Somehow this myth got started that people who wear glasses are fucking geniuses. Well, I hate to break the news to ya, but it’s a load of crap.
I’ve worn glasses most of my life, and I barely made it through high school. Really. I had to go to junior college just to build up my grades. Then I transferred to an unimpressive local university to obtain my B.A.
And what did I major in? Journalism. Not because I wanted to be the next Woodward or Bernstein. I did it because it was a fucking easy major that didn’t require any math.
So please, don’t involve me in your intellectual conversations. I may look like I could have something interesting to add to the discussion. But I don’t. Actually, I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. Outside, I may be nodding and saying “uh huh.” But inside, I’m just thinking, “huh?”
I’ve never read Chaucer and I have no intention of starting now. Hell, I had a hard enough time getting through Anthony Burgess’s “A Clockwork Orange.” And that was after I saw the damn movie. I like books by Steve Martin and Chuck Palahniuk. Books that don’t make me reach for my pocket dictionary every two minutes. I don’t need any more reminders of how stupid I am.
So I’m sorry if my glasses are misleading. I don’t wear them to look smart. I wear them because I’m too damn afraid to put contacts in my eyes. I mean it. Having anything in my eye freaks me out: an eyelash, a spec of dust, a knitting needle. But is that really a bad reaction? I mean, should I really want to have something in my eye? Seems like a bad idea to me.
But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I should throw caution to the wind and get myself a nice pair of contacts. I hear they’re more comfortable now. And even if my eyes do get red and irritated, I could at least stop pretending I understand what the hell a stem cell is. Bleh.
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