That time I almost blinded myself: The most epic staring contest of all time

Don’t you hate it when there’s something in your eye and it stings and itches and you can’t seem to get it out and your eyes begin to water?  That happened to me at work the other day and I was pretty much almost crying in my office.  I know you’re not supposed to rub your eyes, but sometimes I can’t help it because they get really itchy.  Damn allergies.  Also for a long while, my eyes would water every morning as I waited for the bus because the air and the weather were so cold that they had that effect, so it would look like I was just crying when really my eyes would just end up physically watering as a reaction to the cold.  Apparently this happened to my sister recently and some guy went up to her and asked if she was okay, because it looked like she was crying.

Anyway, this all made me think of the time when I went to the Bloggers in Sin City conference in Las Vegas a couple years ago.  It was less of a conference, and more of a get together where I got to do a lot of fun Vegas things and meet an awesome bunch of people who love social media as much as I do.  It was the second day of the conference, and we had our own private party welcome mixer at Serendipity 3, across from the Flamingo.  There were lots of appies and drinks.  And also games.  Because of course with a group of strangers, you’re going to have some sort of ice breaker type thing.  I remember we had to pair up and give our partners 8 second hugs.  I’m not a hugger, but the hugs were good.  The hugs are not what almost destroyed me.  What happened after the hugs was.

Serendipity 3

Serendipity 3

We had a staring contest.  I’m sure most of you have had staring contests at some point in your life.  Because it’s a stupid thing that we do because we can.  Mostly as children, but why not as adults?  But this wasn’t just your average staring contest.  It was literally the most intense staring contest, or possibly contest of any kind, that I’ve endured.  There were prizes at stake.  And good prizes too.  There were 68 of us, and with the exception of the organizers, we were all assigned a competitor to begin with.  Each group would have a stare off, and the winner of that pair would then move on to face another worthy opponent, and so on and so forth until one of us would emerge victorious.

Now, I’m not very good at a lot of things, competitively speaking.  I am terrible at sports.  And pretty terrible at video games too.  I can do decently at a few boardgames.  What sucks is that despite my lack of skill, I’m still a fairly competitive person.  I love winning.  Because who doesn’t?  Don’t we all want to be winners?  Since I have zero athletic ability, maybe this was my time to shine.  Staring?  I was good at that.  Hell, I stare all the time.  Sometimes I space out and don’t even realize I’m staring.  And blinking is so overrated.  I could totally do this, no problem.

stare1

I fared quite well against my first few opponents.  My eyes were open far longer than theirs.  Finally, something I was good at.  I kept on going, beating every competitor who dared to stare into my eyes, for I stared back into theirs even harder.  They were simply no match for my supreme staring ability.  And then, there was Larissa.

stare4

I didn’t really peg her for someone who was so competitive.  Nor did I peg her for someone who could or would make me cry.  But she was, and she did.  Maybe I had gotten a little too cocky by this point and had just instilled myself with a false sense of confidence?  Maybe I had strained my eyes a little at this point from all the previous stare offs?  Maybe Larissa was just a superhuman who doesn’t blink like a normal human being?    All these things would eventually lead to my downfall.

stare6

We stared at each other like no one has ever stared before, our eyes piercing into one another’s as if seeing deep into our souls.  Perhaps she enacted some sort of gaze mind control trick, I can’t be too sure.  Minutes passed by and neither of us showed signs of blinking.  We had our game faces on and would not give in without a fight, no matter how painful.  And it was, indeed, painful.  As the minutes added up, my eyes eventually began to sting.  They were not meant to remain open for this long without blinking.  But no pain, no gain, right?  I could push through this.

stare3

And then came the water works.  Tears began to stream down my face.  No, more like pour.  Rivers just pouring out of my eyes.  But still, I did not blink.  People watched in horror at this spectacle.  Larissa yelled at me to blink, partly because she wanted to win, and partly because I think she was genuinely concerned and slightly horrified that I was literally crying right in front of her.  I was a mess.  And so was my face.  I’m pretty sure I lost more tears that day than on any other day of my life.  At one point, I thought I saw Larissa blink but I was mistaken.  I’m pretty sure I couldn’t see clearly at that point anyhow.  But still I stared on, doing everything in my power to keep my eyes open, despite every fibre of my being telling me I needed to blink.  But as more time passed, I just couldn’t take it anymore, and I offered up a single blink.  It looked like I was crying because I lost, but really my tear ducts were just still messed up from my lack of blinking.  Larissa went on to the final round, beating out Kitty and winning the whole damn competition.  I can’t remember what it was exactly that she won.  I think it was a gift card and some cell phone stuff.  Like good tech stuff.  I tried to forget, since I was clearly envious.  The whole ordeal had been a lot harder for me than it had been for her, and yet she reaped the rewards.

