Oh my dear readers, I hope you don't think that I've left you hanging. Today was an incredible day to find and begin new projects. I have six of them to show you! I have so much to share, and I will do that.... soon. At the moment, thanks to those six projects, my back feels much like how I imagine Quasimodo's did. Also, my little surgeon style paint mask did not stop my nostrils from inhaling as much spray paint as humanly possible. I suppose I'll have to resort to buying one of those Apocalypse looking gas mask contraptions. I'll take some nice, deep breaths of oxygen, and post more in the coming days!
How was your Saturday?
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
El Table de Chevron
This project happened on a Thursday. I work from home, which sometimes drives me stark, raving mad. I was having a particularly busy and frustrating day, so by 4pm.... I was DONE. By done, I mean DOOOOOONE. I could not stare at the computer screen any longer.
Later that evening, my roommate and I were expecting company for dinner, although, at this time we didn't yet have a dinner table. Thankfully, our friends are willing to sit on kitchen counters. I could have gotten dressed up for them. I could have. Instead, I put on my number 5 (a term we used in the community service group I traveled with for almost 2 years for the worst clothes you own... the kind you don't mind ruining with paint, sweat and whatever other gross things come your way). To give you a description... I was wearing a hoodie I found a few years ago in a lost and found bin where I worked. The hood was so tight I assume it originally fit a girl with a toothpick for a neck, so I ripped that sucker. The pants were a pair of tights I used for dancing in the show I was a part of with the community service group. One day, while on tour, I was too tired to do laundry, so I wore my dance tights to a service project where we painted a house. They became painting clothes after that. My hair, as usual (because I'm a tomboy who doesn't like to blow dry) was in a frizzy bun on top of my head. I'm not sure why I felt the need to describe my clothing, but there you go. As my roommate would say, I looked like an orphan.
I have these two tables in the living room that have traveled with me across states, and I can't bear to get rid of them. I'm not even sure why I love them.... probably because they were free. I can't pass up a good deal. FREE?! Yes. Free. I literally pulled them out of the dumpster when I was working for Bath and Body Works about seven years ago. There was also a ridiculously cute hutch, but there's no way I could have gotten that sucker into the Ford Focus (thanks to the 2 transmissions I had replaced, it was also known as, "THE WORST CAR EVER.") The tables had been taking up residence in my little brother's room at my mom's house for the last couple of years. I'm surprised they weren't dented/burned/demolished/broken/smooshed/slammed/stained. He is 17, after all... that's all that 17 year old boys know how to do....destroy things. When I moved into this new house, I immediately confiscated the tables, like a thief in the night....along with my stool (from the baby sister) and desk. Sorry kids, get your own furniture! :P
The tables are an ugly beige color. See below.
I forgot to take a before picture of the little table, and now that I think of it.... I forgot to take an after... so that'll have to come another day... It's a story in itself, anyway.
This time around, I was a smart girl, and bought myself a mask from Home Depot, along with Kilz primer (thought I'd give it a whirl), and some Rustoleum Heirloom White (apparently, in the blog world, Rustoleum is the new pink).... I was on the fence about if I wanted it to be white and aqua (because I'm Aqua Obsessed) or if I should use a darker blue (as seen on the ugly owl here). My roommate decided aqua (Krylon's Ocean Breeze), so I obliged.
Because I've spent the better part of a month drooling over Twice Lovely's Chevron Dresser, I knew it was time to try my hand at it. Because I'm impatient, I decided to eyeball the pattern with painter's tape. It took awhile, but it was good mind-numbing fun. I think it turned out pretty well. I wanted it to have a non-chalant, hand-painted attitude.
I then went for the aqua, while my poor friend, Anthony, watched and told me his latest girl stories. At this point, everyone was at our house, but I was determined to finish this project, dinner party or not. Worst hostess ever, right?
I do need to take some better photos of it in the house. The lighting here just makes it look dirty. It really is adorable and brings some funk into our living room.
Update: I couldn't stand looking at those gloomy pictures, but my awesome camera is dead. These iPhone pics are going to have to suffice:
Later that evening, my roommate and I were expecting company for dinner, although, at this time we didn't yet have a dinner table. Thankfully, our friends are willing to sit on kitchen counters. I could have gotten dressed up for them. I could have. Instead, I put on my number 5 (a term we used in the community service group I traveled with for almost 2 years for the worst clothes you own... the kind you don't mind ruining with paint, sweat and whatever other gross things come your way). To give you a description... I was wearing a hoodie I found a few years ago in a lost and found bin where I worked. The hood was so tight I assume it originally fit a girl with a toothpick for a neck, so I ripped that sucker. The pants were a pair of tights I used for dancing in the show I was a part of with the community service group. One day, while on tour, I was too tired to do laundry, so I wore my dance tights to a service project where we painted a house. They became painting clothes after that. My hair, as usual (because I'm a tomboy who doesn't like to blow dry) was in a frizzy bun on top of my head. I'm not sure why I felt the need to describe my clothing, but there you go. As my roommate would say, I looked like an orphan.
I have these two tables in the living room that have traveled with me across states, and I can't bear to get rid of them. I'm not even sure why I love them.... probably because they were free. I can't pass up a good deal. FREE?! Yes. Free. I literally pulled them out of the dumpster when I was working for Bath and Body Works about seven years ago. There was also a ridiculously cute hutch, but there's no way I could have gotten that sucker into the Ford Focus (thanks to the 2 transmissions I had replaced, it was also known as, "THE WORST CAR EVER.") The tables had been taking up residence in my little brother's room at my mom's house for the last couple of years. I'm surprised they weren't dented/burned/demolished/broken/smooshed/slammed/stained. He is 17, after all... that's all that 17 year old boys know how to do....destroy things. When I moved into this new house, I immediately confiscated the tables, like a thief in the night....along with my stool (from the baby sister) and desk. Sorry kids, get your own furniture! :P
The tables are an ugly beige color. See below.
 |
| Ugly, and you ain't got no alibi. |
I forgot to take a before picture of the little table, and now that I think of it.... I forgot to take an after... so that'll have to come another day... It's a story in itself, anyway.
