncomfortable and I had to concentrate and squint just to get home.
To take my mind off it, I studied the amazing patterns of Eagle's ass-pimples high above me.
I got home and promptly stubbed my toe on the steps. Someone had moved them closer than they used to be.
I tried to put the key in the door and missed so many times it looked lke I was fencing.
I changed my shirt because I had spilled some food on myself when I missed my mouth.
When I put my arm into the new shirt, I scared the shit out of myself by sticking my hand directly into the ceiling fan!
BRRDDDD DITTT DDDITTTT DDDDITT!!!"OUCH!" and I had to run my sore fingers under cold water for a while.
Now take into consideration that my right arm is already in a friggin' cast, now I've "La Machined" the first three fingers on my left hand, and I'm praying to God, "Please God! Not THIS hand too!" I was okay though, just a bruise on my index finger.
My wife comes home and I show her my new glasses. We decide to go out to dinner, because I'm afraid to cook. We drive down the street, by the bank.
She says, "Wait a minute, I want to go to that ATM machine.
I stop, put the car in reverse, BOOOOM! Right into a pole!
Scared the shit out of everyone.
I tried to explain that the pole seemed much farther away.
I couldn't help noticing a hawk high above us with a startling case of impetigo on his rectum.
There's a nice dent in my new van.
She starts singing the theme song to Mister Magoo, and my son sings along.
"ROAD HOG!" he says.
The next day I called Dr. Siriboonsirsermsook, O.D.
"This is Missa Magloo. I want to return the Alice In Wonderland glasses. Time for ziss one to come home."
They gave me a hard time, but I finally got some regular glasses, and everything is okay now.
In fact I'm looking out the window right now.
You should see the size of the zits on bunghole of this osprey.
I can see them. And I'm over fifty years old!
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