Stamped: December 4th, 2006 | Toggle Similar
Tagged: complaint dept., just plain stupid, lists.

I spent most of my weekend–like, all of it–painting a room in my house. One room. The smallest room, actually, in my house. I probably used a total of one gallon of paint, and I even had, at one point, three other girls assisting me. All the brushes are cleaned and drying, the blue tape has been removed, and furniture has been replaced to its original stomping ground. The odor is even starting it's slow process of dissipation.

But fuck me if I can't help but sit here and be miserable. And yes, I've already assessed the situation: no splashes of paint on the carpet or other inappropriate spots, all friends left in amicable moods and still on speaking terms, and no moments of realization resulting in last-minute and time-consuming trips to Wal-Mart for that damn paint roller. Nope, everything went relatively smoothly.

So why am I miserable? Other than the fact that I'm a perfectionist, I've narrowed it down to one of two things. Either I have stupid friends, or I just hate painting. I'm not sure, but I think it's the latter.

Yep, cue the list…

Top ten reasons it's a good thing Jenna didn't become an interior designer (in no particular order):

1. Because stencils require measuring. And taping. And waiting for shit to dry. Failure to follow such measures results in an effect similar to that of your finger-painting days.

2. I really wish I could still just use finger paints and spent a considerable amount of time contemplating the idea.

3. There's actually some merit behind the reason why painter's tape was invented. And why, like, professionals use it.

4. Because although I can pick out two colors that match, I can't exactly remember that there's cherry wood edging-stuff in the room that may, in fact, clash with those lovely hues.

5. I say things like "edging-stuff."

6. I took two days to paint a small room. With lots of help. My rates would be astronomical.

7. And, in the end, I'd still be unfinished. And sad. Except you'd have to live with it, not me.

8. Because I think it's appropriate to play loud, obnoxious music when I'm painting. It dulls the pain. I'd likely do the same thing in your house.

9. God, how do you get paint off domestic animals?

10. Because, after typing up this entire list, I *just* realized that an interior desinger would probably have some goon do her painting for her. But I just wrote this entire fucking post! Fuck.

Fuck. I have paint in my hair, ok? And that's after a shower. If anyone tells me about the paint on my nose today at work, I'm going to tell them it's not paint. It's cancer, ok? Green, freckle-y cancer. Now aren't YOU the gigantic, insensitive asshole!

My back hurts, too.

I know, I know. No one gives a flying fuck. Isn't that the worst part about wanting to whine? Does anyone ever really care or feel the sorrow that you so desperately desire? Damn. I hate painting.

Last 5 posts by Jenna

• peace out, my lovlies - June 8th, 2007
• bringing sexy back - May 28th, 2007
• I'm no James Woods - May 21st, 2007
• fellow commuters: grunt! - May 14th, 2007
• No, no I don't. - May 7th, 2007