In mid December I sat on my glasses.

Snapped the temples right off one of the hinges.

If you’ve ever been in my physical presence, the fact that I killed a pair of glasses won’t surprise you in the slightest. My glasses frequently sit on top of my head. Or next to my keyboard. I often tuck them in between the buttons of my shirt as if they were a pair of sunglasses and I were a casting call reject from Miami Vice. I flat out take my glasses off a lot. I also tend to leave them places and then forget where I left them. I’ve been known to wander around the studio at work, asking people, “Did I leave my glasses here?” This just gives me a chance to come visit you at your desk and steal a few Rolos from your candy dish or interrupt your conference call, because it seems something has come up RIGHT NOW, I can’t see and I need my glasses.

I have a bit of an odd relationship with my glasses, is what I’m saying.

And really, unlike all the other odd relationships in my life, this one isn’t my fault. I have strange prescription, owing to the fact that for most of my life I had strabismus and though I had some pretty freaking major (and uncomfortable) eye surgery to correct that problem (WARNING: DO NOT CLICK ON THAT LINK IF YOU ARE AT ALL SQUEAMISH ABOUT “EYE STUFF”; THAT LINK GOES TO A GALLERY OF PICTURES FROM MY ACTUAL STRABISMUS CORRECTION SURGERY. THE SURGEON SLICED MY EYE MUSCLE(S) OFF THE SURFACE OF MY EYEBALL(S) AND THEN SEWED IT (THEM) BACK ON IN A SLIGHTLY DIFFERENT SPOT(S); seriously, I just popped through that gallery and this and this made make me little “ouchie!” noises over here) and I no longer need to have über thick prism lenses in my glasses, I still have to wear glasses for certain activities like driving or staring at Keynote presentations from across the room.

(I also have terrible depth perception, which is just one of the many excuses I use to explain why I’m still single. Don’t ask why depth perception is integral to dating these days. Dating when you’re over 40 is complicated, OK?)

What was my point again?

Oh. Yeah, now I remember!

I finally got my eyes checked, got a new perscription and I’m getting my new frames from Warby Parker. They have this neat-o thing where you pick five frames, they send them to you, you show them off to all the imaginary people in your life, tell the Warby Parker peeps which ones you want and then they send you your “real” glasses with your prescription. Surprisingly, I don’t like their sunglasses much at all, but they have some nice frames, plus, they are very cheap, all things considered. $95 for frames plus lenses? Yeah, that’s a decent deal, IMHO. (No, no one is paying me to say anything here. Though Adam did do a video for the Warby Parker folks and Adam is my friend (AND MY SECRET, SPECIAL LOVER, THOUGH HE DOESN’T KNOW THAT PART, SO NO ONE TELL HIM, PLEASE; so it’s probably best I acknowledge that here.))

Anyway.

This afternoon/evening, you’re going to see way more of my face than you probably feel comfortable seeing at any given time, my dearest fictional friends from the Intarwebs who I suspect have excellent taste, given how devilishly attractive you all are; I’m going to show you the five frames I’ve chosen and you goobers can vote with your “hearts” which ones you think look best-est on my perhaps oddly shaped head.

And when you fiendishly irresistible imaginary people inevitably pick the frames that make me look like even more of a ginourmous dork than I normally do, I’ll simply pick the pair I like best, quit Tumblr and all social media for good and storm off in a huff.

Sounds like a helluva plan to me.

Again, anyway…

All of that to say, “I’m about to flood your Dashboard with my face. Sorry. Please don’t hate me.”

Also, really, don’t click on those links in that ridiculously long parentetical up there if you have any sort of deep seated eye issues. Shit be crazy, yo.