Jul 2008
Kilz
07/10/08 12:09 PM Filed in: Stories
We had
to paint the ceiling of cabin Esther yesterday for
reasons I shan’t go into since they make little sense
to me. Rachel, Jesse, and I went up there after lunch
to paint for about an hour. Of course, boredom set in
quickly since all we were doing was moving our arms
back and forth, so Rachel and I put face paint under
our eyes. Yes, the paint we were using for the
ceiling.
Another while went by and Rachel said, “Hey, let’s paint our faces like Ben!” She said she would do it if I did it, so I came over to the bunk she was sitting on and let her decorate my face. Then it was her turn. So I decorated her face. Then Jesse was up, so Rachel painted a uni-brown and beard onto him.
“Wouldn’t it be funny if this wasn’t actually latex paint?” inquired Rachel.
Jesse assured us it was, and, in fact, it said Kilz Latex right on the side of the can. Even still, it would have been funny. Being latex paint, Rachel and I left ours on for the rest of the afternoon, thinking we could just wash it right off. Jesse chickened out and washed his off after a short while.
After Dinner I decided it was shower time. I figured a washcloth and warm water would take my latex paint right off. After all, it wasn’t oil-based ... Rachel and I got oil based paint on ourselves a few weeks ago, and it was definitely attached to us for at least a week. That stuff does not come out. What we didn’t expect was that, though the paint was latex, it was Kilz interior/exterior professional grade paint. Meaning it’s obviously weather resistant and very strong.
The joke ended up being on me. It took me for 45 minutes to get the paint off my face, and I’m quite sure I took off at least one, if not more, layer of skin. And I made my face bleed. Luckily, I took a shower directly after this to clean myself up. My face still slightly hurts, but the good news is I got it all off!
Lesson to be learned: Don’t put exterior paint on yourself intentionally; it’s tough stuff! Jesse’s so smart ...
Another while went by and Rachel said, “Hey, let’s paint our faces like Ben!” She said she would do it if I did it, so I came over to the bunk she was sitting on and let her decorate my face. Then it was her turn. So I decorated her face. Then Jesse was up, so Rachel painted a uni-brown and beard onto him.
“Wouldn’t it be funny if this wasn’t actually latex paint?” inquired Rachel.
Jesse assured us it was, and, in fact, it said Kilz Latex right on the side of the can. Even still, it would have been funny. Being latex paint, Rachel and I left ours on for the rest of the afternoon, thinking we could just wash it right off. Jesse chickened out and washed his off after a short while.
After Dinner I decided it was shower time. I figured a washcloth and warm water would take my latex paint right off. After all, it wasn’t oil-based ... Rachel and I got oil based paint on ourselves a few weeks ago, and it was definitely attached to us for at least a week. That stuff does not come out. What we didn’t expect was that, though the paint was latex, it was Kilz interior/exterior professional grade paint. Meaning it’s obviously weather resistant and very strong.
The joke ended up being on me. It took me for 45 minutes to get the paint off my face, and I’m quite sure I took off at least one, if not more, layer of skin. And I made my face bleed. Luckily, I took a shower directly after this to clean myself up. My face still slightly hurts, but the good news is I got it all off!
Lesson to be learned: Don’t put exterior paint on yourself intentionally; it’s tough stuff! Jesse’s so smart ...
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I "Raced" A Van
07/05/08 10:22 PM Filed in: Stories
Today I had to run to
Wal-Mart for, well, Sparkling Grape Juice. It was
absolutely necessary, trust me. That stuff is
addictive. I was in my van, of course, because it’s
the only vehicle to be seen in. Of course, I had the
tunes cranked and I was in my own little world. (I
may or may not have been car dancing ...)
I pulled a stop light and white van pulled up beside me. As I reached to chain the radio station, I heard the other van rev it’s engine, and I saw out of the corner of my eye the passenger roll down his window and shout at me. I rolled down my window as well; I’m always up for a short car-to-car-chat.
“Hey, man, nice van you got there!” I sensed a bit of sarcasm, so I decided to return the gesture.
“Aw, you’re just jealous of my rims.” The driver leaned forward, grinned like an idiot, and layed his foot down on the gas one more time.
“Wanna go?” They questioned. It was at this point I had the severe craving to do something I’ve always dreamt of.
“I don’t think you wanna touch this,” I teased as I pushed down on the gas to let my ’02 Town and Country purr. The passenger and his driver looked at each other and laughed giddily. It was at this point I realized there were several passengers in the back of the van, all bouncing up and down as well. These were all obviously college students, like myself.
I rolled up the window and nodded at my new amigos. We both stared intently at the light. It snapped green and the world seemed to slow ... I could see everyone in the car to my left throw their hands in the air and scream at the driver, urging him on in the race! I heard their car rev up and start to move forward. At the same time, I slammed down (not literally, Mom, don’t worry) on the accelerator in my Chrysler.
