Yeah, yeah, its been a while since I had a good rant, but there's just so much madness going on in the world that I was overwhelmed with stupidity and took to sitting on my ass and playing Angry Birds.
FINE! I don't really need an excuse to sit on my ass and play Angry Birds, and seriously, I'm not addicted to it in any way, its perfectly normal to sit for hours on the toilet and play it, so SHUT UP AND STOP JUDGING!
I figured I'd follow up on the spray painting the mailbox post a few after the fact... mainly because I wanted to be sure that the new paint job wasn't going to wash off in the rain and then I'd be sitting here gloating over how pretty the mailbox actually turned out when in fact I'd be a liar, liar, pants on fire with a craptastic mailbox.
So... if you recall in our last adventures, I tried to spray paint numbers on the stupid thing, but the numbers ran, so I had blobs of white paint and ... oh good gah, just go read the last blog entry and catch up. Hurry up, we'll wait for you, and no, we won't talk behind your back (bitch).
Ok, so rather than hack off my finger trying to install a new one, or paying someone to replace it, I just bought more spray paint. Of course you are rolling your eyes thinking I'm sadistic, but this time I actually did research and found out that the spray paint that I used isn't for plastic. So I found the stuff that you can actually use on plastic, except it wasn't the BRAND I wanted, which meant they didn't have the cool plum color I wanted (bastard Home Depot), so I opted for the "Hunter Green", although the bright orange was tempting... and had I been single, it would have been my color of choice, but part of marriage is give and take... mostly give, with some taking when the other is asleep or passed out or handcuffed to the radiator. Please note, we have no radiators in the house, so I'm not disclosing any family secrets here.
After 20 minutes of circling the spray paint department of Home Depot, I go to pay for my purchases, and opt for the self checkout, because I was in a foul mood to begin with, I just wanted to scream at the faux happy mechanical check-out bot and leave. Of course that was impossible, because apparently in the state of craptastic Merryland, you have to show someone your drivers license to buy spray paint.
Why? I have no frickin clue what this accomplishes... that I can drive to my next tagging gig? That I'm old enough to drive a car and therefore know to buy the gold spray paint to huff (p.s. I have no idea why huffers like the gold paint, but a friend speculated it was because gold is expensive... looking, or they want to look like Goldfinger, although they would actually look like Jill Masterson, the hapless employee of Goldfinger, who is spray painted gold by Oddjob and killed by epidermal suffocation... which isn't even a plausible cause of death, and more likely she succumbed to the stupid plot line, but I digress).
So, even though I did everything humanly possible to avoid human contact, I was forced to show the "keeper of the machines" my drivers license and then wait for her to figure out how to let the machine know that I'm old enough to huff spray paint if I damn well want.
As there was a pretty stiff 60mph wind that afternoon... ok, it was like 10 mph, I waited for the next day and then spray painted the mailbox Hunter Green... and it looks pretty good. Of course I should have waiting for the mailman to pick up the mail, because the timing from completion to completely dry was interrupted by mail delivery and once slightly pissed mailman, so there was some touch up to the door, but otherwise it went smoothly.
The next day, using the stupid stencils, I used a paint brush and white paint and TAH DAH!
No, I'm not going to take a picture of it because then my street address would be there for the world to see, and I'm not going to airbrush it out because then you would all be like "look at the big glob of airbrush on it, that looks like crap", and since I know most of you are haters of pretty green mailboxes, you can just imagine and scoff to yourselves.
Tomorrow: I cut the Federal budget with wood chipper.