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An Ode to Restasis (girl)

  • August 9, 2011 9:56 am

I don’t have chronic dry eyes, but I wish I did. I am in good health, yet I wish eye was not. For if I had a medical need for RESTASIS® Ophthalmic Emulsion to help increase my eyes’ natural ability to produce tears, I would have a legitimate, medical reason to make an appointment to visit the hottest, non-celebrity, civilian on TV commercials today – The Restasis Girl (aka Dr. Alison Tendler).

Unfortunately for me, my eyeballs work just fine.  In fact, they’re incredibly functional and have no problem ejaculating buckets of tears at the slightest hint of emotion.  Remember, I am an actor so I possess the ability to cry on command.  And when I’m not crying, my eyes lube effortlessly.  Uckfay.  I am not a candidate for Restasis.  Far from.  But the mere thought of possibly having The Restasis Girl (aka Dr. Alison Tendler) cup my cheeks as she stares deep into my eyes is reason enough for me to throw 6 pounds of dry sand into my baby browns or sit in front of a fan with my eyelids taped wide open for a month.  Perhaps not drinking any liquids for a week could give me chronic dry eyes.  Yes, massive dehydration would work with medical certainty.  But then again, I would probably die of thirst and would most likely not be at my sexiest as a dehydrated corpse in Dr. Tendler’s office (and arms).

if all doctors looked like this, i would try and get sick as much as possible

an unexpected financial butt slap

  • March 1, 2010 5:54 am

My AC/Heater unit just croaked.  You know, that big, square, metal block that hides on the side of your house, thanklessly working to make sure you’re not too hot, not too cold, but just right?  Well, my aluminum friend just upped and died on me.  Fucker.  OK, it wasn’t his fault.  He’s been diligently working since 1989 (I bought my place in 2003).  21 years of flawless performance from a HVAC unit is impressive.  It’s the equivalent of a human being living to 210 years old and forced to run an olympic marathon naked every single day from birth.  He was a good machine that far outlived his time.  His performance was gold medal worthy.  BUT the bill for replacement felt far worse than Mao Asada’s loss to Yu-Na Kim.  Far worse than my most recent rejection by Michelle Kwan (btw, I’m still available for casual or formal love making session, Michelle).  It was an unexpected, financial butt slap of epic proportions…

$2,250? FML...

Total cost to replace?  $2,250.  And I had to pay cash.  Why?  Cause that’s how my HVAC dude rolls.  Not a check, not a cash card, but with cold, hard, green paper.  Paying my guy felt more like a Miami Vice drug deal than a home renovation project.  I felt domestically dangerous in a way that only Sonny Crockett could understand.  Now if I didn’t have a history with my HVAC dude, I’d think he was aiming to jack me of my bling, knock me out with ether, throw me in the back of his van, and sell me off to a rich cougar in the Hollywood Hills who would keep me locked up in her basement demanding a vigorous, geriatric pump at least twice a day (hmmm… kinda sounds like the life of my HVAC).

I Love You YU-NA KIM (b/c Michelle Kwan rejected me…)

  • February 25, 2010 12:24 pm

I loved you Michelle Kwan, I loved you hard.  Did not my sexy love poem scribed with the blood of my loins inspire you to become a Fan?  Twas my offerings of eternal love, worship, and a lower, middle-class life not enough?  Apparently not.  48 hours of silence can truly deafen a wanton heart.  My soul is cracked and my audacity to hope, guillotined.  All I have left now is my Ni Hao Kai Lan doll with aluminium foil skates (I made them myself) and an ego the size of an ant testicle.  I loved you.  I love you.  I will forever love you.  But I’m a big boy and I can take a hint…