Seriously, that was a close one. A close one for style. A close one for ever hoping to score another date again.

Following an eye exam today, I broke down and went shopping for new specs. Determined NOT to do this again, I brought my bags of money into the shop and forced myself to stay until they accepted them. I made a big mistake last time by not ordering the anti-reflective coating; but come on, doesn’t that shit sound like snake oil to you? (It’s not. At all.)

But just as I was about to get the hell out of the place with my dignity intact, I pulled a boner. “How about those Transition lenses?” I heard myself squeak out. Seventy bucks later (what a deal!) I was on my way back home.

Let’s review. You’ve seen the commercials; upper-middle class men and women smiling as their eyes are suddenly obscured by darkening glass. It’s mysterious, it’s sexy and I thought “it’s for me.” But then the doubts set in.  I’m 26. Not 60. And I’m also a photographer, someone who might have a problem if their lenses stayed dark when ducking out of the blazing sun and into a shadowy building. Enough! I called and pleaded to change my order.

Like Indiana Jones, I’ve scoured far and wide for the ideal couch. I mean, sofa. Whatever, it’s a couch and you know it.

I underestimated the task; while visiting almost every single local furniture store, I realized one horrible truth. Shopping for furnishings is EXACTLY the same as shopping for a vehicle. These salespeople are cut from the same cloth.

Call off the dogs; I’ve found it. Simple, comfy and relatively affordable. As an added bonus, if I ever get a dog, he can poop on it without staining the upholstery. Chocolate!

To be delivered sometime next month. Pretend like I’m sitting on the floor in the meantime.

(update: next Wednesday. BE THERE.)

“There is something about a national convention that makes it as fascinating as a revival or a hanging,” H.L. Mencken wrote after surviving the 1924 Democratic National Convention, where delegates took 17 days and 193 ballots to select John W. Davis as their standard bearer.

“It is vulgar, it is ugly, it is stupid, it is tedious, it is hard upon both the higher cerebral centers and the gluteus maximus, and yet it is somehow charming. One sits through long sessions wishing all the delegates and alternates were dead and in hell – and then suddenly there comes a show so gaudy and hilarious, so melodramatic and obscene, so unimaginably exhilarating and preposterous that one lives a gorgeous year in an hour,” he wrote.

And so we’ve transitioned from the almost alien-like bodies of Olympians to fawning, mindless political television as the Democratic National Convention fills the airwaves and newspapers this week.

That Mencken excerpt really explains my absolute love for the man. Unfortunately, I’ve only read bits and pieces, tiny “quotables” that have been attributed to him at any and all occassions. So it’s time to buy a book on the man, which I plan to do this evening.

I happened to do a little historic coverage for the Journal Star last Saturday. You may have heard of a certain someone (Joe Biden) becoming betrothed to another someone (Barack Obama) and that it happened somewhere deep in the Midwest (Springfield, Illinois.) So I may have been there. Stay tuned.

Have you ever heard a more distressing sound? Have you?

I may be naive, but I never expected college debate to involve so much ass.

Imagine my surprise when I turned on my local NBC affiliate for some late news tonight and saw a video of Bill Shanahan mooning a full room at a debate tournament.

Now, I’ve written before about Shanahan, a debate teacher at my former college of Fort Hays State University, mainly to praise his eccentric mannerism and extreme passion. He’s crazy, absolutely atypical, with the long hair, black-rimmed glasses and bare feet to match. I liked the guy a lot. But the word “non-conformist” is his credo, and I remember many at the university thinking him a loon.

A story in the Hays Daily News today mentions his past trouble:

It isn’t the first time Shanahan has been thrust into the spotlight. He was arrested in June 2007 for disorderly conduct, resisting arrest, criminal trespass and battery for an altercation at a T-ball game in Hays.

He also was arrested in May 2006 for battery after an argument with his eye doctor.

Yes, his optician! Even something as innocuous as ocular health can be debated (the pros and cons of contact lenses?)

