When I saw that the lighter had arrived today, I wasn't all that excited, honestly. I mean....it's a lighter. A freakin' dimestore Bic lighter. I figured, with my luck, it would look like all Bic lighters, right? With nary a sign that Rob ever came near it.
When I took the lighter out of the baggie that it was all rolled up in, I was...I don't even know what I was. Happily surprised is a bit of an understatement, though I didn't have a full-on freak-out over a little piece of plastic. BUT, when I saw the condition of the lighter, I was pretty damned well excited.
(However, is it too much to ask for Premiere Props to spell Robert Freakin' PattiNson correctly???) FAIL!
This lighter is destroyed. It is completely empty---I can barely get a spark out of it.
The blue plastic is completely dull and scratched all over, like it has been thrown around on furniture, pulled in and out of pockets, and generally man-handled until it was out of lighter fluid.
The Bic logo is half-scratched/rubbed off.
The bottom of the lighter has big gashes in the plastic, like it was smacked on the edge of a coffee table or countertop or bar or whatever repeatedly; or chewed on by human teeth.
It honestly has little even-spaced indentations around the bottom, like teeth marks, except they're too close together to be tooth marks unless Rob has the bottom teeth of a toddler. LOL
I mean, tell me people....WHAT happened to the bottom of this thing??? ----->
Roblivious suggested that maybe it got caught in his zipper. I can't even entertain such a thought or I will be arrested for Lewd Acts Commited With a Lighter.
Perhaps he got bored and drop-kicked it around Central Park to entertain himself. Or ran over it with his bike. Or whacked it repeatedly on an iron fence somewhere in frustration over the endless parade of fangurls shrieking at him during the entire RM filming process.
What really happened, I'll never know. All I do know is that this lighter has been abused to the high heavens. And I am quite ecstatic about it, I must say! I hold it in my hand and just go...wow. Wow. (That's zombie-speak for "God help me, I need a life sooo bad.") Oh, and did I mention that the thing feels sort of rough and grimy? Like it lived in grungy unwashed boy's clothes...and was groped by sweaty, dirty boy hands...like...constantly.) *ded*