It’s a My Chemical Romance kind of day. This song just kills me dead.
You know what else kills me dead?
Working with Henry.
Working with Henry on home improvement.
We’re in the process of painting our kitchen. Mostly just the cabinets and drawers. I wanted orange and green (we have a red countertop so I had to carefully consider complementary colors, which is hard when you don’t really give a shit about the color wheel) but Henry got all bitchy about this selection in the middle of Home Depot so I ended up swapping the green with a yellow and just so you know, yellow is pretty much my least favorite color, right next to puce. I fucking hate Home Depot and I fucking hate Henry and I fucking hate painting. THIS WAS THE WORST IDEA EVER. (And mama ain’t just talking about painting the kitchen. Oh my god.)
(If you’ve ever been in our kitchen, you know it needs a hell of a lot more than sunny paint hues to change it from broke-backed womens shelter to Martha Stewart’s culinary-sex nook.)
Yesterday, we did the “priming” thing and by priming I mean that Henry did most of it and then let me help for less than one minute (no exaggeration) before screaming at me to go sit down and then Chooch bumped me into the door frame, which was the only thing that I had attempted to paint so I got primer all over my stupid black sweatpants and I cried about that for a little while because now how am I going to look to the dead bodies when I’m jogging next to their graves wearing STAINED PANTS.
Why does painting have to be so obnoxious? Surely if all those asshole homeowners on Trading Spaces can do it, I should be able to accomplish more than a few strokes. I mean, my arms are pretty strong from all the far-reaching handjobs I’ve given to boys hanging above me on monkey bars, but just thinking about handling a paint roller makes my biceps atrophy.
I wanted this to be done yesterday. I always forget about that “priming” step, and then we got sidetracked with making popsicles, which I guess will be tomorrow’s post if I come out of the other side of this home improvement episode alive.
(What the fuck—Henry is all nonchalantly talking about “the second coat” and I’m all, “What is this “second coat” you speak of, because it sounds more painful than anal?”)