Well, I think I just found my next pair of glasses.
I think I got glasses for my birthday last year, too. It’s that time of year!
Cazal 623, straight from Germany (lenses installed locally, so it was a 2-step process that took forever). I think I need to record an 80s-style rap that can play while I walk down the street wearing these.
The only problem with new glasses — and I don’t know if this happens to everyone or just me — is that they’re either too loose right away and slide down my nose (this happens eventually to almost all my glasses) or they’re too tight and I get a headache. I got these over-tightened to avoid the nose-slidey phenomenon and had a headache by the time I got home, which also made me realize that my other new glasses are probably why I’ve had a headache for the past week or so. Oh well, both pairs will loosen up eventually. Despite these minor complaints, I love wearing glasses. They’re pretty much my favorite fashion accessory, ever.
In other news, my birthday gift to you was going to be a playlist, but I haven’t quite finished it yet. Soon!
The Denver Public Library’s central branch is almost fortress-like, or at least it seems that way when you’re walking around it with a toddler, trying to figure out how to get in. You pass a lot of empty windows of rooms where they store those anti-pigeon spikes people put on buildings. It’s embarrassing that I haven’t been to the main library before now. We entered on the east side of the building and walked around, past the children’s section, past the bathrooms and elevators but no stairs, but couldn’t find the book sale, which I thought was in the basement, wherever that is. I am dudelike in my unwillingness to ask for directions, so I figured we’d go outside, walk around the building, and see what happens.
A dude sitting on a bench looks at me and says, “Excuse me,” and I’m all oh shit, because any time a dude talks to me outside it’s going to be one of two things, neither of which I want to deal with while I’m escorting a short-fused child to a place he doesn’t want to go (“I don’t like the book sale. The book sale doesn’t like me.”):
If you wanna go and get high wit me smoke an L in the back of the Benzie oh why must i feel this way hey must be the money.
Hey, you got any change?
Turns out he just wanted to know if story time was over. When I said I didn’t know, we were just looking for the book sale, he gave me exquisitely detailed and accurate directions and, thus, reassured me that not every stranger who talks to you on the street does it just because he wants something from you. Soren and I found our way into the basement (enter on the west side) and were met with the kind of chaos you find any time something awesome is on sale for super cheap. There were tables and tables with books and books, and boxes of books, and strollers piled high with hundreds of books already snapped up by the aggressive moms. Do you know about the aggressive moms? They’re the ones who hang out by the water feature at the Mordecai Children’s Garden and get to the book sale early and pile their boxes with shit you’ve heard of like Goodnight Moon. I am not an aggressive mom and never will be.
My plan was twofold: books for Soren and books about anything vaguely homesteading-esque. We hit up the children’s books first, where I grabbed things about dogs and gardens. A woman across from us handed me a somewhat gigantic book — A City Through Time — which I added to my pile. She also handed me a book of Disney stories, which I put back once she’d moved on and couldn’t see.
We checked out (as best we could, me being non-aggressive and all) cookbooks (I got a vegetable cookbook from 1976!), sports (A Few Seconds of Panic, which I’ve been wanting to read forever!), and then did a cursory glance over literature and religion (lots of Jesus). This was harder than it sounds because it was like the surface of the sun in there and I was wearing a faux leather jacket (that shit don’t breathe) and Soren was not having it. He complained. He whined. He sat on the ground and made grumpy faces. He splayed out on the floor like a turquoise-jacketed landmine. Is 3 a little old for this shit? I don’t know. It’s not that I find these displays embarrassing — it’s that they’re so tedious. Sometimes raising a child is boring. When Soren is in the throes of a temper tantrumy thing, I just want to poke him and be all, dude, it’s not that bad let’s go home and eat some beans or go to sleep or whatever. It doesn’t work, though. The only thing that works sometimes is when I make him hold my hand, look me in the eye, and take deep breaths. I don’t remember where or why I came up with that (I’m sure someone has already written a book on the subject, the same way someone has already invented Supreme Court Justice trading cards, which was my “brilliant” idea the other day), but it kind of helps. There have even been a few times where he’s been upset and then on his own starts taking deep breaths to calm down. That kind of blew my mind the first time he did it.
I finally made it to my favorite section, home and garden. I found some cool stuff and then the best thing ever happened. I found a book called Raising Chickens. I was all !!!!!! Chickens and I are meant to be. I said, “Soren! There’s a book about chickens!” and for a second I felt a little aggro-mom as I plucked it from the table. I guess we all have it in us. “Oh man,” this bespectacled, vaguely hippie-looking bearded guy next to us said, “I can’t believe you got the chickens book. I totally wanted that one!” We discussed the awesomeness of the chicken book for a while and a dude working the sale even said, “Yeah, that’s pretty much the Bible of chickens.” Of course everybody was kidding, which made the whole interaction even more awesome. It turns out that vaguely hippie dude is currently in the process of raising bunnies. I didn’t ask more about this, because what do you do when raising bunnies? Do you really keep them as pets forever? I don’t want to know. Watching Roger & Me when I was high and in college was one of the most traumatic experiences of my life.