But there was one difference between his van and mine. Mine was in park. Intentionally. The white van shot ahead (as only mini-vans can do) as my engine whined and I sat still. Seconds later I saw break lights from the white mini-van. I pulled the gear shift down into drive and started easing foward towards Wal-Mart. The other van slowed enough for me to easily catch them, and their window was down again, all arms in the car flailing wildly, mouths hurling insults at me (most of them too colorful for me to actually want to listen). I left my window up and only smiled as I passed them.
There’s hardly a better feeling than that when you’re in a vehicle. Unless, of course, you’re actually in a car with power ... in that case, racing and winning would be a far better feeling.
I pulled a stop light and white van pulled up beside me. As I reached to chain the radio station, I heard the other van rev it’s engine, and I saw out of the corner of my eye the passenger roll down his window and shout at me. I rolled down my window as well; I’m always up for a short car-to-car-chat.
“Hey, man, nice van you got there!” I sensed a bit of sarcasm, so I decided to return the gesture.
“Aw, you’re just jealous of my rims.” The driver leaned forward, grinned like an idiot, and layed his foot down on the gas one more time.
“Wanna go?” They questioned. It was at this point I had the severe craving to do something I’ve always dreamt of.
“I don’t think you wanna touch this,” I teased as I pushed down on the gas to let my ’02 Town and Country purr. The passenger and his driver looked at each other and laughed giddily. It was at this point I realized there were several passengers in the back of the van, all bouncing up and down as well. These were all obviously college students, like myself.
I rolled up the window and nodded at my new amigos. We both stared intently at the light. It snapped green and the world seemed to slow ... I could see everyone in the car to my left throw their hands in the air and scream at the driver, urging him on in the race! I heard their car rev up and start to move forward. At the same time, I slammed down (not literally, Mom, don’t worry) on the accelerator in my Chrysler.
But there was one difference between his van and mine. Mine was in park. Intentionally. The white van shot ahead (as only mini-vans can do) as my engine whined and I sat still. Seconds later I saw break lights from the white mini-van. I pulled the gear shift down into drive and started easing foward towards Wal-Mart. The other van slowed enough for me to easily catch them, and their window was down again, all arms in the car flailing wildly, mouths hurling insults at me (most of them too colorful for me to actually want to listen). I left my window up and only smiled as I passed them.
There’s hardly a better feeling than that when you’re in a vehicle. Unless, of course, you’re actually in a car with power ... in that case, racing and winning would be a far better feeling.
There's A Dead Man In My Front Yard
07/05/08 09:51 PM Filed in: Stories
It’s true; I’m not even
joking. There literally is a dead man in my front
yard. It’s the strangest thing.
It all started a few weeks ago when he started emerging from the ground. His head was above ground just enough for it ot make a ruccus when we mowed. It was alright for a while, but Dad got a bit fed up. The dead man kept rising further and further out of the ground, thus giving a harder blow to our fine mower. Not to mention the dead man ... But he’s dead, so what does he care?
This weekend Dad decided to take action. We went over to Randy’s (my neighbor) to borrow an extension cord, ran the line clear from the house to my front yard, and took a hand saw with us. We dug up around the dead man and pulled him as far up as we could. Then Dad started to saw off his head, which ended up being a bit more difficult than we had originally anticipated; the saw kept kicking back, very nearly slicing my and/or Dad’s finger off. Finally, the head just fell off. We shoved the remainder of the body as far into the ground as we could and put dirt back over it. I don’t think it will push it’s way back through the dirt and hit the mower blade again ... At least, I hope not.
I’m not sure if our front yard was an old cemetary and my house was the church or what, but it’s a bit awkward having a dead man rising out of your own front yard.
For those of you who are completely confused and have believed this post, a “dead man” is an metal achor for a power pole to give back pressure so the pole isn’t pulled over by the power cables tension. Probably there used to be power lines running through my front yard.
It all started a few weeks ago when he started emerging from the ground. His head was above ground just enough for it ot make a ruccus when we mowed. It was alright for a while, but Dad got a bit fed up. The dead man kept rising further and further out of the ground, thus giving a harder blow to our fine mower. Not to mention the dead man ... But he’s dead, so what does he care?
This weekend Dad decided to take action. We went over to Randy’s (my neighbor) to borrow an extension cord, ran the line clear from the house to my front yard, and took a hand saw with us. We dug up around the dead man and pulled him as far up as we could. Then Dad started to saw off his head, which ended up being a bit more difficult than we had originally anticipated; the saw kept kicking back, very nearly slicing my and/or Dad’s finger off. Finally, the head just fell off. We shoved the remainder of the body as far into the ground as we could and put dirt back over it. I don’t think it will push it’s way back through the dirt and hit the mower blade again ... At least, I hope not.
I’m not sure if our front yard was an old cemetary and my house was the church or what, but it’s a bit awkward having a dead man rising out of your own front yard.
For those of you who are completely confused and have believed this post, a “dead man” is an metal achor for a power pole to give back pressure so the pole isn’t pulled over by the power cables tension. Probably there used to be power lines running through my front yard.