Bring On The Canvas Overcoat!

Ever had one of those really weird days?

If you want an idea how weird my day’s been so far, let’s just say that my afternoon began with me standing in our bathtub, naked from the waist down, ankle deep in very hot soapy water…while drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette.

…and no, I haven’t started taking acid.

Let’s start at the beginning.

My day began with me getting absolutely no sleep. I got into bed at 5am, and by 7am this morning, I was lying there, noxiously awake.

You know. When you’re too awake to go to sleep, but too tired to get out of bed. However, I knew that Sunny wanted us to go grocery shopping, take off the trash and look at some material for new curtains today, so I decided to get up. The alternative was to lie there, get asleep at around 10am, then end up sleeping right through to about 7 in the evening.

My day started, bizarrely, with me firing off a rocket (no, that isn’t a euphemism). Considering I have absolutely nothing but free time, I’m constantly on the lookout for something to occupy me. When I saw a re-usable model rocket for $15, I snapped it up (What can I say, I take after my Dad…I’m a hobby-aholic).

Just in case you’re wondering, the first launch went perfectly. The second time I hadn’t packed the wadding well enough (Not a euphemism either), and the parachute half melted from the ejection charge (ditto on the not euphemism bit). Luckily, it only came with 2 rocket engines, and parachutes are about 15 cents each.

So after the fireworks (Not a euphemism) we went grocery shopping.

Now, a funny thing happens when I’ve not had enough sleep. I get fascinated by everyday words.

So walking through the grocery store, to get the hamburger buns Sunny forgot to pick up the first time around, I noticed a sign next to the mangos:

“Mango….MANgo…manGO. Man go where?” I thought.

It was at this point I actually said “Maaaaan-go.” In exactly the same tone of voice Beavis uses when he says “BUNG-hole.”…but with a slight Barry White/Rico Suave twist.

The old guy, who was putting a mango into his cart at that exact moment, stopped dead, and just gave me a look. You know the look. The look that says: “I don’t know whether to stay perfectly still and hope he goes away, or run for help.” I just gave him a grin, and watched him put the mango back and run away.

Then, on the way back to my wife, I spotted the cans of chili beans, and treated myself to a slightly updated version of the Michael Jackson song ‘Billy Jean.’

Do I need to draw you a picture?

“Chili Beans are not my lover…It’s just a can who says that I am the one…but the tin is not my son.”

Then I drove Sunny nuts by repeating “Man-goooo!” Every 15 minutes.

Then we went to Walmart for the curtain material.

Like all true men do upon entering Walmart, I went to look at the guns. For once, I had a valid reason, I need a new clip for my rifle (Well, it’s actually Sunny’s, but I paid for it), because my dad wants a go when he comes over.

Of course, I looked at the guns for a few minutes, then headed straight for the toy aisle. (Oh, Sunny, in case you read this, I really like the Die-Cast X-Wing…it’s look great on top of my monitor.)

Anyway, remember how our fridge blew up? We got a replacement from my sister in law, but let’s just say the outside was a little dinged up and stained, so we wanted to paint it. Walmart has paint.

So, I desperately tried to convince Sunny to guy the gold spray paint, because it would make our fridge look truly pimpin’. I had it all figured out. My new portable DVD player could be mounted in the freezer, subwoofer in the fridge, spinners on the handles. She said no.

So, after I drove her nuts for a few minutes doing my best Xhibit impression:

“Hey y’all, this is X to the Z Xhibit, and this is Pimp My Fridge!”

In the end, after going through all the possibilities (Sunny nixed my “Paint the fridge white and brown like a cow.” Idea, as well as my “Black, green and brown! Camo baby!” Idea.” We came down to three possible colors: White, to restore the fridge’s original color (BORRRR-ING), Black (Nicer) or Red (Huh?).

Knowing how Sunny usually lets me make the decisions, so she can blame me when it all goes tits up, I left the thing to her:

“Pick a color, black or red.”

“No.”

“Alright, heads or tails?” (I mentally assigned heads to black, tails to red).

“Oh, I’m not good at this.”

“Just pick one, off the top of your head.”

“I don’t know.”

“Alright, pick a number. One or Two.”

“Uhhhh.” (For fuck’s sake…I’m asking for a random choice, not whether you’re pro-choice or pro-life).

“Oh, fer fu…Pick a number between One and Fifty.” (one through twenty-five was red, twenty-six through fifty was black.)

“Uhhh, twenty-three!”

“Red it is!” (Oh fuck, this is going to look terrible).


So we got the red paint. I figured two cans would be enough. Now two cans is enough if you only want to paint the front of the fridge. We wanted to paint the whole thing…oh well.

So we get home, cover the kitchen in newspaper, and we go at it.

Half an hour later, we have the angriest looking fridge in the world, and my glasses, my arms, legs and most of the kitchen has become slightly pink. My feet stick to the newspaper (I wasn’t wearing shoes or socks…I hate both), and I try to shake it off.

Sunny says I look like a cat that’s got sticky-tape stuck to its paw.

Har, bloody, har.

Anyway, by the time I was done, the soles of my feet had become completely red…and that’s why I was standing in a bathtub, naked from the waist down, sipping on coffee and smoking a cigarette.

Good mental picture, huh?

Oh, and as a sidenote, once the cream handles where put back on the fridge, we ended up with a fridge that looks like the interior of classic muscle car.

Shit-hot!

I’ll take a pic and post it if I can be bothered, and if you all find my fridge so interesting. But I probably won’t, because I’m lazy