Wednesday, November 15, 2006

Behold the Birth of a Hero

I'm about to regale you with my recent exploits in shopping; I'm sure you're enthralled already.

But first! I wish to bring my horoscope for the day of Saturday, November 11th to your attention. Now, I must say, normally I am not a man who puts a great deal of stock into horoscopes and astrology. I consider these things mystical gobbledygook and folklore that have no basis in reality -- just like tarot readings, stock market figures, and reindeer. But this horoscope, why, this one definitely caught my eye.

There I was, reading the Winnipeg Sun that morning, because my job is terribly boring in the middle of the night and it does not cost me anything (save for a few brain cells) to read the Winnipeg Sun when it's delivered. I reached the horoscope section, figured what the hell, and took a gander; here's what I got.

Perhaps you, too, read your horoscope that day. Your horoscope that day, if you are born under a different sign than I, may have offered you sound if suspiciously vague advice for everyday situations -- "be in the right place at the right time for big dividends at work", or "avoid spending too much money today", or "wear red". Not for me! No, the uplifting nugget of food for thought handed down to me that day by the dread beast star gods was "EVERYBODY YOU HAVE EVER LOVED WILL ABANDON YOU".

So take note, fellow Arieses (Arii?): we are all doomed to be alone forever. Stupid stars!

Anyway, back to my original intended topic. Some folks, when paid their fair wage in one lump sum after two long weeks of working hard for their money, immediately go out and about on the town and partake in the finer things in life -- fine clothes, fine food, good times and good company. Exorbitant prices for an exorbitant lifestyle, for those who can afford and appreciate the importance of a high quality of life.

And then there are folks like me. I was paid my meager sum on Friday for the meager work I'd done the last couple of weeks, waited until Monday to deposit my cheque (and still the banks weren't open -- stupid banks), and then went out alone on a fifteen-dollar shopping spree at the nearby Salvation Army store.

Yeah, baby! God I'm glamourous.

I will freely admit to being a frugal sort; the reason I'm 'frugal' rather than 'cheap' is that cheap people actually have money. Not I! I am poor, and I am easily amused. Ergo I routinely go through flea markets, Value Villages, Salvation Army stores and what have you -- in the name of finding old and inexpensive items that are nonetheless big on entertainment value.

For example: if I had gone shopping in big-box brand name outlets, in urban sprawl beasts, in ugly-ass Portage Place or in so-called "high-class" retail establishments, would I have found a 1977 Pepsi-Cola Daffy Duck glass for sale?

Clearly I would not have.

Note Daffy throwing up the horns, there. Nobody rocks harder than Daffy Duck. Nobody.

Sevendust - Black [buy]
Killjoys - Rave and Drool [buy greatest hits; original album cannot be found online(!)]
Motorhead - In the Black [buy]

This awesome 1977 Daffy Duck glass cost me fifty-nine cents plus tax; for all I know it is a rare and valuable collectors' item, and collectors would be horrified to learn that I intend to drink tequila out of it. Sorry, collectors! That's just how I roll.

(Oh, and they also had a Tweety Bird glass from the same line -- but, honestly, fuck Tweety. Tweety has been around for fifty-nine years and has been funny maybe three times, tops, during that span; Tweety is to comedy what SARS was to tourism.)

In addition to that glass, I picked up a few CDs (notably the Goldeneye soundtrack and the old PC game King's Quest VI; not bad for $1.99 each) and a few neckties just in case I ever feel the need to attempt a professional veneer. One of my roommates broke up laughing when I pitched the idea to her that ties could make me look respectable; apparently, my best bet towards that goal is nothing short of a massive overhaul of modern society's expectations of what 'respectable' looks like.

But anyway! While I was at the store I looked through the t-shirt rack, on the grounds that you never know what the hell you're going to find in there, and -- sure enough! -- I had no idea what the hell I was going to find in there.

Dig this. For $3.99, in perfect condition, with no identifying markers or tags to tell me who the hell created it or why it exists or how it came to be sitting in a Salvation Army, I picked up the new centrepiece of my wardrobe:

Yeah, boy-ee! Never mind that my hair is dirty in that picture, or that the picture is out of focus; I'm a sexy beast in that thing! Damn!

And yes, if you're anything like me, you caught the awesome Greg Valentine vibe off this shirt the second you saw it.

(As much as I love my new t-shirt, which is a lot, I swear I would probably crap myself with glee if I ever found an "I BROKE WAHOO'S LEG" shirt.)

It is, of course, my usual modus operandi to want to post a relevant and interesting MP3 right here. You might swear that I can't possibly come up with any song that logically connects to this situation -- in which case, ha ha! Joke's on you, because:

Oingo Boingo - Wild Sex (In the Working Class) [buy]

Good times all around! Hooray for the barely-filtered retail equivalent of dumpster diving! I'm the Working Class Hero, bay-bee!

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