You’re ready to turn in for the night. You take contact lens #1 out of your left eye and drop it into the appropriate side of the little contact lens container thing. So far so good. No problem whatsoever. But now it’s time to deal with the other eye.
Crap, this one doesn’t go so easy. The contact doesn’t want to come out. It feels like it’s been blow-torched in there, fused to your eyeball. There’s no apparent line of demarcation between where the contact lens ends and the eye begins.
With your dirty fingers you fiddle around in there, trying to catch a solid grip on that stubborn thing so you could peel it off and go to bed. No luck. And then you come to the horrific realization that you can’t grip the lens because it isn’t there anymore. It’s gone! Been gone for a while!
You quickly piece together what happened: at some point early on in your extraction mission your clumsy fingers must have somehow shifted the lens’ position on your eyeball just enough so that it slid back behind your eye.
Horrified, you realize that the lens is now floating somewhere on or around your brain, floating in the liquids of your head like Dennis Quaid’s miniature submarine in the sweet ‘80s film, Inner Space. It’s the ol’ contact-lens-lost-in-eye routine!
You feel powerless. You feel violated. You wonder: will it stay in there forever? Will it settle down somewhere it’s not supposed to be and cause you to start hallucinating and/or go insane? And, most importantly…
Is the contact lens stuck in there forever?
As always, practicallyserious.com has the information you require. Here are three effective ways to get that rogue contact lens out of your head.
3 ways to handle the ol’ contact-lens-lost-in-eye routine
1. Sneeze it Out
This one pretty much speaks for itself. Just sneeze the thing out of your nose! Do like they do in the cartoons: grab a big fluffy feather and tickle your nose with it until you start to sneeze uncontrollably. Nine out of ten times this will solve the problem. If the feather doesn’t get you sneezing quite violently enough, go ahead and develop a cat allergy and then grab the nearest American Longhair and rub it all over your face like it’s anti-aging cream. Keep doing this until you blast the contact lens right out of your nostril onto the coffee table next to the coffee mug you use all the time and never rinse out. Just try to remember, at least, to rinse the lens, preferably before you put it back in your eye.
This suggestion draws inspiration from the modern-day marvel of self-cleaning ovens. If you can get the inner temperature of your head hot enough, anything that’s not supposed to be there will eventually disintegrate, turn to ash. And no, I don’t mean stick your head in an oven. That would be stupid.
I’m talking about drinking a lot of coffee—three or four pots—and then trying your very very best to imagine a sequel to the nonsensical, rambling, clearly-improvised science fiction movie, Prometheus, that would somehow make the first one make sense and be cool.
If you focus all of your hypercaffeinated brainpower on this unsolvable brain paradox, your inner head-temperature will quickly start to heat up in the same way an overclocked CPU will overheat on a PC when you have too many programs running. If you can get your brain hot enough, the rogue contact lens will soon disappear in a quick puff of smoke.
3. Watch any Michael Bay Movie
Okay, so, you know how if you detonate a thermonuclear device in the upper atmosphere it’ll send a static electric charge that will short out anything with an electric circuit directly beneath it (if not, please refer to the James Bond movie, Goldeneye)? Well that’s kinda like what happens in your brain when you watch any movie directed by Michael Bay. It pretty much shorts out your entire head, cleans the slate, kinda like doing a factory reset on your mobile device.
In theory, such a major brain reset will remove anything in/on your brain that wasn’t there when you came off the assembly line. Yes, we’re talking about you, Stuck Contact Lens. You will disintegrate in a puff of smoke.