Soon after this Soren looked at my pile of books and said, emphatically, “That’s ENOUGH mommy.” And I was all yeah, okay, because I’m done dealing with your grump ass and I have no idea how much this is going to cost. It turned out I got 12 books (a remarkably tiny haul, judging from everyone else we saw) for $15, which is not bad at all.
Apparently they add books every day, so I think I’m going back, maybe without Soren, to find more hippie and children’s books. Cheap, used books are the best.
In other news, my frames arrived today, fresh from Germany. I was pretty nervous about ordering them, because according to the internet, there has never been a woman to wear the Cazal 623 — it’s all Rick Ross and Sammy Davis, Jr. and 80s rappers and stuff. Remarkably, they have received the stamp of approval from Ben (“I think you can pull these off.”) (“Hey, when you don’t want those any more can I have them?”) and will be going to my glasses people for lenses. I can’t wait to wear them.
I am fortunate to have a generous amount of leftover flex spending money with which to buy glasses before 12/31. Where do you go next after you’ve been wearing the biggest glasses you can find for years?
I think I might finally be ready for the Cazal Vintage 623.
Those are some fucking magnificent glasses, a work of art for your face.
Or maybe I could get Terry Richardson glasses.
Plenty of people look hot in Terry Richardson glasses.
This is not to say I’d look hot in Terry Richardson glasses. My point is that if you’re hot, you’re hot, and if you’re not, you’re not, and either way if you’re wearing glasses you’re still hot or not, just in glasses, so it doesn’t make a difference and you might as well wear whatever the hell glasses you want to wear. Yeah! Glasses!
In this episode of What’s Russell Westbrook Wearing, I present his post-game press conference interview from June 14, after the Thunder lost to the Heat (bummer). Remarkably, the star of this outfit isn’t the glasses — it’s the pants.
While we’re talking about fashion, today Soren dressed Coltrane up as Soren. That was confusing for everyone. Then he was all hey, I can be a dog.
Yesterday while watching ESPN at the gym, I saw Rajon Rondo wearing some pimp-ass glasses. I was all !!! and then … because I realized I’d probably never see him wearing them again. (I wish I could get fantasy basketball points for this. Rajon Rondo is on my team and that’s probably the only good thing I can say about my fantasy basketball experience because I am, if this is even a thing, heavy bad, and people keep making trade proposals to me because I suspect they think I’m a drunk Labrador retriever because that’s how bad I am.)
This shit happens to me all the time. I’ll see some random athlete with awesome facial hair or fantastic glasses, and then I’ll google it and find a bunch of irrelevant shit like 2-year-old photos, stuff about said athlete dunking off the glass instead of wearing it, or people complaining about professional athletes wearing “fake” glasses. (How could you know glasses are fake? My glasses, as they say, are real, and they’re spectacular.)
Imagine my delight today when ESPN’s Chris Forsberg tweeted a picture of Rajon Rondo wearing his glasses and someone I follow retweeted it, which allowed me to view a picture of the glasses and find out that there’s an ESPN dude who is an “unabashed hipster glasses fan.” And now I know who Chris Forsberg is. xoxo. Check it. Awesome, right? What I always want to know in these situations is: What are they? (I’ve wondered this about Arian Foster, too, and I suppose I could just ask him because he does seem to respond to people on Twitter, but I’m kind of intimidated by Arian Foster’s awesomeness. Namaste and shit.) I’ve been doing some detective work but haven’t found them yet. I planned to at least post several options for you if you’re into this look, and why would you not be, but to tell you the truth it’s not going to happen tonight.
I had this subtle headache all afternoon and then as soon as I got to the gym, it graduated to mini-migraine status, a mini-migraine being the kind of headache where you feel like you’re being pummeled by bricks from the inside of your head specifically behind your eye, and the kind that gets worse rather than better after physical activity, but it isn’t so bad that you can’t function. So after each set I was all, “Oh hey let me pass out and/or cry now” and my head was all *poundpoundpound* but the good news is I feel better, albeit totally lazy, now. But please know I’m going to do my best to figure out what these glasses are and/or assemble some similar looks and present them to you ASAP.
Also I blame my headache on the rampant, constant, unyielding, and completely unreasonable 24/7 Tim Tebow coverage I, as an innocent resident of the city of Denver, have been tortured with over the past several days. (Also WTF was up with ESPN today? I had it on in the background while we were doing other things and I heard Tim Tebow doing his creepy flat-affect talking where he always sounds like he’s out of breath and never says anything of substance or that requires an ounce of original thought, and then he was, like, singing fucking hymns or some shit. I’m going to have to watch, like, angry goth nun clown peanut butter healthy living blogger porn to cleanse my brain after that.) I’ve never cheered for the Patriots. Well, I’d never cheered for them until the last time they played the Broncos, but damn if I’m not going to cheer for those bastards again this weekend. I hope the Broncos get Gronked.
