Wednesday, January 7, 2009

lessons learned in purgatory (sounds more poncey than: "so i painted my first ceiling and realized i don't actually know what the hell i'm doing")

ceiling paint is thicker than the regular stuff, comparable to a gallon of whale's semen in semi-gloss; its also pretty stinky. and it dries funny (funny like michael jackson's face after the thriller years, not funny like jacko thinking we all believed his facial fairytale after he moonwalked with other corpsey looking characters).

ceiling paint dries patchy, and it leaves shadows. this activates the lady macbeth reflex, leading to obsessive rolling of additional tacky layers, spawning more patchy clusters.

and so it goes on.

i am a home improvement sisyphus, except instead of rolling a gargantuan rock up a hill, the "must not exceed 250lbs" podium is my purgatory, rolling shamu's special brand with lactic saturated arms.


mansuetude said...

so true.
love this line, "I am a home improvement sysyphus"

its so true, the constant doing... (i don't think you need the line about the rock at all, it speaks for itself)

whale's semen... ooh, good.

the shadows, they trick you too... hope you wore goggles... then you can go outside and pretend it snowed .

Disa said...

i think the paint fumes have gone to my head. i hate that bloody ceiling, i hate that bloody ceiling. i think purgatory would be trying to paint the ceiling of an aeroplane while it flew through a storm, having that dreadful woman rachel zoe's voice pumped through the PA system!

mansuetude said...

maybe that is how clouds are made--

(you just reminded me of the first time i heard a Brit say "bloodY" children--

i saw it in my head
and as a child, it feared me a month.