New Portholes

My grandfather called me today and we had our typical wordy conversation that went something like this: "Hello?" "Hello" "Hello?!" HELLO!" "HELLOOO?! HELLO?!" "GRANDDADDY?" "IS THIS MY GRANDSON? HELLO?" "HELLO!" "OK!" "WHAT?!" *click*

And with that out of the way I went to go get new glasses. I needed them because my old ones are on their last legs. And by last legs, I mean I expect that when I pick them up and put them on my face, they'll crumple into dust and I'll be forced to walk around with squinty eyes and hands held out at arms length while moaning "OOOO! My glasses!"
But the eyecenter I went to had lots of different frames with pictures of models modelling them and stuff. And that was ridiculous in itself. One of the models was wearing some Columbia frames while scaling a cliff face as if to say, "These glasses allow me to see which crevices and holds I should use to prevent my untimely death since I'm not wearing a safety harness," and another was wearing some ridiculous Dave Brubeck type hornrim glasses with a scarf tied around his neck and his collar popped which told me, "I know how to show a girl a good time. First we'd get manicures together, then get our hair styled at the spa, and have conversations over drinks with umbrellas in them."
I settled on some plain ol' frames that didn't have a crosspiece on them but looked like they'd withstand being dropped a couple dozen times and didn't need to be taped in the middle. And as the saleswoman explained to me, "You get a 20% discount since you're in the military. Normally it'd cost this amount, but you save X dollars."
"I thought as much," I sagely murmured, while the look on my face said, "Eyeglass lady sure talk pretty."
Hopefully when I get them on Monday they'll look better on me than my OCS glasses. Now those were a pair of eyeglasses!