Now, I'm not a religious man by any stretch, but today, my friends... today I have been saved. I have accepted a personal relationship with my new god -- THE WATER-FUCKING-SHOTGUN!!!!
Holy fuckstain, this machine is THEE SHIT!!! Oh my crap, I can barely move my arms up to the keyboard to type because this beast ripped me a new one SO WIDE that when I sit around the house, I sit AROUND THE HOUSE with an ass that has been ripped clean off.
The whole experience is a blur, actually. I know that I rented the fucker from A,C & E Rentals this morning, they delivered it because of its behemoth-ness, I plugged in the hose, pulled the rip-cord and then... hm... I can't really remember anything after that. I have a vague memory of BLASTING THE SHIT out of all that toxic crap that was adhered to the brick and I remember basically ingesting about 1/2 a pound of said crap as it hurled forth, into my gasping maw at the speed of wet sound. I remember thinking about halfway through it, "Shit, I probably should be wearing a hat... and goggles... and I should really stop eating these toxic paint-stripper flakes, but damn if they aren't paint-stripperiffic!!!"
Of course I didn't have the foresight to video the whole thing because I'm a fucking moron, but the Old Lady did snap one pic early on in the proceedings:
Isn't it beautiful? It's like Christmas, but the snowflakes are poisonous and I'm eating them.
And the brick is fucking pristine now. Exactly like it was before we decided to shove our heads up our asses and stain the bricks in the first place. But see, if we never stained the brick, then I would've never rented THE WATER SHOTGUN, and if I hadn't rented THE WATER SHOTGUN, then I would have never realized the joy of blasting the shit out of things with 3000 psi of water, and then every man on that transport would've died because Harry Bailey wasn't there to save them, because I wasn't there to save Harry, and can't you see George, you've really had a wonderful life. Don't you see what a mistake it would be to just throw it away?
Wait... where was I? Oh yeah... Attaboy, Clarence!