Update: On March 11, 2012, Rajon Rondo wore sunglasses while warming up before the Celtics/Lakers game. He was poked in the eye when the Celtics played the Trail Blazers on Friday. Pimpin’ ain’t easy. Apparently the NBA denied Rondo’s request to wear the glasses during the game. More info. is available here.
I’ve also received reports that Tom Brady was seen at today’s game wearing hipster glasses. I’m looking for pictures.
I found a very old pair of brown glasses (I often have more than one pair of glasses but usually there’s a default brown pair in the mix somewhere) and was kind of WTF when I saw how tiny they are. It made me think it would be a good idea (wrong!) to chronicle the evolution of my brown glasses. Sorry about the bad photo booth pictures. Also I swear I’m not wearing too much blush it’s just that my cheeks get all red after I take a super-hot shower, dry my hair, and start drinking beer. I’m also representing for the NIU Huskies, holla! Anyway, on to the glasses:
Next time, I’ll just put a car windshield on my face. I know there’s a large segment of the population that hates gigantic hipster glasses but I don’t even care. Bigger is better!
Also FYI: The Northern Illinois University bar in Denver is Wyman’s. Go there tonight!!!
Leisure Society “Brighton” (not sponsored)
It’s my birthday! And I got my new glasses! The frame (frames?) is (are?) Oliver Peoples Francisca in dark tortoise. This is a sunglasses frame but I had it made as regular glasses (this frame/glasses/singular/plural thing is totally messing me up). Also yes I feel pretty dorky instagramming myself in the office where, by the way, I’m trying to make myself scarce because somebody allegedly sent me a Tim Tebow singing telegram (I’m pretty sure she’s just messing with me, but you never know).
P.S. I’ve already complained about this on Twitter and to every poor human I’ve encountered today, but this morning right before we left for school and work, my child knocked over our Xmas tree. I was not brave enough to investigate the damage, so there is a horrifying treeicide crime scene in our living room. I almost cried. I didn’t even get a good picture of the old guy yet this year.
I need to wear these glasses more often. Or would it be more accurate to refer to these glasses as wearing me? Either way, I love them but they also terrify me. Last year, I had them redone with Transitions lenses, so they can be both regular glasses and sunglasses, which is just about the silliest thing in the entire world but these really want to be sunglasses and I just didn’t have the heart to keep them from fulfilling their full potential even though I really want them to be regular glasses.
Sorry I’m light on content again. Soren got sick and then Ben got sick and now I’m getting sick. I’d like to spend the rest of this gloomy, rainy day on the couch snuggled under a hand-crocheted ripple blanket, which I do not own but fully intend to make one day as soon as I master sewing on my new sewing machine, which is next on the list (I did some sewing in high school so I’m reasonably confident this will be a successful endeavor), and then learn to crochet (I’ve been meaning to crochet a ripple blanket for years). So back to the couch, I was on it, under a blanket that doesn’t yet exist, watching the 900 hours of Rockies coverage that comes with having two games played on one day (and keeping in mind that tonight’s game will be the third in a row we’re supposed to attend but will miss thanks to everyone being in various stages of feeling like crap — I should have a system for giving away our tickets in these situations), and then going to bed early, where I actually fall asleep instead of reading Sports Illustrated, worrying about things, starting to finally drift off, and then being awakened by a raspy, boogery, crying baby who will only fall asleep again after having his diaper changed, ingesting baby Ibuprofen, and having his back rubbed for 57 years. Instead, I’m having a beer and writing a blog post that probably makes me sound like I’m delirious with fever, which I’m totally not, while Ben is doing something mysterious that has resulted in Soren being reasonably quiet even though he’s a bit grumpy right now. I think it involves food. (Haha he’s feeding him grapes like a tiny little Greek god or something.)
Speaking of food, the good news is that I’ve already made tonight’s dinner, less the vegetarian bacon, which I’ll add at the last minute so it doesn’t get soggy. It’s a seven-layer salad. (Soren is totally not going to eat that.) Do you need a recipe for that? You probably don’t, because they’re all over the internet, but I’ve noticed that most of the internet recipes for seven-layer salad have a tragic flaw (I’ll just say — brown sugar > white sugar in this instance). Also just say no to celery, if it’s called for, because celery is one of those things that is necessary only in very limited circumstances (such as stuffing) and tends to overpower the other flavors in a dish. So maybe I’ll give you my seven-layer salad recipe later, not that you need it. xoxo