stare7

After my defeat, I had to sit for a while.  I know, it wasn’t like it was physically draining activity in terms of strength, but I was still a bit out of it.  And I couldn’t see properly.  Like my vision was really blurred.  I pride myself on having perfect vision and I was worried I may have jeopardized this all for a silly contest.  I made my way to try and find the bathroom, and the staff clearly though I was drunk, because I was out of it and stumbling and my makeup was all messed up.  Little did they know that this was because I couldn’t see properly.  I did my best to wipe away the last of the tears and to salvage my makeup and to gain my vision back.  Luckily, I managed to do so.

I don’t know if it’s possible to permanently damage your vision from excessive eye strain or lack of blinking, but I was so paranoid afterwards, especially when time had passed and my vision was still blurred.  Thankfully, it all went back to normal eventually and I vowed never to jeopardize my eyes like that ever again.  But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t secretly dream of a rematch in which I vowed revenge took back the glory that should have been mine…

Interterminal Issues

<—–Previous Vegas Post

So I’ve decided to sporadically write my posts about Vegas whenever I feel like it, in between posts about various other things.  At this rate, I’ll still be writing them in the winter.  But whatever.  That works for me.  Bloggers in Sin City was just full of so much stuff that I feel like I need to write like ten posts about it at least.

When I arrived at the McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas in May, I was supposed to meet up with Jessica, a fellow blogger who I had never met, because our flights arrived ten minutes apart.  So it made sense that we could just meet up, and make our way to the Flamingo together.  Simple, right?  Or so we thought.

I picked up my luggage at baggage claim 26.  Jessica was at baggage claim 10.  This is where the confusion began, because wherever Jessica was, the numbers only went up to 16.  How was this possible?  I was clearly at baggage claim 26.  Had I entered some magical world like how Harry Potter goes to platform 1 and 3/4?  I didn’t recall having ran through any walls or anything, so that couldn’t be it.

photoAnd that’s when we realized that we were at different terminals.  Curse the Las Vegas airport for being so damn big.  So we brilliantly decided to take the interterminal shuttles to meet each other.  So we both went to the shuttles and got on them.  At the same time.  Going in opposite directions.  It was too late to turn back.  So I believe Jessica simply stayed on her shuttle and took a round trip to meet me back at terminal 1.  Or was it 3?  I don’t even know anymore.  And yes, this was all as confusing as it sounds, possibly more so.

We wandered a bit and eventually had to go ask someone where the hell the hotel shuttles were.  Upon finding them, we patiently waited until it came time to board.  And then patiently waited while it drove oh so very slowly around the strip, proceeding to drop off every other passenger but us.  Not only were we the last to get to our hotel, the driver even stopped to pick up people to take back to the airport before finally dropping us off at The Flamingo.  Actually, she dropped us off a block away from the Flamingo because of “construction” or whatever.  We hoped that this experience would not be indicative of the rest of our time in Vegas.  It was unfortunate that our shuttle ride took so long, but if I was going to have to spend a ridiculous amount of time getting from the airport to the hotel, I’m sure as hell glad that time spent was with Jessica because she made it awesome.

Next Vegas Post—–>

Roses are red…

The other day, I was looking through old junk in my room. It still looks like a bad episode of Hoarders in there. But at least I tried. I also found some really old journals. I haven’t kept a diary since high school. So naturally I began to read through some of them. There’s a lot of dumb shit in there, as I’m sure you can imagine. Was I really as stupid as those pages would indicate? Apparently so.

I also used to write poems. I thought of myself as somewhat of a poet. But I guess lost that at some point along the way. What a tragedy to the world. I could have been as epic as Keats or Wordsworth or Shelley or Browning. Or Shakespeare or Byron or Burns or Tennyson. And yes, I’m totally just naming poets whose names I remember from my English Literature 12 class. And you know what, some of them wrote random odes to things too. Robert Burns wrote “To a Louse“. I kind of think my odes to my umbrella and my phone are more meaningful that that.

