My Robot Is Pregnant theme song!

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back to creating lies this week. The economy must be recovering. Or maybe they figured out a better lie.

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Why make all the lines white? I honestly couldn’t figure this one out.

photo posted from my iPhone

Went out to the country to see Rusty yesterday. Big hay delivery and wood’s blocked up and seasoning. Got a bucket for a Massey Ferguson out there with a for sale sign on it. In the desert you sell shade, there’s always a market where ever you go.

I sat down at the folding table inside Rusty’s office, he draped a blue terrycloth towel over it years ago as a table cloth. Never once washed it since. The nap is beaten down and gives my forearms the impression they’ve stuck to it, but they haven’t. He needs some bills written out, and there on the notebook of blank invoices and the matching duplicates, white yellow white yellow, are a pair of tweezers, nail clippers and a dental tool you pick up in a little box by the register at the hardware store.

Normally I find used Q-tips while doing his billing. I’ll move a pile of receipts and I gag slightly when the crudded up thing appears, both ends black with general grime and a chunk of burnt orange wax dangling off.

“Rus!” I yell. He does a shuffling laugh and picks it up, then puts it back in his ear and twiddles it around while he thinks about numbers or the address of the next bill.

This time the stainless steel tools are right on top and he says, “Let me move those for you. I had a couple ah’ dingle berries I was trying to get out,” as he scoops them up and walks back into his quarters.

I snap on the desk lamp and adjust the folding chair. It ain’t easy gettin’ old.

Most of this was painted with a roller. The black outlines were done with a small brush. Sophia helped.
This is taking forever. Got most of the outlines done today. Took six hours. At the paint store they sold me on the new style of roller for paint. Used to be everyone used the 9 inch long deals that were big around as a roll of electrical tape. Or three hot dogs tied together. Or the same diameter as the fat end of a wiffle ball bat.

This is the old style of paint roller. Notice the amount of infrastructure required to house the nap itself.

Now, witness evolution. They have become thinner than a single hot dog. Sean even calls them hot dog rollers, maybe because they are about the same length, although a little less thick, and probably healthier to eat. It makes sense, and perhaps Lyle the mathamagician can back this up, having a very thick-in-diameter paint roller doesn’t put the paint on faster or thicker than a thinner diameter roller. It just costs more in material to manufacture and ship, and takes more display space on store shelves.

The new roller is a single piece of metal.

So our generation gets to witness an advance in paint application, and who among us has taken a minute to really appreciate that? Is this the only blog to note it? Are you gonna say no one cares? I don’t believe that. It affects us all, all of us who live in homes with crummy outdated color schemes in our bedrooms, any of us who have to move out at the end of the month and need to touch up some walls to get the security deposit back. Paint is like the glue that holds pictures in photo albums, but your house isn’t an album, unless you think of rooms as pages, in which case, the glue is actually paint because you hang pictures on the wall, and that wall has been painted.

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If this wood tied around my truck works again tonite, I’ll get my name up tomorrow morning.

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needs at least one more coat of white, then I do the lettering. It looks weird now but as Sean taught me, when I put in the outlines it all comes together.

The plan for tonite is to lean plywood against the truck and tie a giant lasso around it so they don’t bomb it.

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If the fuckin assholes will stay in bed tonite I’ll get to put my name up there tomorrow in a big white cloud instead of painting over their dumb shit. I’d try to stay up and watch it but I sleep through anything.

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I felt bad for my neighbors so I called Earl Scheib. 900 bucks to paint this thing white. Only to be tagged again. So I went to the paint store and spent $190 on metal exterior paint. First I sand it, then prime it, then two coats of blue. Then I’ll put my name in a big white cloud. I had an extra 20 hours to spend, why not save some money?

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I’m slowly repairing a kitchenette set I bought for $50 bucks. Lots of parts need glue and clamping. It all needs a polish. Some will need repainting. I’ll keep you posted and see if I can sell it for more than I paid once it’s done.

photo posted from my iPhone
I’m sick of Internet connection problems. How come I receive signals from down the street but not in the damn hallway?

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We had a sidewalk sale in front of Dougs the other day. As you can see in the background I’ve given up cleaning graffiti off my truck.

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Here it is, the 6th Playhouse Sean’s built this year. I’m real proud of him. He builds them all by himself, with cool features like Dutch doors and a little gutter in the back.

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that’s what it looks like from a distance. Sean hired me to help him paint a playhouse he built for a couple in Ross. We kept passing this truck on the way home.

photo posted from my iPhone

2 ladies stopped by to tell me about the peaceful new world that’s coming. I had the stereo on in the living room and still it was hard to hear them they were so softspoken as they stood shoulder to shoulder facing me in the doorway. I had a drill in my hand, the 18 volt lithium ion battery operated one that has an impact driver. I was putting a bolt in the wall to hang a rams head off of. They rang the bell and I heard it only because I was in between impacting.

“In the year three thousand the earth will be healed from the damage humankind has acted upon it.”

“Hacked upon it?” I asked.

“Acted upon it. What we’ve done to it is has hurt it, but in a thousand years time this earlthly pollution we be removed and once again rivers and oceans will be pure, the climate will be back in balance…”

“Can I turn down the stereo? I can’t hear what you’re saying.”

“Of course.”

I went into the living room and set down the drill, turned off the stereo and put my t shirt back on. It had Redd Foxx’s face on it and said, “You big dummy”. That was one of his lines from Sanford and Son. The two women at the door seemed a little too young to know a 70′s sitcom first hand. Plus they were wearing ankle length blue skirts and white shirts with blue blazers. They didn’t seem like TV watchers to me. But you never know. That they were at my door meant they believed religion could find someone at any age, any step of the way. If they thought talking to me would be enough to change me, then perhaps they had come from equally modern life.

Perhaps the taller one on the left had come from a rich cattle heritage in the Midwest. She grew up eating beef 7 nights a week and grew tall and healthy. Every luxury was hers, as a spoiled only child in the bleak suburbs of flat heartland America she had an Olympic swimming pool in the backyard, horses in a stable, a sweet 16 pink Ford Mustang in the garage.

Now she was walking around my neighborhood in the perpetual fog and treeless sidewalks placed over former sand dunes. Her friend, (Maybe they weren’t friends. Maybe they hated each other! Forced to go door to door presenting a sneak peek at the peaceful new world that’s coming but actually hating how the other one looked, or that she wheezed going up hills, or made her knock all the time because her knuckles hurt.) her friend was possibly cuter, if only because she was shorter and hadn’t had her features stretched out.

They seemed like calm people. The relief that the earth would make it through had settled over them and they weren’t the type to freak out if you didn’t put a soda can in the recycle bin. They had the inner peace that comes from advance knowledge. In several hundred years we wouldn’t be buying tvs packed in non biodegradable styrofoam. That whole guilt trip would be gone. They probably didn’t even get disgruntled when mail came and there was that unnecessary plastic window over the address. The earth would be alright regardless.

I had my shirt on, pulled down all the way and straight and was back at the door.

“Wow. That is such good news. I want to thank you. Because I have been a little bummed lately, but now I realize I will shortly turn into an eagle and fly out over a field and any mouse I swoop upon and catch in my talons will not be a mouse that has nibbled on cast off Vanilla Coke 16 ouncers.”

At this point I took my t shirt back off because my wings were jammed up by it. I kicked out my legs and caught each woman’s face in my long claws and flew out and up into the sky with their arms holding onto the scaly part where the feathers recede and become eagle feet, and their legs kicked at the air as I flew higher up towards the sun.