When A Spaz Paints
Sometimes I get a bad idea which I think is a
good idea and that is to paint something.
How a normal person paints something:
Buy can of paint. Return home. Change into
'painting' clothes. Lay out newspaper. Tape
areas in which we do not want paint to bleed,
tidy up after fantastic quick and easy paint job.
How I paint something:
Buy can of paint. Wrong kind. Return to store. At
home and while wearing favorite jeans and tank top
-pop lid off can of white paint. Paint lid falls on shirt
and rolls down jeans. Paint can lid drops to floor.
Cursing. Hobble to to try and wash off paint with
water-duh-remember I need turpentine. Don't have
any. Walk towards door. Trip on fallen broom-grab
table to balance yet knock off paint can onto floor.
Giant, massive, huge white puddle develops worthy
of photo but no time. Hands and clothes now covered
in white paint. Bring hand to temples in shock and
get paint in hair. More cursing. Mop giant, massive,
huge white puddle up with old newspapers and put
into garbage bag. Bring garbage out. Return to kitchen
only to see that underside of flip flop unknowingly
has paint on it. Entire apartment filled with white polka
dots from everywhere I walked. Have yet to even begin
painting.
