Being Known as the Fun One…

Being known as the ‘fun one’ just might be the death of me.

Hang on.

All laughs and games until you can’t feel your crotch.

While I was visiting my Miami Mini Me and her fam over the Fourth of July, we took their boat out and about. What I thought was going to be an afternoon full of watching the kids with water toys, instead turned into yours truly being a full participant.

Coaxed by cute faces (and a little begging) and with the gracefulness of an elephant, I hoisted myself up onto the Aquaglide (which does anything but glide) while blind as a bat without my prescription sunglasses.

All smiles at first, not knowing what was to come...

All a blur of smiles from my point-of-view.

I plopped my ample derriere in between MMM and her brother, (my ex-Mini Boyfriend as he used to be in love with me but has grown up *sigh* and is into peeps his own age. How appropriate).

Prep

If I hold my hands up like this, will they act as a spoiler for the float?

As we started at the slowest rate possible, I was thinking this ride wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Hee hee. Faster!

That all you got Driver?

Settling in, thinking this was smooth sailing, I heard my MMM shout “FASTER! FASTER! FASTER!”

Wait, seirously? You want to go faster?

Wait, seriously? You want to go faster? SHUT UP!

Being that my ass is the size of the Grand Canyon, I was able to hunker down, keeping us on the water.

Business.

Me and my mad ass skills.

But then came the water to the face. More specifically, to the eyes not protected by my prescription sunnies.

EYE INFECTION ALERT!

EYE INFECTION ALERT!

As you can see, the beautiful lake water is the color of fluorescent moss and slightly stung when hitting my eyeballs. I couldn’t remove my arms that were strategically placed around each kid, therefore unable to shield my face (more importantly mouth) from the lake liquid.

Doesn't taste well, either.

The water tastes as good as it looks.

After being further blinded by the lake as it crept into my eyes and unable to take deep breaths due my soggy lungs, we started to lean.  Not wanting the Aquaglide to win, I hung on for dear life. That is, until I realized my ex-MB was underneath my rear end and I feared smothering him to death.

Descent into the green lake. DO you think the lochness lives in here?

Look closely for the tiny feet under my not-so-tiny hiney.

Clinging

Bracing myself to do a water cartwheel, while not knocking either kid in the noggin.

Inevitable capsize

Inevitable capsize.

The first thing I did after gulping down even more of the lake like it was a gigantic Skinny Pirate, I looked around for both kids, immediately realizing it didn’t matter because I can’t see a damn thing without my glasses on. Then I thankfully felt MMM grab my shoulder and she assured me that my ex-MB was near the boat being picked up.

Phew.

As I was wondering how I could possibly climb the ladder up to the boat due to the lack of feeling below my waist, MMM oh-so-sweetly asked me to ride with her again.

Oh sure, I'll stay on and do it again.

Oh sure, I’m fun! Let’s do it again. KILL ME NOW.

And away we went….

Fuuuuuuuuuuck.

Fuuuuuuuuuuck.

Thankfully most of the bruising has faded away from my backside. And more thankfully, my folks already have grandkids, as I’m not sure anything will ever be the same below my belly button.

But at least I’m known as the ‘fun one’.

CBXB

CBXB!

 

Slightly Drunk and Kinda Blind

One of my many blessing in life is my eyesight from hell.

Without aid from the wonders of optometry, I can’t operate a vehicle, I can’t see the alarm clock from my bed and I can’t find a contact lens when I’m drunk.

Hello Gorgeous

Hello Gorgeous.

Since gracing earth with my presence I’ve worn glasses and adapted to doing all kinds of activities in the lovely plastic specs that took up half of my facial circumference daily.

Dancing in tap class? No problemo.

Tapped my

Four-eyed Ginger Rogers at her finest.

Eating birthday cake in gigantic red goggles? Got it.

Cake

I wish I may, I wish I might have glasses that cure my poor eyesight.

Playing catcher for a girl’s softball team? Easy peasy.

Putting a catcher’s mask over my subtle, cherry red eyewear was about as much fun as you can imagine. Especially when I’d dramatically rip off my  mask (and also accidentally tear my glasses off in the process) in an attempt to catch a foul ball behind home base, which never happened as I couldn’t see shit without those Coke bottle sized lenses in front of my eyes.

Catch this.

I got it! I got it! I got it! Wait, I can’t see it….and now I have dirt in my eyes. Help.

When I was presented with the opportunity to swap my daily face accessory with contact lenses, I jumped at the chance. Surely, by getting contacts I would magically turn into a gorgeous mini version of Cindy Crawford, Christy Turlington or Kate Moss.

The transformation was amazing…

That's it!

From totally geek….

Yeah...didn't make that much difference.

…to totally geek.

While forcing plastic lenses (gas permeable, mind you) into my eyes as a kid didn’t turn me into a supermodel, they did help the moderate to high astigmatism that plagued my eyeballs.  Having contacts also taught me the importance of routine, as I had to clean the teeny tiny lenses morning and night which years later is as much a part of my daily activities as sipping a Skinny Pirate.

Speaking of routines and alcohol, I never ever go to sleep without taking my hard contacts out. So even when I’ve had five one cocktail too many, my body goes through the motions of removing my seeing aides.

One recent evening after happy hour, I popped my left lens out and instead of having it fall into my palm as usual, it suddenly disappeared.

Into thin air.

Scene of contact crime

Anybody see it?

Thing is, hard contacts are about half the size of your pinky nail. And mine are clear.
Upon realizing my mistake, I immediately became a statue, trying to not move a muscle while reaching for my trusty old spectacles.

And then I started to slowly gaze over the mounds of beauty products in an open drawer next to my contact case.

No luck.

Then I lightly combed the vanity with my fingers hoping to recover the hard piece of plastic.

No luck.

Ugh

Yeah, it takes this many pieces to put my puzzle together.

Then with a slight pit in my stomach, I looked toward the floor covered in khaki carpet.

No luck.

Little. Clear. Carpet

Anyone see it?

I was so desperate to recover my contact (I mean, the horror of having to wear my glasses to work consecutive days in a row!), I took to Twitter where my genius friend Oliver from The Winegetter suggested I turn off the light and use the flash on my phone to catch a glimpse of the pesky piece of plastic hiding from me.

No where - flash mob

Seriously. DO YOU SEE IT?

Slightly drunk, kinda blind and after crawling on my hands and knees for half of the evening, I threw in the towel on trying to locate the little bastard.

Four eyes.

Dazed, confused and contactless.

The next morning, I was getting ready to hop in the shower and went to grab my towel that hangs on the door directly behind the sink where my contact went missing.

Shower time.

A witness to the great contact caper.

And what to my wondering eyes did appear?

Grab'n'go.

The mother f’ing contact.

There was a miracle on that Monday morning, folks. Not only did I feel rested after an evening of drinking, but my thumb slightly brushed up against the piece of modern medicine that makes my eyes happy.

WTF? It's a Monday miracle!

You have to squint to see it. Seriously.

So how did my contact end up on a towel that was behind my head when I popped it out of my eye?

It will forever be a mystery to this slightly drunk and kinda blind gal.

I’m just happy I don’t currently have four eyes.

CBXB

CBXB!