This Week In F—k You: Contact Lenses

02.23.11 7 years ago 152 Comments

We’re in the dreaded NFL offseason. There’s still no real football for months. You’re hurt. You’re angry. You’re hateful. We understand. At KSK, hating things is what we do best, which is why we have the recurring This Week In F–k You series, to soothe your white hot anger. This week: Contact lenses.

Over 35 million Americans wear contact lenses on a daily basis. I happen to be one of these people. I wear contact lenses because wearing glasses make me feel like a fucking dork and because I’m too poor to afford LASIK, regardless of how cheap Tiger Woods says it is on the radio. I suffered with wearing glasses until sophomore year of college (I tried nondisposable contacts briefly a few years before that, but lacked the nerve to stick with it). No wonder I couldn’t make any goddamn friends. Glasses are horrible. There are people out there who wear glasses because they think glasses look fashionable. That is only true if you’re a smoking hot stripper dressed as a librarian. Otherwise, A LIE.

I had big round Polo frames on my glasses that were excellent at trapping lint and nose grease and mixing them together into a delightful green paste that had the corrosive properties of battery acid. The underside of the nosepad looked like an orphanage massacre. The frames got so old that one of the screws on the temples would occasionally pop out of the frames and land on the ground. Every try and find a screw the size of a bacteria on a rug? Unpleasant.

So I wear contacts. And the contact lens experience… Well, the good part is that I don’t need glasses. DREW IS AT MAXIMUM HANDSOMENESS AT ALL TIMES. But let’s go through some of the bad parts:

-Walking along in the middle of the day and having a dust particle fly into your eye, settle under your contact, and cause you blinding, crippling pain. This happens to me at least once a week. I’ll be minding my own business, and then BOOM! Instant fucking tears. And it never happens somewhere convenient, with a bottle of saline nearby. No, no. this shit happens in the motherfuckin’ CAR. The lens pops right out of my eye while I’m going 75mph. Do I stop to fix the issue? No, that’s for pussies. No, I multitask.

The contact never ejects cleanly. It always comes out folded over itself roughly eight times, so I have to unfold it somehow without tearing it and without getting any more horrible fecal matter from my unclean hands onto the lens. And it always pops out of my eye bone dry, in desperate need of moisture. Yes, I have spit on a contact and then stuck it in my eye. Bree Olson approves.

-The dreaded “eyelash I didn’t see swimming around in the contact case that sticks to the contact before insertion” move. I don’t know how one small hair can cause such searing agony, oh but it does. It’s like someone took a wet towel, twirled it up, and whipped you right on the fucking retina.

-I wear two-week disposable lenses. Do I ever wear one pair for just two weeks? FUCK AND NO, I DON’T. Are you kidding? Every day I go past the two-week mark is money saved. If there were a record for wearing one set of disposable lenses too long, I could surely break it. I’m just that cheap. And yes, I’m fully aware that this is why my contacts forcibly eject from my eyes at least once a week.

-Taking a nap/passing out drunk and forgetting to take the contacts out. Ever try taking them out right after you wake up? HORRIBLE IDEA. It’s like someone laminated your eyeball.

-My contact lens case. It is repulsive. I’m too lazy to rinse out the outside of it, which results in little crystallized saline boogers lining the outside. Mrs. Drew is horrified by this and demands I clean the case every day with soap and water. NO CAN DO MISSY. I have important things to do.

(When I was a kid, one guy I knew with contacts had a vertical case, and he could spin the contacts around in their little holding cell in the case. I loved those contact cases. They looked like the future.)

-One time, I took out my contacts after eating buffalo wings and not washing my hands. And while that part of it was incredibly painful, what was even worse was that the contacts soaked overnight in saline solution that had jusssst a touch of cayenne pepper swimming around in it. The next morning… FUCKING SAURON’S EYE ABLAZE.

-Traveling anywhere and forgetting any portion of your eyewear needs, be it contacts, or solution, or a case, or your glasses to wear if your eyes get fatigued. And I forget one element of this little ensemble on every trip. It’s a lock.

-Accidentally putting in a contact that is inside out. You can hold it up to the light and see the lip of it curl around the rim. But if you’re not careful and don’t look… FIAHHHHHH!!!

-Any dud pack of disposable lenses. One time I opened up a little blister pack containing a lens and… no lens. So angry.

-Any contact lens that sticks to the top of the contact case, dries out overnight, and is both useless and impossible to find the next morning.

-Dropping any contact in the bathroom. Does the contact hit the floor? No. No, never. No, it usually manages to, against the laws of physics, adhere to the underside of the inside edge of the sink. Will it be found anytime within the next 45 minutes? No, it will not.

On the plus side, I can totally touch my eyeball now for shits and giggles. Just the white part, though. The irises… that’s the eye’s G-spot. FUCK YOU, CONTACT LENS PAIN. I BET THEY GIVE FREE LASIK TO PRISONERS.

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