To Anyone Who Bought Glasses at Selima Optique This Afternoon Between 2:40 And 3:10:
You got ripped off. You were lied to.
Those blue-tinted sunglasses were not perfecto for your face, Señor Pelo Blanco Con Esposa Fea. You looked only slightly less pathetic than Jack Nicholson or Bono in their tinted atrocities. And you, Ms. Shopping Bags, were not look-at-me amazing in the untinted, clear plastic wraparound frames that looked suspiciously like the plastic that houses six-packs. Sure, we all know you bought them just to keep the wind out of your eyes (aha ha ha look around the store to see if anyone caught how clever you are) and not because you looked incredibly fabulous (the frames, again, so perfect for your face!), like the salesgirl said you did. Just like you propped those dead animal carcasses atop your head in a close approximation of a hat because you needed to keep your head warm.
Don’t you know, you cretins, that if you have $1,750 to waste on a pair of glasses, the person who’s selling them to you is going to tell you you look stunning in them, even if you really look like a cross between a retro soft-porn pimp and Elvis at his doughnut-bloated, white-jumpsuited absolute worst? That’s also why no one dared tell you, Ms. Let Me Seriously Regard Myself In The Mirror, that you are not Jackie O.
Why weren’t you as embarrassed for yourself as I was for you? Why couldn’t/didn’t you see what I saw? Are you really that myopic … or truly blind?