Columbian On-The-Nose Candy

I made arrangements to purchase the Columbia frames this morning. Glasses are expensive. Especially when you get the lenses and whatnot in there.

The eyeglasses lady recognized me as the guy that took pictures earlier in the week. As we completed our transaction, the Columbia's lay on a table, between us.

"I know these frames will look great on you, because you have delicate features," she said.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I didn't say. Delicate features? Is an Adam's apple that juts out 2 inches delicate? Is incredibly dense stubble delicate? Is a chin dimple delicate? Is it these soft brown eyes? Why do you have 6 earrings in one ear? What's that tattoo on your back? How old are you? How did you get this job? Are you turned on right now? Because I'm ready to rock this shit, lady. I am ready. When I come back here in a week, and we sit here again, and you lean over this table, and you look into these soft brown eyes as you perfect the frames' fit, we are going to have a bona fide moment. I am going to be turned on, and you... you are going to fucking freak out. Your knees will become weak, and you'll have to sit down, and then I'll be the one leaning in, my face hovering aside yours. The breathless anticipation will seem to go on forever, and you'll forget everything you knew about insurance reimbursement and UV lens coating and manufacturer's warranties. You'll see me in those Columbias, and you'll see a man that is marriage material. And then you'll mention something about your kid, the result of some fling with an aspiring singer-songwriter who sports a pair of Jhanes Barnes, and I'll lose interest, and you'll wonder if you can ever love again. You'll be horny the rest of the day, too.

I want to thank all of the people that took time to comment, email, and even call me to discuss my eyewear. It is comforting to know that you care enough to keep me looking presentable. A special thanks to all those that voice an opinion even though they're unlikely to ever see these glasses. (NOTE: This is not a reference to imminent suicide; I'm simply speaking geographically.)

Hey Glasses! Continued

First, let me say that I know this is terribly exciting, and a totally worthwhile use of your time, and not at all stupid or boring.

Now. Between the comments left on the blog and the notes emailed to me, BCBG whole is the front-runner, followed closely by Columbia. I am not certain which I will choose. But that's okay, because I'm also uncertain as to when the shop is open, and when I can go to buy these motherfuckers.

Corinne took a few wide shots of the leading candidates before we decided to zoom in. Here's a final look at the leading candidates, accompanied by my imagined life wearing each pair:

BCBG WHOLE

--"Hey brah!"

--"Hey."

--"Nice Vans."

--"Thanks. Skate or die, dude."

--"What kind of deck are you rockin'?"

--"Oh, no -- I actually don't skate. I just wear Vans. Running shoes make my feet hurt."

--"Ah, that's cool, brah. So what's the name of your band?"

--"Oh, yeah -- sorry again, but I'm not actually in a band. I can't even play an instrument."

--"Ah, that's cool, brah. So what level of art history do you teach?"

--"I don't teach. I mean, I get art and everything, but I'm actually not a grad student or a post-doc fellow or anything. Sorry."

--"Mah. Buh. Wha. But. You are headed to the Bourgeois Pig, though, right?"

--"No. I'm actually on my way to the car wash."

--"You have a car?!"

COLUMBIA

--"Hi. My name is Dan."



--"Dan, your pick-up lines are as boring as your taste in eyewear. You will never see my awesome nude body."



--"My name is Dan."

Hey Glasses!

Right. So my eyes have been bothering me lately -- wanting to unfocus, twitching, hurting -- and it's been a real bringdown. There isn't a lot you can do when your eyes hurt. You can't read, you can't properly watch television, you can't spy on neighbors with binoculars. Bringdown. Enter the optometrist, who says I can get some reading glasses, reduce the strain, and feel better. He might be full of beans, but I can't know for sure until the old college try.

Today (thanks, Gerald!) I went to try on some frames. Corinne helped to photograph the experience, and the results are below. I'd appreciate your input. Which do you hate? Which do you not hate? Rank your preferences. Like when you vote for the Heisman. Or don't. Whatever. Help. Feel free to comment on what the glasses make me look like: an accountant, a bass player, an asshat, etc.

And please keep in mind that I'm not trying to look like The Guy Who's Wearing Really Hip Frames, I'm just trying to look like The Attractive Guy Who Happens To Be Wearing Glasses.

Also, and I'm speaking primarly to the gentlemen here, I'd like these frames to say, "Now there's a guy that I don't feel like beating to within an inch of his life."

TED BAKER

JHANE BARNES

CONVERSE (Yes, Converse.)

