Smeagol is Free!
A hermitudinal view of...stuff...


Latest Acquisition

It's early in the morning here; just past 2:30 am, to be precise. It's a bit cold outside, and the drive home only cemented that belief for twenty butt-numbing, teeth-chattering minutes that wouldn't end quickly enough. It was like the cold kept shredding apart whatever layers of clothing I could cling to, leaving me utterly void of warmth.

Ok, maybe not. But my overdramatic prose makes a rather gripping intro to this post, does it not?

I took Scott to the airport today. I also picked him up from the airport today. He was supposed to be on a flight to Virginia when I got the call that his flight was full, and he wouldn't be going. Bummer. Therefore, it became an afternoon for Mr. President and Oddjob to hang out for a bit. What'd we do? We went shopping at Unique, a thrift store off of Preston Highway. There, I acquired my deal of the week: a corduroy jacket, camel in color. This thing is the HOTNESS. I had tried on another one first, which much to my dismay was tailored for a short and fat person. The sleeves were two inches too short, and the chest was three inches too big. I may be short, but I'm not built like a barrel. Anyway, the next one I tried on heaven :) I've got another party to attend today, and you just know I'll be sporting the new cords. The price? Nine bucks. Nice :) Anyway, after my little acquisition, Mr. President and I headed over toward the Highlands area, where one of the city's TJ Maxx's could be found.

A little note of explanation may be in order here. When I refer to Scott as "Mr. President," I do so for one reason: he is the President. The President, that is, of Boyce College's Student Council. That being the case, I think it was he and Biggz who were sitting around one day figuring out who would be on Scott's "Presidential Staff" were he to have one. I don't know who else was on there, but they said I would be Scott's "Oddjob," because I'd be the guy that nobody knew worked for him, but who did everything else nobody else could do. I take it all as quite humorous, but in many ways, I am his Oddjob. Nobody else fills the role that I do for him; of course, the same is true of him for me. On with the story...

At TJ Maxx, Scott picked up a couple of key items that will go well with this absolutely hot blue suit he picked up from Unique several days ago. Man...I tell you...that suit...not many things make me jealous, but that thing pushes the envelope for me ;) While in the store, I ended up rather randomly helping this woman who needed to pick out a belt for her significant other. That was a funny happening in and of itself. We were looking at ties, which were right next to the belts, and this woman who's looking at the belts asks if we could help her. We acknowledge our servitude, and she proceeds to ask a question with the qualification, "if a guy has a thirty-four inch waist..." Before she finishes the question, I cut in and say, "get a size thirty-six belt." When we were looking at the shirts about ten minutes later, she came over and said, "I need your help again!" Oh my...the whole experience was a head-shaker...I get asked to help people all the time when I'm at Express but I'm not on the clock, but this wasn't even my store! Crazy, I tell you, crazy!

After TJ Maxx, Mr. President and I hit McDonald's for some ice cream cones. Nice, very very nice. Oh, I also got a chance to explain to Scott some of the broader details of The Silmarillion. Glorious, I tell you! He'll be reading it soon, of that I'm sure. When he reads the lines, but Beren laughed, he'll smile and agree with me that yes, that is the greatest single line in all of Tolkien lore. Of course, what Beren says after that is a classic quote all its own, equal to Han Solo's infamous, "I know." (If you can't say "I know" of Han's "I know," then you don't know, and I'm not going to tell you.) Anyway, what Beren says is this: "For little price do Elven kings sell their daughters: for gems and things made of craft." To the uninitiated, that line holds absolutely no mystique. But, to those such as Cleve and myself, the Tolkien Geeks of the world smile when they think of the tale of Beren and Luthien. And those lines...oh Beren proved his love for Luthien, and he was willing to die for her. Indeed, he did die for her, and she for him. Tolkien's characters are like that; you never actually doubt that they will perform with honor, because their dignity and integrity shine through from the beginning. Wow...what a story :)

So what's the whole point of all this? There is none. There's no deep insight, no gripping conviction that should jump out of your screen and cling to you like that sucky-face thing in Aliens. It's just past 3:30 am now, and my brain isn't quite functioning on all cylinders. My butt may still be numb, but at least my teeth aren't chattering :)

posted by Bolo | 2:33 AM
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