Feb 27, 2005

Ya great numpty

I think I may have mentioned this before, but I read only a few blogs in addition to my own. *grin* I find most people's meanderings rather unattractive, and politics holds no interest for me. I know this is a hard thing for me to be saying, as I have my own tail hanging out in the wind for people to view and comment on, but hey--I do this because I have to, not because I am seeking approval or pay.

What got me wound up is this--one of the few blogs I was reading has wandered off it's usual 'course,' and while I rarely if ever read the comments sections on other folk's blogs I happened to notice a surprising number of comments on a 'new' post, so I followed up on them, and was astounded to see at least half of the comments were telling the authoress that the last two posts were boring, worthless, and otherwise lacking in worth.

Uhm...people, are you PAYING her to write? Did you go to paypal, type her email in and send money to support her efforts? Did you commission her to write something for you? No.

Here's a news flash--no one owes you anything. Life does not owe you an easy time, and just because you read someone's blog who tends to write about sex from a professional's standpoint does NOT mean that she has to post about that every time, she does NOT have to titillate you, forgive the pun, and she does NOT have to perform for you. She writes well, she writes intelligently, which is more than I can say for 95% of the blogs I have browsed since I took up this little hobby of mine, and damn, she's just as much a person as you or I. She has moods, she has her own Muse that she follows, and just because she does not want to write about her latest John does not give you a right to bark.

*pant pant*

I get carried away. I do. I dislike freeloaders, and dislike people who feel that they've been let down by life because life didn't give them what they wanted when they wanted it. My stars and garters, get a life, people. This is not Burger King, you will not get it your way when you ask.

So! Enough ranting.

I have been painting today. I would prefer to tell you that I have been painting on a canvas, either a new creation or an old one being finished, but it's not to be. I have been painting a bookcase.

Actually I started painting a wall, a tremendous wall, a wall that reached up to...well, the ceiling, but the ceiling was a good 25' away. My current job suckered me this morning. We had a store meeting at 6 am, and yes, on a Sunday morning, which did not sit well with me, but for now I'm a good old Irrelephant and follow the rules, but what irked me was that those of us who were loyal to the job showed up for a ten minute meeting and then were sent to the front to clean, clean, clean.

Poorly played, management. Very poor form indeed. Punishing the faithful is not the way to win employee loyalty.

And so Irrelephant, being loyal and not particularly bright just took the bit in his trunk and started what I do best--paint. I painted from 6:20 am until almost noon, two coats of generic white, dispensed from a great big 5 gallon industrial can, rolled and rolled and rolled this gunk across the entire 40' length and 25' height, then back again. I stood on the ground, stood on a ladder, and finally had to stand on a ladder with an extension pole attached to the roller frame to get the highest point, but I finished it.

So what did I do after?

Came home and started painting again.

Yeah, I'm quite the numpty too, aren't I.

See, I like books. A lot. And I've got a few paperbacks. Okay, a lot. Big teetering stacks of them. Dangerous stacks of them. Silverfish have wet dreams over these heaped stacks of paperbacks. And at the old house I had a bookcase I build specifically for paperbacks--shallow depth, short shelves, and a lot of them. I brought this bookshelf to the new house, but never really used it because while a dark mahogany finish fit fine at the old room (oak paneling) it does not fit the new house (mostly light to medium basic colours.) So, the stain being oil-based, the only answer was to Kilz it, then paint it to match the room it's in now.

The Kilz went on two evenings before, and the house stank of paint. I started in this afternoon on it again, got about half-way through before my arm threatened to fall off, and the house stinks of paint.

Why not paint it outside, I hear you shout. This is Louisiana, people. When it rains, it's humid. When it doesn't rain, it's humid. When it's the middle of summer and dogs are hiding under every porch and truck, it's humid. Latex paint takes about a day to dry outside, oil-based stains and paints take about a week. Most paint can grow mold here before it dries, if it's outside. I have seen painted surfaces on houses here turn from "Seafoam Green Exterior" to "Mold" overnight. I have seen people fall asleep in public places and awaken the next morning to find themselves suddenly fuzzy dark green all over with mildew. I have seen whole buildings abandoned to the insistent attack of mushrooms.

People, it's damp here.

So I paint inside.

Mind you, I'm not complaining. I'm just tired. My arms hurt. My back hurts, my feet hurt, I hurt. So what do I do? Sit down, and type. My fingers hurt now.


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