In a crazy physics thingy, my eyeball got damaged. The fake one. The real one is ok.
Oh, sorry yeah I have a missing eyeball. (Car wreck, long story)
I can tell you the whole story of the broken fake eyeball, if you want. A physics conundrum is all I’ll say now. Could only happen to me.
An eye patch just doesn’t go with my (ahem!) fashion sense.
Well, I guess I could go with an emo, or goth look a few days. I’m definitely not doing the pirate look. My kerchiefs are in the laundry.
The thing is I gotta get a new one. They ain’t cheap folks. Custom made and fitted to the implant inside my eye socket (grossed out yet?) $6800.
The one I want is black with an 8 in a white circle(you know, the 8-ball) amazingly you can actually get a working Magic 8-ball, with custom fortunes. I’m not greedy tho’, those cost a cool $12k.
Someone told me 8-ball eye balls are sexy. Could this be true?
They also told me to get it crowd sourced. What do you think?
Would you kind Dopers donate for me to get an 8-ball to replace my baby blue?
Want the GoFundMe addy?
I’m not serious, I have other prosthetics and am not in need. There’s no GoFundMe. This was a dare. Told you I’d do it, Zo.
I aggravate the grandwrex with googly eyes all the time.
I tell them I can see them thru the googly eye straight to the prosthetic.
Well, they used to believe me.
I stick them everywhere. School lunches, toys, pillows, the dogs head. You name it, I’ve done it.
I talk myself into believing it makes them, at least think of me.
My sister likes to go grocery shopping late at night, and she puts sticky googly eyes on produce, and on any end-of-aisle displays that feature pictures of a person.
I’ll take this opportunity to introduce an example of fine writing from the Bulwer-Lytton Bad Writing Collection. I believe this is from the “romance” category:
“If I may beg your pardon, my dear lady, I happened to catch your eye from across the room and I was entranced by the beauty therein, the pure and unveiled light of honesty flashing bravely at me, the sweet coyness couched in the depths of your green iris like a dolphin in the sea, the smooth marble of your soul in my hand which drew me hither to you,” said the dark stranger, returning the glass orb to his hostess, who gratefully popped it back in place with a soft sucking sound.