Even Allie Cannot Help The Lure of Coupons...

Hyperbole and a Half: The Trouble With Coupons

See now, she has wayyyy better drawings. Especially since I have no drawings. But even if I did, hers would be better.

I was so excited to see her new post today and it was about coupon usage. That good ole love/hate relationship is in the air my friends, because it clearly clouded BF's judgement yesterday, too.

And maybe mine... maybe. STOP STARING! I didn't say for sure!


How could you not love a girl with a blog header like hers? Pin It Now!

BF's Shameful Confession

BF shocked me today.

He dropped a bomb, one that I was not ready for.

*GASP*   *SHOCK*  *STUNNED SILENCE*

BF: I did something today that I haven't done in years.

Me: Watched something really perverse/inappropriate online?

BF: No. *looks at me like I am perverted* (I am, it's okay)

Me: What then?

BF: *Long pause* It was a lunch thing.

Me: You didn't eat at all because you were so busy? (In retrospect, should I have been worried he might have responded with something containing the words 'afternoon' and 'delight'?)

BF: *Shame* I ate at McDonald's.

My first thoght was *GASP*. My second thought was about the poor chickens that can't stand because of their under-developed legs and the awful global monsters that I learned about in The Corporation and Food Inc.

My third thought, which I verbalized, was "Did you at least use a coupon?" (we got some in the mail the other day, but it turns out a co-worker lured him to dine for $8.99).

Haha, see how straight my priorities are?

EDIT: This was accidentally cut out yesterday. You have to understand that BF avoids all medication, is a non-soda-drinking, can-stop-after-a-few-bites-of-Cool-Ranch-Doritos-and-won't-eat-the-whole-bag, never-craves-salty-snacks, could-take-or-leave-chocolate, has-never-drank-coffee-or-tea-in-his-lifetime, and would much rather make dinner than go out to eat at a restaurant. Fast food typically makes him sick and he only eats it while under duress (you know, while being held captive against his will), or when forced between business meetings while travelling. And even THEN it is never McDonald's. We've lived near one for 3 years and we've never eaten there. In the 6 years I have known him, he has never eaten there. 

BF: Yeah, a guy at work had one.

Me: How was it?

BF: It was a McChicken. There was nothing on it, except for mayonnaise and a few shards of lettuce. It had no flavour. And the fries used to be good, but they aren't any more.

Me: (Hearing any word starting with "Mc" coming out of his mouth just sounds so wrong).
       *Unsure of how to respond*
I think they had to stop using trans fats or something. And they used to use beef lard - maybe they don't any more. That would affect the taste. Wow.... and I thought I knew you.*

Evil. Worse than Wal-mart? Maybe?

Did I mention how I am not supposed to have dairy or caffeine? Have I also mentioned I have had McDonald's decaf coffee three times in two weeks? Have I also mentioned I shop at Wal-mart, and I hate myself a little more every time I walk through those doors? That I don't feel right making eye contact with the greeter, as it feels like admitting guilt and I would prefer to remain anonymous and feel better somehow? But then again, I never want to hurt the elderly greeter's feelings.

Ahhhh, blinded by coupons, savings and really good decaf. Damn you global masterminds!

* That sentence was a total and utter lie. I think he is more repulsed than I am. He's cute. I'd let him get away with just about anything. And since he doesn't read this blog, the secret is safe with me and my other two followers. lol. Pin It Now!

I *CENSORED* HATE PAINTING

Yeah, remember that last post I made, all jovial, excited about the likeness of Paul Rudd to Vampire Guy, and that enthusiasm I had pre-painting?

I wanted icky cracking to be gone. I just wanted pretty. How misguided.

Cover your kids' eyes.

I FUCKING HATE PAINTING. I SAID IT, I DON'T REGRET IT, I WON'T TAKE IT BACK. IT'S VULGAR, BUT IT IS TRUE. I hope the red and bold both help to bring out the rage I am feeling right now. And the fail.

What should have been a simple door painting adventure turned into one small mishap, then another, then spilled paint, then more disaster, then disaster topped with disaster, all rounded out with two unexpected gusts of wind, one hell of a mysteriously stripped screw, and paint. Paint EVERYWHERE.

