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We’ll Try the Beige Instead

When it comes to updating a room in the old house, little can compare to the utter rage-inducing past time of painting the walls… and spattering that color all over the flooring, regardless of how careful you were in shoring-up that drop cloth. The choices in hue are endless, as are the finishes. There’s interior semi-gloss, interior satin and eggshell and matte paint. And while it’s certainly fun to do your own painting, it’s even more fun to pass judgement on these people you call your “friends” when you visit THEIR homes.

Now, far be it for me to judge one’s interior decorating skills, but it’s painfully obvious having been there a few times now, that this person’s “paint professional” at Lowes has misunderstood them time and again, and instead of giving them a nice decorator color in a sheen befitting the futon and loads of worthless tchotchkes on the crookedly-hung IKEA shelving, said paint guy has blindly swiped the first can of “interior meh” that he drunkenly stumbled toward on the shelf marked “What In the Holy Fuck Were We Thinking When We Chose THIS Shit-Licking Color?! And How Does That Fucking Midget Dago Cake Boss Warrant a Line of Paint Colors? Seriously… ‘Bada-Bing Blueberry Pie’ SHOULD be called ‘I Would Claw My Eyes Out if There Weren’t Some Chance of My Subconscious Recalling This Color and Forcing Me to Have Dreams of Being Chased Around By a South Jersey Version of Violet Beauregarde Wanting to Give Me Some Sort of Anaphylaxis-Inducing Blowjob… Did I Mention That in This Particular Dream That She Has Teeth Not Unlike Evil Ed From That Fright Night Movie and Some Sort of a Twitch in Her Neck? Well, She Does, and In an Alternate, Ambien-Addled Version of This Dream She Gives Birth to a Fully-Grown, Sentient Cabbage Patch Kid Who Sings The Alphabet Song in German But Replaces the Words to Craft a Song About the Many Uses of Cheese Cloth for the Lactose Intolerant, Even Though Cheese Cloth Contains NO FUCKING DAIRY WHATSOEVER, Being Made of Cotton –Which Wouldn’t Be Unlike Stating That You, as a Man Have an Adam’s Apple, When in All Actuality, the Bible Doesn’t Call Out ANY Fruit in Particular, and as We Cannot Be ENTIRELY CERTAIN of Just Where in the Heck This Garden of Eden Was to Begin With, Our Chances of Correctly Naming a Fruit That May Have Grown There are Greatly Reduced, But We Could Certainly Venture to Guess it to Have Been Like a Fig or Something and Don’t Even Get Me Started on this Rib Nonsense But I Digress –  Non-Stop Until I Shove a Red Plastic Wiffle Ball Bat Down its Throat, But Then I Slip on What Appears to Be the Placenta From This Unholy Birthing Deal, But It’s Made of String and Slime and Old Copies of People Magazine and the Next Thing I Know it Becomes That Weird Falling Dream Dark Blue’ ” discounted return paint section.

But on their walls, it works. It just says “her”, you know? And not simply because she looks like some swollen vampire who just won a pie-eating contest. May her diaphragm always be within arm’s reach, should this actually be the case.

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Brian

Brian