Saturday, January 10, 2009


Why the holy fuck would anyone EVER paint a room that was not a scabby, scaly mess? Why would you do it on a whim? For a new color? Freshen things up?

That is insane. I can't use the word fuck or fucking enough to describe the hell of painting. Because. it. never. ends.

Sure, it's going to look great. And be more solid and appealing, etc., fuckity-fuck.

Miles, people. Miles of sanding. Miles of taping. Acres of texturizing. A fucktacular quantity of plastic taped to the floor (while scuttling along in a crippling crab-crawl) that is brutally shredded every time you take a deep breath. Then, you tape the windows. (It's a small apartment. Only a freaking dozen or so double-hung windows.) Oddly enough, I have always loved tape but this experience has so put me off, I'm considering breaking up with all adhesive products.

Don't get me started on the priming. And the woodwork! Sweet screaming jesus what possessed us to leave the low maintenance caves? Why, why, why, why, why...

I hate painting. HATE it. I'll drywall. I'll build new windows, I'll tile, I'll bondo anything that moves but never make me paint again.

And when I tell you everything hurts, it's not a some cute little overstatement. There may be one vestigal second eyelid muscle that is not pulled, bruised or screaming. And, it turns out this time, there's a synergy to the pain. Yes, if you add up all the individual pains you have to square that number to explain the final angony.

And I am no crybaby! Fuck you. And fuck Home Depot for making me think this would be simple as a coloring book.

Going to bed now. Will wake up tomorrow metamorphosed into a kafka-esque bundle of sheared nerve endings unable to roll over off its back.


Menchuvian Candidate said...

But, uh, how's the color?

epiphenita said...

White. It's white! Not yellowed tan or dingy gray. White. Absence of color, tabla rasa. WHITE. Nothing. Let the renter move in colorful furniture.

Must have inadvertently hit a nerve there, Sister Menchuvia...

Anonymous said...

epiphenita said...

Anonymous, dear, the youtube gods returned this error:

The video you have requested is not available.

If you have recently uploaded this video, you may need to wait a few minutes for the video to process.

If I knew who you were, I'd just contact you directly and ask for the right url instead of embarrassing you here on blogworld for your youtubetardedness. But I don't. So here's a public request for correction, dear A.

fimbulwinter said...

Late to the party, non sequitur question apropos of nothing...have you seen the documentary Helvetica? I ask because I assume that if you had an alley (and I'm not saying you do) it seems like the sort of thing that would be up it.

epiphenita said...

fmblwntr (sorry for the vowel disembowel, i'm obviously exhausted...but not too exhausted, evidently, to resist a rhyme), i have not seen it but it is on my netflix list of rewards-for-renovation-completion. next week. when i've blown the last of the sawdust out of my nose.

btw, i do happen to have an alley. but putting it that way and referring to the things up my alley is tempting the metaphorical fates. like opening up pandora's box...assuming she actually had a box (and i'm not saying she did).