Did you know...

... that you can develop a stress-induced allergy? Apparently.

For the last month or so, my left eye has been giving me the ol' one-two punch and making me wish I'd never put my contact in there... every single day. So, I finally sucked it up and went to the eye doctor on a whim yesterday. I thought he'd tell me I had a scratch on my eye, wear my glasses for a week, give me some drops and I'd be on my merry little way. Not. Even. Close.

I oh-so-innocently walk into his office and sit down. Make the small talk. Explain the situation. Smile and nod appropriately. Then, before I know it, he's coming after me with tweezers & pulling eyelashes OUT OF MY FACE. Multiple ones. From the corner of my eye. No, I don't like those there either but if I were able to put them out regularly, I WOULD HAVE ALREADY DONE THAT.

The fun didn't stop there. Next thing I know, he's got this bright red dye stuff and he's squirting it all over my eyeball. All while I wear a pristine white shirt, but that's beside the point... that red dye HURT. So as I'm basically blinded and my eye is stripped from all its eyelash-related dignity, he takes a q-tip and flips my eyelid inside out. INSIDE OUT. As in, parts that have never seen the outside world are just hanging out there for everybody and their dog to take a gander at.

At this point, I almost blacked out. Somewhere in there, he took his happy little q-tip and started poking around. Something about seeing 'fibers' or some bs. Personally, I think he enjoyed this WAY too much. Finally, he puts my eyelid back the way my momma intended it to be and said, "Well, there's nothing more than a few fibers and a little bit of extra mucus in there." I nearly lunged at that man's jugular. But before I could, he took this bottle of mystery liquid and 'flushed' my eye out... and it honest to God looked like I'd take a shower in there as I walked out.

So, one ridiculously tiny bottle & $45 hard earned dollars later, I now get to put one happy little drop of whatever the heck Alcon concocted into my eye every morning. All because (apparently) the stress of the wedding has caused some chemical change in my body that's making my left eye hate me.

Sigh.

Daily Specials for Dummies

Hello again, my faithful reader. (Yes, I'm fairly certain the singular is correct. If there's more than one of you out there, I'd be shocked!) I apologize for my lack of posting this week. Life has been hectic, to say the least. Alas, I have returned with a reoccurring beef I have with society today. Perhaps it's just small-town USA... but who knows. I can't help it if I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere during the week.

Now, it is important to understand that working in a small town means there are few (very few) lunch options if you plan on dining out. Of course, since I work with my parental units, it means we eat out every. single. day. It gets old, I assure you. You name it, I've probably eaten there. And I know the waiter's name. And his dog's name. And I know where he went to high school, who is younger brother is and what color his girlfriend's hair is. Anyway... there are a couple of 'home cooking' restaurants we tend to frequent at least once a week each. Cotton Patch & Susannah's, especially.

Alright, well these places have a 'Daily Special' board displayed proudly as you walk in, right? The waitstaff will alert you to said 'Daily Special' board as you're seated, yes? Okay. So will someone PLEASE explain to me how THIS is considered a 'fresh veggie'??

"HOMEMADE MAC & CHEESE"

Really? Last time I checked, NONE of the ingredients involved in this 'fresh veggie' came from the ground. Macaroni? Pasta. Refined pasta, at that. Definitely not a veg. Cheese? Uh huh, not a veggie. So why, exactly, do Cotton Patch & Susannah's proudly announce this 'fresh veggie' on their happy little specials boards ALL THE FREAKING TIME?! When this was first brought to my attention, I found it a bit humorous. But, six months later, it's not funny anymore. Give me some steamed broccoli or some carrots or something. A legit vegetable would be nice... if it's not too much to ask.

Story time.

Today started out on a happy (albeit rather irritating) note. As I got dressed for work, I looked in the mirror and realized that my jeans are officially too big. I look like a clown in training. These things barely touch me. They're sagging down on my hip bones just enough that with one good tug... well, let's just hope I have some pretty undergarments on to prevent a peepshow fail.

Alright, so fast forward to lunch time. My mom decides lunch should be at the local Chinese buffet (what we affectionately call, "Chop Chop" - not sure why we call it that other than we get to do some sweet arm chopping motions when we say it). So, Chop Chop it is. Figure friendly? Eh, not so much... however, a buffet *can* be maneuvered. I was on a mission to not wreck my day. I couldn't help but take notice of the folks around me, though...

In one corner, we have a morbidly obese couple talking about how proud they are of their food choices at the buffet: zucchini (yes, fried), veggie spring rolls (yes, fried) and string beans (yes, battered and fried). Alright. Where do I begin... let's just say, it honestly pained me to see them basically killing themselves while thinking they're being good.

In another corner, we have a table full of overweight construction guys who would rather sit back and stare at anything in a skirt. Thankfully, I wasn't in a skirt. I was wearing my clown pants, remember? All I heard them say was something along the lines of, "If I put on any more weight, my wife says she'll either put me on a diet or leave me. I'm going to miss her." Yeah. That's special.

Alas, I managed to eat my steamed broccoli and brown rice (ok... and one veg spring roll...) and get out of there causing minimal damage. But I can't help but think about that obese couple and how they just don't get it. They have the ability to help themselves... but they can't seem to get out of the rut of hurting each other. Sigh.

Oh... and the 'kick in the head' moment for today: After returning to work, I discovered that my clown pants lost a button. Yeah. How do you pop off a button when the pants are too big? I have no idea... I guess I'm just that good.