Still, sometimes you run up against an authority figure that just won’t take “crazy” for an answer. University president Ed Hammond fired Shanahan today, citing that he violated university policy. “Everyone has a right to First Amendment speech, freedom of speech, but these actions are unacceptable for someone representing our university,” Hammond said, according to the Hays Daily News.

In the meantime, Hammond has suspended the debate and forensic teams at FHSU. That’s a shame, for I do remember the program having a history of doing really well nationally. In fact, in 2002 the team reached the national championship. Hammond did commend Shanahan for his prior accomplishments at the school, and then a statement was read from Shanahan.

“I hope this incident does not detract from the incredible work done by Fort Hays State debate over the last decade, or my other contributions to FHSU, which are far greater than a 9-minute YouTube clip.” (click here for an abbreviated clip from ABC News)

(also, an editorial from the Wichita Eagle on the incident)

Throughout July, I managed to not once set food in a coffee establishment. This meant forgoing my neighborhood Starbucks, a place that I’ve embarrassingly made my own.

So when I walk in the door today, the Prodigal Son had returned home. Employees restrained themselves from hugging me, instead giving a steep discount to their new Vivanno drink. It tastes like multi-colored chalk cut with fruit juice and milk, which means I love it.

Random things stored in the notes section of my Blackberry…

“Suspect has a black jacket and a crazy unkempt fro.” – officer on police scanner Sunday evening

“Gas station attendee reading a chapter titled ‘Regulating Your Mind.'” I carefully buy gum and water.

“I truly believe that you can tell a man’s worth by how he reacts to a bad golf game.”

“It’s better to be beaten by grandpa than by dad.” – Micah, in regards to the rough, yet reassuring, flights in prop planes.

“McDonalds commercial with music from Os Mutantes? Really?”

“Sign atop railroad bridge near work: ‘Isn’t the sky beautiful?'”

“Washburn, Illinois business: Karaoke by Loud Larry”

“Hey sexy… hey sexy with the pillows!” – voice of young woman a few blocks away, shouting toward me as I unload a mountain of pillows from my car

There’s a moment in August when both old and young realize that summer truly is fleeting. It is not dependent on a return to school; no, it is an encroaching sadness that runs much deeper.

Peter and the Wolf – “Safe Travels”

As of Monday, Google added 30-some new cities to their Street View service. Peoria, along with my hometown of Wichita, were both added. Of course, local reaction ranged from “why is this news?” to “you’re invading my private privacy in public!” My reaction was a little more tepid: “now I have yet another way to waste valuable time in my underwear.”

Yes, my old residence and current vehicle. Perhaps you can see me snoozing mid-day in my room, sicko.

Since I tortured so many of you via emails and instant messages with this task, I figure it’s time to relive the whole nightmare all over again.

Take a sheet of paper and place it on your desk. Insert writing utensil into hand (properly, please) and crap out three sentences that describe your entire being. Begin… NOW.

Adam is a staff photographer from Wichita, Kan. He is a kind and gentle man, a hard worker who always gives 110 percent and then 10 percent more. He also reads and writes. Adam can be reached at…

Adam is a staff photographer, proficient reader and man of great height (over 6-feet, even!) After a brief 22-year stint in Wichita, Kan., he’s now living and working in a city that reminds him a little too much of home. Adam can be reached at…

Adam takes photographs, reads consummately and enjoys apartments with wood floors and lead paint. He can be reached at …

Alright, pencils down. Let’s see what you’ve accomplished. The first one is snarky and, frankly, a complete lie. “A real sonofabitch” is what should be crammed in there somewhere. Second one, just too wordy. Sure, you’ve given a few more relevant details, but we (the eds) really don’t care if you’re midget or Waldo.

So I guess we’re left with the third one. Simple, barely over one sentence, and still throws in a healthy dash of quirkiness for the ladies. 

I ended up being axed entirely from the bio section of the magazine. Fitting.

A Writer by Any Other Name from The Morning News. “Already, I’ve spent longer writing the bio than I did writing the article it is supposed to sit alongside. I must never admit this in public. Imagine the ridicule.”