Everything seemed fine when I got back to work this morning. This being the first day back after a two-week vacation that felt like an eight-month vacation, my natural paranoia had seeped in just after Christmas. I knew I hadn't "tidied up" my projects as well as I could have prior to the vacation, and what's more, I knew I'd left my desk looking like a bomb hit it. There was no real reason to suspect it, but that didn't keep me from thinking that someone, somewhere was going to give me a stern talking to today. Didn't happen. Everything was just as I left it -- except for the eighteen Christmas presents from various people and facilities I've worked with, including champagne, flash drives and two gift certificates that have made me one DS game and a King Kong DVD 3-pk richer. Fuck yeah man.
And then it happened. "Dude, what's with your eye?"
That's what the girl I sit next to said, and that's what the girl I sit next to meant. Apparently, my poor eyes, victims of dirty contact lenses and the residual effects of a weeklong cold, had gone from their normal white to a shade closer to candy apple. Keep in mind, my eyes are always a little red. It's part of who I am, and I can't stop it. But this...this was no normal red. My eyes felt absolutely fine, but they looked like they were absolutely bleeding.
So began an hours-long adventure in trying to hide my eyes from the office. Look, they were really red. The kind of red that nobody could just "deal with." If I struck up a conversation with anyone, there was no way they'd be able to make it through without bringing up this newfound eye trauma. Then again, it wasn't so much them mentioning my bleeding eyes that concerned me -- I just didn't want anyone seeing 'em. I didn't and don't want to be known as the "guy with the freaky alien bleeding eyes." I don't want people calling other people over to look at the "guy with the freaky alien bleeding eyes."
And the more I write about my eyes, the more they're starting to hurt. Think I'll cash out early. Don't tell anyone I left.
2006 is gonna rock if this keeps up.
Posted by Matt on 01/03/2006. E-mail me!










Chestnuts roasted by 







*pat**pat* You go lie down. I’ll take care of things here.
::rubs hands together maniacally::