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!

SNL - Paul Rudd - True Blood

Need I say more?

This totally has to happen!

I just watched the first two episodes and I keep waiting for Bill the vampire to break out in some comical monologue! LOL!

Maybe Justin Timberlake would be incorporated. Dance moves might be made. But hopefully the cast from Knocked Up wouldn't get involved, because that would just be TOO much.

Paul Rudd... rhymes with True Blood. Ooooh, and Stephen Moyer is so close to Stephenie Meyer, author of all the Twilight/Eclipse stuff.  Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrie!

I'd like to claim this post has been brought to you by the letter S, the number 3, and the paint fumes inhaled from exterior Behr Premium Plus Ultra Exterior Paint (but I haven't actually STARTED painting yet).

Let's see what kind of weird shit I come up with once I feel all sick and nasty from inhaling old sanded off paint, dog spit, dirt, and then new carginogen-chemical-filled paint in an only semi-arid garage.

SHOULD BE GOOD! Stay tuned my friends!

(This is what happens when BF leaves me on my own for too long....) Pin It Now!

Already One of THOSE Days

You know your day is not starting off on the right foot when your great dane hops on the bed (before your alarm clock goes off) and farts in your face. Intentionally. Well, I can only assume it was intentional.

Our special boy.

As my few followers know, I've been battling illness(es) since May of 2009, when I got food poisoning at a pizza place during mother's day dinner. Yes, nothing but the best for my mother. Somehow *I* chose the place, and Pizza Hut is apparently all my mom is worth. What a terrible daughter. Moving along....

(Don't worry, they aren't terminal... the illnesses I mean... or I suppose the restaurant, but I will never go back). Immediately after this meal, much gastrointestinal trauma ensued... for... well.... still.

This morning, once the alarm went off, I could just FEEL the awfulness in my body. Waking to extreme nausea is not fun (and it had seemed that the terrible-horrible worst of that had eased up on me in June-ish). And no, I am not pregnant.

For those of you who have never experienced the joy of nausea, imagine your worst hangover and how that made you feel. Now imagine feeling like that most mornings you wake up, coupled with no appetite, and that whole necessity of being able to function as an adult and that attending work thing.

Look at how lovingly she stares into that bowl. Perhaps she recently had a bathroom reno as well?

I am writing this post, trying to move as little as possible, waiting for my (expensive, super-duper strength) nausea medication to kick in.

One option. Not the particular medication I took today, though.

In my "trooper"-i-ness, I showered (managed to bang my head hard off of the new, very hard, ceramic tile in the shower), forced myself to have rice protein powder (then discovered the nearly straight, 10" trail of it down my once-clean white shirt), then decided an orange would help me absorb the iron I am so depleted of (and it ended up being all hard/crunchy and dried out on the inside.... please tell me I am not the only person this happens to).

Yellow airbrush is approximation of inedible, dry, gross part of orange. Remainder was barely edible.

Days like this make me fear more for my sanity. (I mean, c'mon, we all know it's teetering regularly).

Days like this make me fear for my job security. There are only so many emails and phone calls in to work that essentially say "Hi, yes, yes it is me again. I am feeling like that World Cup Goalie from England after missing that save, whilst being mocked by the world while feeling like I am going to barf up RICE PROTEIN POWDER while still recovering from the hurtful, fart-filled subliminal messages from my dog, while I take my medications and hope for the best. Flawed? Why, yes, I am thank you. Hope not to be too late. Will be there soon."

Some days I wish I could be like Paul Coffey in the Green Mile and just touch someone's hand so that they can feel what I feel and think what I think. Obviously only for a few seconds, wouldn't want to permanently eff them up or anything, but just to give them some understanding (and perhaps some credibility for myself).

Let's hope the day gets better from here. I am going to work now. I hope the nausea goes away. :-( Pin It Now!