But the poems that caught my eye in this old journal were the simple ones. I had a few pages where I had come up with my own versions of the “Roses are red” poem. Because why wouldn’t I? I think at some point everyone has come up with their own versions of this poem, whether they be good or bad. Side note, did no one ever realize that violets are actually violet, and not in fact blue? I mean it’s right there in the name of the flower. I’ve always had a problem with that. But anyway, I won’t share all of the versions that I came up with. They weren’t all that great. But I will share with you the one that I’ve now deemed as my favourite:

Roses are red.
Water is clear.
You’re still ugly.
I need some more beer.

Yeah. I should really get a job writing for Hallmark.

Elimination of the pennies

On February 4th, the Canadian mint will stop manufacturing pennies. Stores will still accept them as tender, but a new rounding system will be implemented. Think back to your basic elementary school math when you learned how to round to the nearest 5.  This only has an impact on cash transactions, so people like me who use their Visa for everything don’t really need to worry about it.

Last week, I received an email at work regarding this matter. The subject line said “Elimination of the pennies”. But when I read it, at first I thought it said “Elimination of the penis”. That would have been far more tragic. Although I’m curious to know what an email like that might have entailed.

pennies

Alternate titles for my previous blog post

Here is a list of 20 alternate titles that I could have used for my previous blog post,          The Surprise

Surprise!

The gift of a penis

And then I whipped it out

Public indecency

Mini penis cake pop

That special night

I know how to satisfy

Dick in a box

It was tasty

Thank you for the penis

The perfect gift

She liked my penis

True friendship

Mmm, chocolate

Viewer discretion is advised

Put it in your mouth

Suck my dick

Something special

Oh, you shouldn’t have

How to satisfy a woman

The surprise

I wanted to give her something special.  Something that I knew she would enjoy.  All I wanted was to make her happy.  I guess I kind of did it without warning.  I knew that she would love it but I also knew that she wasn’t expecting anything.  She thought we were just going out like normal and that nothing was going to happen.  But she thought wrong.

I sat there and waited for the right time to do it.  Was there a right time?  I didn’t know.  But I knew that tonight was the night.  We were close enough that this was something I could do without seeming inappropriate or scaring her off.  Some may have found it awkward.  But I knew that she was different.  She would appreciate what I had to offer.  And so I just whipped it out.  In public.  She was shocked at first but she liked it and in the end she was satisfied and thanked me for it.

So yeah, I’m talking about last night when I gave my friend a mini penis shaped cake pop that I got from the Erotic Cake booth at the Taboo Naughty But Nice Show in Vancouver.

cake pop

Nothing says friendship like a mini penis cake pop.

It’s over

I think it’s finally time.  I think I’ve finally had enough.  I thought we’d be together forever.  Or at least a little longer.  I guess I’ve known for a while now that things haven’t been working out between us.  They haven’t been the same as they used to.  But I feel like there was once a time where I was happy with you and didn’t want you to ever leave my side.  I still don’t want you to leave my side, but I know very soon that I may have to ask you to do so.  Because I need better.  I deserve better.

I don’t ask that much of you.  At least I don’t think I do.  Certainly no more than other people in similar situations do.  All around me, I see people who have it better than I do.  They look at you with judging eyes and wonder what I’m even doing with you.  They tell me that I can do a lot better.  And they even make suggestions, telling me that it’s time to leave you behind and move on.  But I haven’t listened.  I’ve told them I was content with what we have, and I’ve defended you when they’ve mocked you.  They just don’t understand.  I thought maybe they were jealous of my ability to cope with all that you’ve put me through.  But maybe they were just tired of seeing me suffer for so long.

You have put me through a lot.  Caused unnecessary stress and frustration in my life that could have otherwise been avoided had you just been willing to cooperate with me.  I don’t know why you began to refuse so many times.  Trying to get information out of you is just such a chore and you’re so unwilling to provide me with what I need.  You know I have needs and they are not being met.  With you, I am constantly left unsatisfied, more often than not.  And it’s a shame because I wish that we could make things work.

I’ve tried so hard to hold on to you and to what we have but I think the time to listen to my peers and get rid of you is approaching.  Not today.  Not tomorrow.  But soon.  I know that I can be needy sometimes, but you’re supposed to be there for me and you aren’t so I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do.  I need better.  You can’t keep up with me and my demands and so I’m going to have to find another.  I’m sorry if you think that I’m being unreasonable but you should have seen this coming.

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In other words, I’m seriously considering getting rid of my Blackberry and getting an iPhone.