Eye Ball

Some of you may remember that my father passed away in January. As I was his only child, I got to deal with all the fun stuff that one experiences when a loved one dies without the help of other relatives. While I am thankful that I didn't have to experience bickering over petty material goods, some tasks were more odious than others. The one thing that keeps me on my toes these days is the mail. My father's mail is forwarded to my house to ensure that I take care of any loose ends. Sometimes those ends are bills, sometimes they are solicitation for charitable organizations, and sometimes they are just plain fucked up.

For example, I know that my dad owned porno movies. He was a man and as far as I know he was single from 1978 until he died. That's a lot of jerking off, folks! I'm sure my imagination would have failed me at some point, too. However, to the people over at Adam & Eve- please stop sending my father catalogs and fliers and whatnot. It conjures images in my head that aren't the most pleasing. When Anne talks about catalogs and her friend Smith, that's fine with me. I've love to be there with her, giving a helping hand like any good blogger friend. However, my dad + porno catalogs = yuck.

The latest what the fuck? came from the Utah Lions Eye Bank. I donated my father's corneas to them and they occasionally send me pamphlets about donation and transplants and blah blah I'm over it. But this time, they went too far. I took a picture of the pertinent section for you to read and ponder a while.

WHAT THE FUCK?

I can see the merits of a small keychain with a "Thank you for the gift of sight" or some shit. But a fucking EYEBALL? And I can chose the color to match my dad's eyes? AND PUT IT ON MY FUCKING KEYCHAIN? WHAT THE FUCK? Really. Wait! They're hand-painted. That makes all the difference. Of course I want a hand-painted eyeball! Where's my checkbook? I'd gladly spend fifteen bucks on a hand-painted matched to my dead dad's eyes eyeball fucking keychain. Yessir. Sounds fabulous.