Well, I've been quite the negli-gentleman, of late, with regards to the ol' bloggy blog. Sorry, we've been busy breaking our house.
The painting is done, and the dickbag who painted it kinda fucked us on the staining of the brick, which he said would cost us an extra grand. Fuck if we were gonna give him any more of our hard-earned simoleons, so we decided to stain it ourselves. You see where this is going, don't you. Yeah, so we glopped the shit on the brick area of our porch and, while the Old Lady didn't really mind the end result, I thought it sucked balls. Big, sweaty, hairy balls.
And here's something I learned -- it's really fucking impossible to get stain off of brick. Between all the toxic stripping products, gels and unguents we've been slathering onto the side of the house, I wouldn't be surprised if a brand new ozone-hole opened up right above our fucking roof. And it's a good thing we're not having any more spawnages, 'cuz the vapors we've been huffing would most likely yield some sort of perfectly spherical flesh-ball tot. The shit that's on there now is called "Peel-Away," because, while it's doing nothing to the stain, it will probably cause all of my skin to peel away from my skeleton and flop down to around my ankles like a fleshy, hairy wetsuit. Here's what the porch looks now, in all its peel-away-y glory:
Anywhich, the shit's still clinging to the brick, so tomorrow morning I'm renting a power-washer. I figure that if I can't blast the shit off the brick with 2000 psi worth of a death-geyser, I can at least blow out a few windows and ruin all the rough cedar siding.
Raise your hand if you think this is all going to end with the stain still clinging to the brick and my left pinkie toe being power-washed right off my foot and into the bushes.