Adventures in Latex!

Hello, gentle readers!
I'm surprised I'm actually doing a blog as today has been a bit of a bear.
First, I woke up super-early to let in my contractor.  He was here for most of the morning, then left around noon, after doing some minor repairs to my kitchen counter tops and installing my cabinet doors in the master bedroom.  So, now my house is about 99.9% finished! Yay! Now if I can just get the final piece for my sink, we'll be done! Yay!
Or, at least, I'll be done with these contractors.
Because today, after my guy left, I climbed in my car and, on a whim, stopped at the Goodwill to see if they had any sheets. They did. I bought two, deciding I would use them as drop cloths when I started painting my living room.
And then, on the spur of the moment, I went to Lowes and bought a gallon of primer and a paint roller, came home and started working on my living room wall.
Now, ladies and gentlemen, I am not particularly mechanical.  And by that, I mean that if you put a tool in my hand, I'm going to do something awful with it. Usually to whatever I'm working on or, in rare instances to myself or someone around me. (For God's sake! Don't let me near a nail gun!)
So, as I started painting, I was waiting for something to happen.
And it did.
About twenty minutes into my painting, I knocked over my can of paint. Thankfully, it poured mostly onto my foot and my drop clothes.  My carpet was untouched.
So, after smearing some latex from my foot on the wall, and cleaning up as best I could, I went back to work. Amazingly, I had enough paint left to give the wall one crappy-looking coat.
But, hey! It looks better than the ugly brown color the previous tenants liked.
I'm planning on doing the rest of the living room this month and maybe even painting it. Or, more likely, finding someone cheap to do the painting for me.
In any event, my little adventure in latex was not the disaster I had thought it would be.  Even if I did just spend thirty minutes in the tub scrubbing paint off my foot.
What next?
A glass of wine! :D

Movies That Never Were

Good morning, gentle readers.

Creativity sometimes takes us down peculiar paths.  Occasionally, it inspires us to create things that are just  . . .  odd.

So, with that in mind, I now present, for your entertainment, a selection of movies that never were.  

It should go without saying that the various properties presented belong entirely to their respective owners and that these images are created simply for fun.

(Fiction) After Hours at the Red Dragon

"Genies are a fucking pain in the ass," said Krosp.

It was after-hours and Krosp and I were unwinding in the Red Dragon. Nursing strong drinks, we compared and commiserated on what a load of crap the day had been.

"You tell ‘em they have to wear a mana-inhibitor and they start making a big scene about racial profiling and shit," clarified Krosp. "I had to call Security twice because of those bastards. I never understood why they wanted to immigrate anyway."

"Have you seen the Middle East lately? It’s not exactly welcoming to the magically inclined, Krosp."

He shrugged. "Whatever."

"Besides, I’d rather deal with genies than fucking werewolves any day of the month."

"Bad one today?"

"Super-bad. Not only did he have stinky dog breath he drooled all over my desk. I went through a whole roll of paper towels trying to clean that yuck up and then Simmons gets on my ass about slowing down the line."

"That bitch," said Krosp. "You know the only reason they gave her the job is because they needed to fill the department’s diversity quota."

"Yeah, I know that and you know that and even Simmons knows it. Why do you think she’s such a bitch to everyone?"

"I heard someone’s already filed a complaint about her with Personnel."

"That was quick."

"Yeah. And restrained. I always thought someone would just hex her and get it over with."

"Ha! Who says they haven’t? You know she has to sit on one of those inflatable donuts."

"Really?" Krosp’s bushy eyebrows rose in surprise. "You think someone’s zapped her?"

I nodded. "That’s the rumor. That someone’s given her a raging case of hemorrhoids."

"Ouch."

"Yeah, well, I can’t feel too much sympathy for her. She brings it on herself."

"Whatever," murmured Krosp. He took a long pull from his beer. "Hey! Did I tell you about my weirdo?"

"No, I don’t think so."

"Guy comes into my cube, sits down and hands me his paperwork. Everything’s in order, but he doesn’t have a disclosure form. So, I tell him he needs to fill one out before we can continue and, guess what?"

"What?"

"Guy doesn’t need a disclosure form. He’s totally human."

"Bullshit."

"No, man! I kid you not! He was a flat zero on the Thaumatic Scale. I checked."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Why would a zero want to immigrate?"

"Religious persecution," said Krosp.

"Bummer."

"Yeah. Plus, he’s Canadian."

"What’s that got to do with anything?"

Krosp just gave me a look. "If you’d ever been to Canada, you wouldn’t have to ask."