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.