Things that deserve the stink-eye sunglasses:

I guess the sunglasses were the icing on the cake, er the urinal cake. Kinda. But not really because there was no urinal cake. Because it was the wrong bathroom for that. Because...nevermind. Here's what happened....

I blame the whole sad creepy thing on that ophthalmologist. He dilated my eyes, peered inside my pea-brain and basically said, "What are you doing here? Most of my patients are in their 80s...there's nothing wrong with your eyes." So I simultaneously apologized and thanked him (like any good Canadian would) then returned to the waiting area where I texted my wife: "dilated and waiting." Her oh-so-compassionate reply? "Happy birthing!"

Grrr.

She couldn't pick me up for a while and hence the mayhem began. Mistake #1: I forgot to bring my sunglasses but I decided to depart anyway. And by "depart" I mean this: picture a chubby kid too tall for his age in a blindfold looking for a pinata minus the broomstick. Now picture him at the street corner walk sign trying to cross a busy intersection in the downtown core of a city. And his eyes were watering. And pedestrians seemed to be giving him a wide berth. That was me. And that's how profoundly sun-blinded I was due to the dilation.

Anyway...eventually my wife picked me up, I found my sunglasses and we went to the mall blah blah blah bought shoes, had lunch, wanted to explain to all service staff I encountered that yes indeed I was aware that I was wearing sunglasses inside the building (necessary mistake #2) but felt too awkward blah blah....

Jump to the part that's clearly mistake #3: that would be when I semi-blindly waltzed into the ladies bathroom with my sunglasses on, wondered momentarily why there were so many stalls, shrugged, tried to enter a few stalls, found an empty one, and then began feeling odd while I listened to some poor confused woman in the next stall have a one-sided conversation on her cell-phone before I suddenly (and finally) had that feeling like someone had just thrown a bucket of cold water on me...Am I in the women's bathroom? Yup. I. am. There were no urinals! HOW THE HELL DO I GET OUT OF HERE? Then I heard a woman say to another woman, "are you in the line-up?" AND NOW THERE'S A LINE-UP? I WONDER IF ANY OF THESE WOMEN ARE CARRYING MACE? I AM GOING TO JAIL!

Clearly the only one in there with balls, I decided to use them before any more panic rose in my throat, so I pushed open the door, exited the stall, walked directly down the aisle and out the door as women parted in waves. That's when this happened...you know how sometimes you have a momentary out-of-body experience when you see yourself as others see you? Well I saw myself, my inside-wearing-sunglasses-self, my suddenly very-creepy-inside-wearing-sunglasses-self. I guess I didn't look as pervy as I imagined though because those women began laughing while I proceeded directly across the hall to the men's bathroom and began banging my head on the hand-dryer.

Believe it or not, there are two kickers to this story and I kid you not:

1. My wife entered that same bathroom just moments after I began hiding in the men's bathroom. I only know this because when she met me a few minutes later she mentioned all the women in the bathroom talking and texting about some guy who used the ladies' bathroom. I then confessed. My wife then proceeded to laugh and mock me for the next hour. Why no sympathy? Let's just admit it: I've done this before. I once showered in a woman's locker-room. Seriously. Please believe me--I am not a perv, just a dipstick.

2. The very same day, a blogger friend who tells a story way better than I do DID THE SAME THING (but opposite) and she has visuals! I highly recommend you visit her similar post (Chelle at Coffee & Zombie Movies) immediately. I'm now referring to her as my awesome socially-impaired little sister.