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For the last oh, I don't know, ten years, I've been wanting to paint my ger poles like a real mongolian ger (below -- not mine). It's about time I did some damn thing about the poles anyway; they're starting to get mildewed and they needed sanding and a coat of paint to protect them anyway.

So when I got back from Gulf Wars, I got myself some paint (I think that orange and turquoise crap is eye-stabbingly horrid, so I'm doing red and black and gold -- ha! go figure). I thought I've only got a little 10 foot ger with 27 roof poles, it's not like it's a 16 foot with the 50-some poles, how long could it take?

Ok, the first week of painting was fun. The second, not so much. The third was tiresome. I'm in the FOURTH WEEK OF PAINTING these kefarging poles, and I don't have ONE GODDAMN ONE finished yet. And I simplified the fucking design. You know, I'm fairly certain those Mongols find the fat kid who can't ride a horse and sit him in the corner, give him some paint and the goddamn poles and say, "Here, Dorkatai, knock yourself out. Take your time, just stay out of our fucking way," and figure that ought to be good for a year. Or hell, two.

I will be painting these poles for the rest of my natural life. I did all the large swaths of color outside, and I'm doing the detail sitting at the coffee table in front of the tv. As a result, I'm watching a hell of a lot of tv. Did you know that even with satellite daytime tv is mind-numbingly stupid? Jeez, I guess everybody's supposed to be at an office job or something during the day. So I'm turning my brain to jello on paint fumes and stupid tv.

Emeril Lagasse is an idiot. BAM! You'd think that a trained chef could properly pronounce fruits de mer (a mixed seafood dish). He says "froots da mare." No, Emeril, it's pronounced "free d'mare." Moron. Neither is fra diavolo "fried diablo." Where is Donald Trump to say you're fired? I know why Elvis shot his television. 5000 channels and nothing on.

As for the rest of you who are waiting for your art commissions, now you know why they're late. I'm high on paint fumes. Sorry.



( 17 comments — Leave a comment )
Apr. 5th, 2009 07:48 pm (UTC)
Welcome. Come in and welcome!
You've found your way into my project plane and timeline have you? The world stops turning and you're on a ferris wheel spinning to another Universe's beat!

How well do I know it!
So nice to have company too. It gets lonely up here you know but you get used to it.
Apr. 5th, 2009 07:50 pm (UTC)
I must say the decor is FAAbulous.
Apr. 5th, 2009 08:07 pm (UTC)
And that is why I havent started yet..even though I want to do mine.
Apr. 6th, 2009 01:44 am (UTC)
Apr. 5th, 2009 08:54 pm (UTC)
"Dorkatai" *snort*!!
And Emeril's not french, he's Cajun, if anything. Therefore I don't expect much from his accent/dialect. Or his cooking, to be honest.
Give me Alton Brown any day, or Gordon Ramsay if I'm in a mood.
Perhaps it's time to just paint background coat, and explore stencils or decals for the fancy work??
Apr. 6th, 2009 01:56 am (UTC)
Yeah, you know Dorkatai's a Brother, too. LOL

Too late for stencils -- on this project, anyway. Good thought, I will carry it with me for the future... aaaaaaaa
Apr. 5th, 2009 11:11 pm (UTC)
Um, see the Mongols have Aspies too.

In Mongol society Aspies design the yurts and paint the poles. From sun up to sun down from the time they are 3 until they die.

And they like it.

Sadly for Dorkatai is their tribal liason. The Mongol Aspies get violently pissed if they have to stop to eat or explain what they are doing. Dorkatai hates it but he can't sit a horse.
Apr. 6th, 2009 01:53 am (UTC)
Where's Dorkatai when you need him?

Can one be half-Aspie? It seems to be a requirement for a Laurel...

I design yurts and paint poles. From sun up to sun down from the time I was 3, more or less. Well, design and paint things, anyway. And I sure as hell get violently pissed if I have to stop to eat or explain what I'm doing. [torin3 can tell you I needed remedial social training to learn to interact with human beings in the middle of projects...] The Man had to make sure I was eating, because I wasn't while I was engrossed in painting. One minute, it was 9 am. The next, somehow, it was 2 am, and I didn't feel so good. Stupid clocks -- I blame them.

However, I don't always enjoy it. I can be distracted with new projects and shiny objects. I'm only a dilettante when it comes to OCD, I can't keep up with it. And I can ride a horse like a pro.

Man, I can't get anything right. LOL
Apr. 6th, 2009 05:50 am (UTC)
you know iffen you had spoke up I would have sent ya the evil spray painter the big one for you know walls and stuff .... but for the rest of the design can't help ya' there....

So Pennsic is still gonna be the 10ft gher?

Apr. 6th, 2009 05:51 am (UTC)
oh run up and grab Breezy muahahaha she can paint.
Apr. 6th, 2009 05:58 am (UTC)
Paint every-other one. Then do the others some other year. No? How about "These danged poles will now last for years and years and every time I look at them I will think, "That was one long gol-damned project but dayum! don't they look good. I love staring at them while I'm laying down. I should lay down more often. Hey! Hubby! Cum'mmer hand help me lay down for a while." And then you can argue over who gets to be looking at the ceiling...
Apr. 6th, 2009 06:49 pm (UTC)
God, you're brilliant.

You'd think you'd done tons of crazy involved Laurel projects yoursel-- heyyyyyy....

Apr. 6th, 2009 04:09 pm (UTC)
Okay, between Dorkatai and Emeril Lagasse you had me laughing over my keyboard until I cried.

You've made my morning.
Apr. 6th, 2009 05:43 pm (UTC)
Meanwhile, sarapooh has decreed that our SCA camping bed will be a four poster. Which must be completed in time for Uprising.

Plumbing words substitute for the lack of appropriate carpentry words. And I finished the project. Go me.
Apr. 6th, 2009 06:54 pm (UTC)
Regulation shop talk is regulation shop talk regardless of profession. Rock on.

I once dropped a heavy roasting pan on my foot in the kitchen in front of the children. Attempting to not use regulation shop talk, I said, "OW -- LOUD -- SWEARING" while gritting my teeth and spitting the words out ala Superman suffering from Kryptonite.

8 year old Devin tugged at my shirt and said, "The word you're looking for is 'fuck.'"

God love children.
Apr. 6th, 2009 07:44 pm (UTC)
From the mouths of babes and innocents...
Apr. 6th, 2009 10:17 pm (UTC)
looong projects
I was considering starting another knitted dress.... But I'll settle for weaving the cloth so Iofa can embroider it....
( 17 comments — Leave a comment )