Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Fat Eyebrows

I think I've finally figured out why I never got asked to the high school prom. I have fat eyebrows. Not the eyebrow hair - Brooke Shields has fat eyebrow hair and used it to rake in a gazillion dollars. No, I have your run-of-the-mill fat eyebrows (see "A" in the following illustration), and the only thing it's done for me is give me a perpetual glowering look, which is great when you're a parent but not so much when you're trying to lure an eighteen-year-old boy. I'm sure all the guys who were in high school with me thought I was suffering from permanent PMS.

Let me tell you, there aren't any exercises you can do to lose fat in your eyebrows. I tried doing eyebrow pushups (Angry! Surprised! Angry! Surprised! Angry! Surprised!) but that just led The Hubster to ask, "When did you get Tourette's Syndrome?"

Anyway. I had to have minor surgery on my eyelid this past week. Not the fat eyebrow part, but the VERY THIN layer of skin that covers my actual eye ball (see "B" in above illustration). And I was okay with the idea until we actually got to the part where the doctor said, "Lay back and keep your eye closed. I'm going to inject some numbing medication into your eyelid." 

Now, because the fat in my eyebrows slows down the transfer of information in my head, this is what was going on in my brain.
"Wait a minute ... Inject ... numbing medication .....very thin skin ....  GAWWWWWW!!! That HURTS!!!"
And then,
"What if this guy accidently pokes that needle through my eyelid into my eyeball? Then my eyeball would be NUMB! And I couldn't move it! I'd look like Marty Feldman!"

"That would put a serious crimp in my plans to become a supermodel... Well, that plus the fact that I'm not the same shape and weight of a No. 2 pencil..."

Of course, because of my brain delay, by the time I got to the Marty Feldman part of my internal narrative, the doctor had finished my procedure, seen two other patients, performed lifesaving neurosurgery on an injured dog in the parking lot, and gone to lunch.

Well, as it turns out, the 1-minute surgery went off with no complications. So now I have a swollen eyelid, which, combined with my fat eyebrows, makes everyone else think I'm giving them the Hairy Eyeball.

Which isn't all bad. I might actually be up for a modeling job in Vulture Owner's Weekly.

Thursday, July 3, 2008

You've been warned.

Airlines are going bankrupt. Housing foreclosures are at an all-time high. The Big Three automakers are seeing a downward spiral in sales. Angelina Jolie's quest for world domination is about to get 33% more powerful.

But buddyroe, you ain't seen trouble yet. Here's the scenario that should frighten you more than a nuclear bomb in a postal worker's basement.

Imagine a 50-year-old woman on her way to work. Global warming is making her hot flashes worse. She's been reduced to wearing those uglier-than-homemade-sin Crocs because her feet hurt. And they're generic StuffMart crocs, because she can't afford the real things since she just put $65 worth of fuel in her car. And now she can't get her morning jolt of caffeine because her neighborhood Starbucks closed?!

You're about to witness road rage taken to a whole new level.