While I was only meaning to unleash my inner lesbian by volunteering to help renovate Peter's apartment, my inner gansta seems to have snuck out as well. Maybe it was the do-rag I was sporting yesterday. Or the "chicks dig my sweet ride" tee-shirt. (And, yes, chicks do indeed dig my sweet ride.) For some reason I feel compelled to yell "peace out, muthafukahhhhhhhhhs," when exiting a room full of people. Maybe it's nothing at all to go with my inner gangsta, and everything to do with being a suburban white girl. Apparently it's not an uncommon ailment.
Potty mouth aside, I realized that I quite like home remodeling. This will come in handy when I get to SD because the catch to Paul finding a reasonably priced 2 bedroom in my favorite area is that the second of those bedrooms has a "cloud-scape" painted on the ceiling. I'm not sure we can do anything about the wood panelling in the living room (Paul vetoed my suggestion that we take up macrame), but the white-washing of that ceiling will be Paul and me's first household couple project since assembling his flat-pack IKEA table.
Yesterday was also my first taste of caffeine and alcohol since the demon-virus. I was up until 1am - I usually tuck in around 10:30 - and woke up at 7am ready to take on the world. I was the first back at Peter's because I wanted to remove the painting tape from the bathroom walls. I was also thinking I needed to get there before his other friends because they put too much paint on the brush, roll and edger. I'm realizing that my control-freak disposition might make me unpleasant company, so I'm trying to chill out, but I don't think the tall non-fat no-whip caramel macchiato I had this morning is helping. Too much caffeine, muthafukahhhhhs.....
No comments:
Post a Comment