Goodwill. Rockledge. Late afternoon on a Sunday. Anything could happen. What actually happens is David finds a T-Pain speaker that he will give to a friend of ours. I find a book called: “Love and Marriage” by Bill Cosby. It’s a book of wonder, and is promptly picked off of the dusty shelves that house it. The cover is a very smirky young Bill from 1989 surrounded by many, many red roses. Ten years ago someone might’ve found it cute. In light of recent events David and I find it to be absolutely hysterical in that terrible way that we always find things hysterical. Bill Cosby goes home to David’s parent’s house along with the T-Pain speakers, two shirts, and two pairs of board shorts. We all know, however, that the Bill Cosby book is the true treasure.
Now, upon our arrival at the Woodford’s residence I am greeted by the ever wonderful and kind Mrs. Woodford who is busy giving directions to David on the cooking of egg noodles, and nodded at by the equally awesome Samuel Woodford who happens to be incredibly busy typing something on Facebook. The evening proceeds. David decides I need to play video games with him on the Xbox 360. I lose terribly at Halo 4 because I cannot figure out how to steer particularly well and keep running into walls and not being able to escape. I also commit suicide by falling off the platform map at least twice. David moves his character close and jumps around trying to see if I can shoot him, I do on occasion, but mostly I run into walls and he jumps. We have a system.
Immediately following this I give the remote to Samuel who is apparently a level 50 in Halo 4, which is apparently really good. I watch as he absolutely destroys David, then Mr. Woodford arrives, another great Woodford (Rachel Woodford is at college, but she is also a wonderful, beautiful, hysterical person. It must run in the family) walks in the door. The egg noodles are emptied into a colander that we discuss for a minute. Then dinner is served and we spend the entirety of dinner discussing the presidential race and physics, I sit and listen primarily, Samuel eats primarily, David and Mr. Woodford predict the future. We have a system.
Following dinner and a discussion of John Lennox, apparently a particularly good, Christian mathematician, David and I set off for his house where we finish out the evening watching Dune, a terribly awful and wonderful 1980s sci-fi take on a novel, at which point I am exhausted, and he is exhausted, and I go home. The end. Oh wait, nope, nope, not the end. Then I get locked out of my house and have to call everyone in the house, ring the doorbell, and knock on the door to be let in. The end.