Anybody remember About a Boy with Hugh Grant (ick) and the kid with Spock eyebrows?
Kid on the left, Hugh Grant (ick) on the right.
Me and mah boo just watched Warm Bodies and let me tell YOU, that Spock-eyebrowed little ballad-crooner grew up to be damn good looking — even through layers and layers of zombie makeup, which is actually “in” right now. I think we have Twilight to thank for instilling in society-members-of-childbearing-age a love for the palest, gauntest, deadest looking mates available.
Spoiler Alert re: The End of the Human Race: In the year 2050, after decades of media telling us that the sickliest looking dude/dudette will rock our wildest sex dreams, the human race bucked off the shackles of natural selection, failed to procreate, passed on disease, and everyone died. Sorry.
But Nicholas Hoult is still a babe.
I’ll let him eat my brains.
Ok, I know that was a lot of preamble, so:
SPEAKING OF ZOMBIES, I once had a zombie eye.
I woke up one day and put my contacts in and my eyes were all like, “HELL NO.” I didn’t think much of it since they often speak disrespectfully to me when they see foreign objects coming at them around 3 a.m. before I go to work at A SECRETLY-NAMED BUT VERY FAMOUS COFFEE SHOP*. (*Name has been changed to protect the wealthy)
I popped those puppies right out, put on my glasses, and went to work.
A little background here: I had glasses by second grade. Thick ones. They were big and pink and thick. If your reading glasses that you using right now are pantyliners, my glasses in second grade were the maxipads your mom bought.
Now, they’re more like Depends Overnights. My prescription is -9.00, which means nothing to you unless you have a prescription yourself. Why am I divulging this? Because there’s something sick in me that’s proud of it.
When you’re looking at the world through two inches of concave fancy-glass, you might as well be high. I can’t tell the difference between a
grande and a venti ahem, medium and large. Lids? THEY ALL LOOK THE SAME. I have no depth perception either, so when I go to grab a pitcher of steamed milk, I usually punch it instead and it covers my hand in white lava.
As I spoke with customers on this particular day, they each handed me their money, looked up to thank me and backed quickly away. Each had a look of terror on his/her face. A look of panic. A look that say, “Hey, Zombie. Don’t eat my brains.”
Eventually I had to pee, and in the bathroom mirror, I saw that at the end of the long tunnel that is the space between my glasses and my eyeballs, I had a zombie eye. There was a red ring around my iris, and though it did bring out the green flecks in my eyes, it was still freaky as hell. It was also leaking, leaving crusty trails through my makeup. It looked like THIS:
Nah. No picture. Eyeballs freak me out. Google “iritis” at your own risk.
So I did my research, and I found out that many AS peeps end up getting iritis. I diagnosed myself, and I went to the eye doc in pursuit of a steroid eyedrop. He did not like me knowing things. No he didn’t.
He wrote me a prescription for an antibiotic and some other crap that didn’t work. Two weeks later, when the ring around my iris was enveloping my eyeball, I went back in and he said, “Ah, just as I suspected…iritis!”
To which I responded, “Bitch, HELL no.”
So he gave me the steroid drop that I had originally requested, and it cleared right up.
Hey, Clip Snark! Any luck on clip art of an eyeball all jacked up and weightlifting?
Months later, I started seeing the expression on the customers’ faces again, and I knew I was going Zombie again. I truly think Zombies are becoming a real fear for the average American. Happy ending, though; I still had steroid leftovers!