I tried to start properly. BF and his mom always say to "use the right tools for the job".

I made sure I had a stir stick, the right brush, the paint tray, a step stool, a rag, a garbage bag cut open as a drop cloth, the paint can opener (I was really proud of myself for remembering that one), a drill, all our screwdrivers (because I am fairly hopeless with a drill). Even a radio to boom out my tunes while I blissfully painted away on my make-shift sawhorse.

Alas, I was doomed from the start and should have known better.

Yayyyy! Boom box to drown out the sounds of my cursing.

All that preparation and hopefulness has resulted in my sitting here naked, for fear of spreading more white paint on to ANY OTHER GODDAMN POTENTIAL surface from locations unknown on me. I used a black garbage bag. Do you think I could see the blobs of contrasting white paint strewn across it to save my soul? No. It's not like it's Where's bloody Waldo. Black and white. Not.that.hard people.

A gust of wind came along and flung my detailing brush out the door, while skipping it along the back concrete step. (Which happens to not be painted white, unfortunately).

Whoa, whoa, you say.... why did it blow it out the door if you were painting on your sawhorse thing? Ahhhh, yes, I tried to remove the door from it's oppressive hinges. I got all the way to the top panel. There were 12 screws. Eleven came out effortlessly, even with ME using the drill. But that twelfth bastard wasn't going anywhere. I am still not certain what type of bit I needed to get that damn screw out of there. When I started, I judged the previous painter for just painting over the entire hinge. I guffawed at their laziness inside my head. Now I understand.

That screw was stripped beyond all recognition. I tried everything. It would not move. I may have ruined a drill bit and/or screwdriver. I don't want to know.

If you can decipher the type of screw in there, you win 9,000 points. 9,000 very very angry points.

Okay, then, take the door off from the inside hinges.

Yeah, our shitty brown screen door decided that it wanted to be JUST enough in the way to make that all but impossible. So I decided to paint the door in place.

This was supposed to make it easy. Who cares about the odd paint drip in an empty garage? Stupid screw.

Knowing my lack of coordination, my clumsiness and my lack of painting ability, I should have stopped myself there and waited for BF's opinion on the issue. Maybe taken the screen door off first, then the exterior door. But no, I thought "I'm a big girl, I can do this. Just tarp the shit out of the floor and be careful."

Apparently my careful isn't good enough because I managed to get paint on:

• The tile floor. Six times. At least. Absolutely no exaggeration.
• The concrete back step. In three places.
• The concrete patio. Thank god that one washed away with the hose and a toothbrush and desperation and panic and a google search that started as "hwo to gt paint of vpmvter". When that failed to yield results in English I slowed myself down and re-typed correctly. (p.s. it is helpful to have a power washer and paint thinner when taking on painting tasks. I have neither).
• [SIDE NOTE: keeping the screen door open helps with fumes. On the other hand, wind is exceptional at sticking bugs, hair, and dirt on to your freshly painted surface. Fuck. Back spray from a hose will also do this.]
• The garbage bag tarp. In large quantities. In puddles. Because I somehow managed to TRIP on the paint tray.
• My feet
• My pants
• My hair
• My hands
• The screen door
• The paint can, paint can lid, in blobs
• The step stool
• Multiple glass surfaces
• The weighted down garbage bag tarp (after the tripping, even held down with a shoe) when another gust of wind flung it into the WET door. It stuck. It effed up the paint.

After washing my foot off for the third time. *sigh*

 SO DEFEATED. We're talking about less than 18 square feet of surface here.

I had high hopes. The sanding and repainting of the garage door frame as well as the front door were next. I was gonna wow BF with my get-up-an-go-ness, my initiative-taking, my doing an unpleasant job I hate so things would look nicely spruced up.

Can I blame it on the light? My poor vision? There is a mass of paint folded underneath that shoe.

I'm a little scared to go back to the door to look at the floor and what I have done.
I don't think I have a second coat in me. Pin It Now!