This particular incident has nothing do with the kids. I can't even blame it on the kids, though I'm sure if you gave me enough time I could figure out a way to. This is all me baby...and Brewerman. Who was no help at all as he was laughing like a hyena.
It all started with a kitchen table. I found one that could actually sit us all on the cheap, it just needed painted black. No problem right? I might even "distress" it oooooooo because that is REALLY easy when I am sitting on my fat butt looking at Pinterest.
I go to the local Sherman Williams store.
I want something that LASTS I say, oil based paint - he says! I buy, he smiles, I wince as I pay, then I leave. Of course I want to start RIGHT away so I get to sanding. This is easy! I am loving this. Psh, people pay hundreds for this and look at me, just kicking it out. Vanerellian stopped by and asks me slowly "You plan on doing all of this tonight?" I smirk, "Of course! Look at me! I'm so cool!" BLAH.
Anyways, after sanding, I go out to paint. Painting looks so easy, and "is" so easy...if you are painting a 4"x4" canvas square. A dining table (with fancy schmancy legs with fancy schmancy crevices that I just HAD to have) is not. Throw in a bench and 5 chairs with a million poles each and someone should have just punched me in the face a couple times, I'm sure I'd be less sore.
As a painting novice I may have bit off more than I can chew. The round poles on the chairs were like torture devices by the time I got to the fifth gosh darn mother loving chair. At that point the only reason I kept going is because Brewerman told me a couple times that I needed to stop and do the rest the next day. Challenge accepted.
At one point I got paint on my arm, then the other arm, then I looked like a tattooed biker complete with face tattoos and a pissed off attitude. I dipped my hair in the paint lid can that I decided to keep in the middle of the floor like the idiot I am. I immediately went to wash it out, Brewerman told me to just let it dry first. I shrugged and went on my painting freaking way.
FINALLY I get done. Last f#$&*# bench is done and painted. My hands resemble cramped up claws, but it was done.
Now time to clean up.
Oil freaking-Based freaking paint.
Hmmm...okay well paint thinner will have to be used for my biker arms. That worked well even though I was sure I just gave myself cancer.
Now for a shower.
Wait.....remember that "dipped my hair in paint". Huh, that chunk o' paint is now holding half my hair in one giant dried up rubberish worm like...thing.
I go for shampoo....well that didn't work. F&*#$(& Brewerman. "Just let it dry."
I immediately scream at him from the bathroom and we have a five minute discussion on paint thinner in my hair and if it will bleach. As the glob that is my hair refuses to give one last time I just tell him to go for it.
And that is where we went wrong, folks. Terribly...terribly...wrong.
B: "Cup your hand and I will pour thinner in it and just rub it in your hair."
N: "Oh god just hurry! My hair! Oh my god, my hair!!"
B: "Okay here we go."
N: "Okay it's working"
B: "Holy shit"
N: "WHAT!?!? What!?! Oh god, am I a blond?"
B: "Oh my gosh, Natalie, look down."
*Gray streaks of watered down paint thinner and paint are pouring down me. Except it's oil-based...they don't go away!! I look like a bruised prostitue from the 20's complete with the rolls."
N: "GAAAAAH, Brewerman GET IT OFF!! What the hell!!?! I freaking TOLD you I shouldn't have let it dry. What is going on!?! AHHHHHH!"
*Brewerman is laughing his ass off.*
At this exact moment, paint thinner gets in my eyes from what once was normal hair and is now dripping poison and paint.
N: "OWWWW!! SOB *beep, beep, beep* I have paint thinner in my eyes!" *Wildly throws my arms in the air.*
B: "Shut the water off!!"
N: "I can't see! I'm dying!!"
B: "Oh god, I'll shut it off"
N: "Ahhhhhh my eyes!"
Brewerman starts laughing again as we realize the full amount of grey that is now splattered all over me. Then immediately stops laughing as we realize it is splattering all over our about-to-be-sold shower. I would have too but my eyes were swollen shut by that time.
B: "Oh shit. It's all over!! We have to get this off the shower! SOB!! Why does this always happen when we sell our homes!? Here!"
Brewerman then throws paint thinner all over the shower and hands me a towel.
N: "Screw the shower, wipe me off!! Is it working? Dah my eyes! I can't see! Stop laughing you jerk! It's still coming! It wont stop dripping grey paint."
B: "Seriously Natalie, this is so freaking funny."
N: "If I could see right now I would punch you."
Finally I wash my hair in the bath 5 times and four more times including vinegar and olive oil and it finally stops dripping grey death. Brewerman is still laughing. Good news is paint thinner takes off years of grime in the shower so it's never been cleaner. My hair seems to not be too bleached but I still smell like paint thinner, and my hands are still cramped into creepy looking claws.
Did I mention everything still needs a second coat tomorrow? I also just read that paint thinner makes your hair fall out and bleaches it down to the root. I am going to be one sexy lady. Freaking google..
***Sorry for the cussing. Not really. I may or may not be a tad high right now from paint fumes.***