My life is nothing if unpredictible.
This weekend Mom and Dad helped me prepare the house some more. One of the projects was painting the “Rock Room” red. (For your reference, the Rock Room is a room where I will house CDs and rock and movie memorabilia.) Also for the record, my parents hate the idea of a red room. My dad says that it reminds him of a whorehouse. (Why he would know what a whorehouse looks like, I don’t know or want to know.) But this is my house, and having grown up in a beige and off-white home, I’m having color damn it. It should also be noted on the record that I bought stupid Home Depot paint, not wanting to spend a fortune on Benjamin Moore or await the reopening of the paint store on Monday. For the record again, Behr paint is crap.
The Mister and I did the dark primer Saturday night and on Sunday it was ready to go. Well, I thought it was. Perhaps it was the paint fumes, perhaps it was exhaustion, but in any event, while painting, Dad got giddy. After about twenty minutes or so, I walked in and instead of painting the wall to paint the wall, he was drawing a large face and next to it it said:
“For a Good Time Call TY-871.“
TY-871 was the number on an old commerical in the area.
He thought he was being so funny and for about ten minutes it was funny. And then I realized that it was on there kind of thick. I stopped laughing. My dad did not. He continued to sing “Roxanne….you don’t have to turn on the red light…” for a good hour afterward. I’m glad I could provide him with such entertainment.
Then came the reality–the damn paint didn’t cover it up completely. I put the second coat on tonight and I’m praying that the face doesn’t show through. I think, the “for a good time” part is covered. I’ll find out tomorrow.
And then I’m going to drag his ass over there to fix it.
To make everything easier, I tried telling my mom about the lasting impression today on the phone. Her response? “Well you bought crappy paint.”
Yes. Of course! How could I miss this? This is my fault. Clearly, my crappy paint purchase forced my father into being a juvenille and vandelizing my home. Understandable.
Behr Paint–you’re on my list. Obviously this is all your fault.