COLUMBIA

BCBG (whole)

BCBG (half)

Now get out there and VOTE! I'm going to tally this nonsense at the end of the week.

A Bag Of Flour

Jack Serpentine drove us home from The Oasis, the type of bar you'd expect to be the only thing open on Christmas night -- an ugly space with a tiled floor, a garage door substituted for part of its east wall.

We began to discuss Jack's high school classmate; Jack was vehemently opposed to intercourse with this woman, he began to list objects he'd rather have sex with. "A bag of flour," he began.

His idea snowballed until we were proposing sex with items blatantly less attractive than the woman herself. I tried to bring us back to reality.

"I think I would rather have sex with Woman X than with a bag of glass," I admitted.

"But what if her vagina was lined with razorblades?" Floyd asked.

"And cats' teeth?" Shawn chimed.

"And it spoke perfect Arabic?" Floyd added, before our laughter ended the discussion.

Jack pulled into the driveway and shut off his grandmother's Camry, and we retreated to our respective cars, another Christmas past, the reason for the season obvious.

And Then There Were None

You'll note the right sidebar is now without any BFF.

With the death of Circle V, Tornado Slide is now the only active blog among my friends and less-than-casual acquaintances.

I'd like to say that I will compensate by increasing my output, but I'm not certain that promise would be kept.

But you know my heart will go on. Expect more of the same from me.

2006 Recap - Printed Word

There isn't much to say about what I read in 2006. I could sum it up with one name: Scottie.

In '05, I borrow a co-worker's copy of Tender is the Night. I thought it was spectacular, and decided to explore more F. Scott Fitzgerald. I picked up some cheap copies of Diamond as Big as the Ritz & Other Stories and This Side of Paradise. When those were finished, I went back to the used bookstore and picked up a Scott/Zelda biography that I'd previously left on the shelf.

When I let Jeff know what I'd been reading, he unleashed one of my favorite sentences of 2006:

"That's officially a phase."

Interestingly, the newest issue of McSweeney's will feature short stories based upon story ideas found in FSF's Princeton-era notebooks. I would renew my subscription, but I'm fairly confident they'll revert back to their cute-but-ultimately-terrible ideas.

2006 Recap - Motion Pictures

Movies I saw in the theater, in reverse order of awesomeness:

Underworld: Evolution
Clerks 2
A Prairie Home Companion
V for Vendetta
An Inconvenient Truth
Beerfest
Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby
Stranger Than Fiction
Inside Man
Little Miss Sunshine
The Departed

I saw the trailer before Beerfest, and was bored to tears. The trailer went something like:

JACK NICHOLSON: (talking into phone) There's a rat.

MATT DAMON: (talking into phone) Let me get the rat. I can get the rat.

JACK NICHOLSON: (talking into phone) Well, you'd better get that rat, then.

LEONARDO DICAPRIO: DO YOU WANT HIM TO CHOP ME UP AND FEED ME TO THA POOOUR?!

MATT DAMON: (talking into phone) Trust me. I've got rats before. I will get this rat.

JACK NICHOLSON: (talking into phone) Good. Get the rat.

Boring, right? It was a poor indicator of the film's overall awesomeness.

And while some of these movies were stupid (Underworld) and disappointing, (Clerks II), I was pleased that none of them were "I wasted $8" terrible.

Movies I Netflixed, in reverse chronological order (*denotes Sunday Night Movie Night selection):

The Great New Wonderful
All the Real Girls
Swimming
Flirting with Disaster
Slither
Brick
Hoop Dreams
Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room
Diner*
Storytelling
LolliLove
Blackboard Jungle*
Team America: World Police
Explorers*
Junebug*
Fever Pitch*
Comedian
Monty Python's Life of Brian*
Gigantic: A Tale of Two Johns
The Deer Hunter*
Kids
Existenz*

Again, I feel like none of these were a big waste of time. Brick and Junebug were the most surprisingly awesome.

Before I resubscribed with Netflix, I did rent some DVDs from Liberty Hall. I can't remember all of them, but the most memorable rental was Oldboy. Oldboy is a South Korean movie with subtitles, and it's, uh. It's really something. Just rent it. But not for a date night.

In conclusion, this is too many goddamn movies to watch in one year, especially considering I watched Wimbledon and Richie Rich on TBS this weekend. What the fuck am I doing with my life? I mean, I've heard of Unbearable Lightness, but this is fucking ridiculous. But whatever. Beats reading.

(Next up: my 2006 recap of books)