This time around, I was a smart girl, and bought myself a mask from Home Depot, along with Kilz primer (thought I'd give it a whirl), and some Rustoleum Heirloom White (apparently, in the blog world, Rustoleum is the new pink).... I was on the fence about if I wanted it to be white and aqua (because I'm Aqua Obsessed) or if I should use a darker blue (as seen on the ugly owl here). My roommate decided aqua (Krylon's Ocean Breeze), so I obliged.
Because I've spent the better part of a month drooling over Twice Lovely's Chevron Dresser, I knew it was time to try my hand at it. Because I'm impatient, I decided to eyeball the pattern with painter's tape. It took awhile, but it was good mind-numbing fun. I think it turned out pretty well. I wanted it to have a non-chalant, hand-painted attitude.
 |
| Look into the table, you're getting sleeeeepier.... |
Taking my lead from All Things Thrifty's Glazing Tutorial, I knew that it was time to glaze away. Glazing is interesting. I had no idea if I was doing it correctly. You basically put on a bunch of tinted paint, try to get it in all of the nooks and crannies, and then, in my case, take an old ratty t-shirt to wipe it off. You can adjust the amount of glaze you slop on, and adjust how many coats of glaze, to give it a different look. It took a little trial and error. (Probably more error.) I put on several coats of glaze until I really felt like it was staying on the table, rather than completely wiping off. I do think it'd be easier to glaze if the piece had been more aged, carved or even somewhat less smooth than a baby's butt. Regardless, I really love how the piece turned out. I did later decide to attempt some sanding to give it a more aged, beachy look. I wish I had thought to do it before glazing, as I think that would have looked better.
Check her out... what do you think?
 |
| Hey, girl, hey! |
 |
| I heart you, aqua chevron table. |
Update: I couldn't stand looking at those gloomy pictures, but my awesome camera is dead. These iPhone pics are going to have to suffice:
 |
| My grandmother hacked up my Hyacinth plant because, apparently, I was killing it. EEK. |
Linking this baby up here:
- Furniture Feature Friday
- Centsational Girl
- Transformation Thursday
- Frugal Friday
- Bass Giraffe
- Fab Friends Thursday
- Keepin' Company Thursday
- Stumble Through Thursday
- Terrific Thursday Blog Hop
- Thirsty for Comments Thursday
- Thrifty Thursday
- Thrilling Thursday
- Traveling Through Thursday
- Show and Tell Friday
- Social Parade Follow
- Remodelaholic Friday
- Boost my Blog Friday
- Weekend Blog Hop
- Buzz on By Thursday
- Best DIY Project of April
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
"Look, I even colored eggs for you!"
You may be wondering how I got to be so quirky. You may not care at all, which is cool too.
You should know, my grandmother, who wanted you to know that I'm a loving individual and NOT a cynic (as mentioned on the right side of the blog), made me this way.
The day before Easter, she calls me to tell me that she's on her way to my house. "I have some Easter things to give you, and I even colored eggs for you!" In my head, I laughed a little at the idea of my grandma at home in her kitchen playing with egg dye. When she showed up with my Easter basket, it was full of TREASURES.
Behold:
Let's take a moment to break this bad boy down.
The items in the basket include:
1. A can of Green Chili (a staple in New Mexico. We kick you out of the state if you don't like it.)
2. Easter-y socks. I should mention that they were child-size socks. Thankfully, I have child-sized feet.
3. Lifesaver Jelly Beans, DE-LICIOUS. Later in the day, my mom literally tackled me to get me to stop eating them. She's like the fat/sugar police. I did not relinquish said jellybeans.
4. Four bunny Peeps, in a sandwich bag. My grandmother loves her sandwich bags.
5. Behind the Peeps, unable to be seen, is one of those AM/FM mini-radios you receive from participating in things like..... Publisher's Clearing House. I'm almost certain that's where she got it.........in 1985.
6. Next up, a Triple A card..... with her name on it.
7. A sleep mask. The sleep mask I gave her two weeks ago when she was incredibly sick. I asked her if she washed it since she had been sick. She did not.
8. A garlic jar full of Sour Patch Kids. The jar stills smells strongly of garlic. The Sour Patch kids taste as if they've been garlic-infused. Not delicious.
9. The red box contains some gorgeous silver necklaces of hers, that she's giving me. Love. Love. Love. This is the part of the basket that screams, "I am not a cynic, I'm a loving individual who cares about people."
10. Last, but absolutely not least..... the "colored" eggs. Let's take a closer look, shall we?
That's right. She "colored" them with Post It Tabs. If I hadn't understood that, she wrote the color as well. It probably took her a good 30 minutes to do this, as its become difficult for her to write (usually once her hand starts moving, it doesn't stop and she twirls off of the page).
This, amongst many reasons, is why I love my grandmother. No one else on Earth got an Easter basket like this one.
Now I'm off to enjoy some Sour Patch Kids. First, they're sour. Then, they're sweet. Then, they're garlic-y?
You should know, my grandmother, who wanted you to know that I'm a loving individual and NOT a cynic (as mentioned on the right side of the blog), made me this way.
The day before Easter, she calls me to tell me that she's on her way to my house. "I have some Easter things to give you, and I even colored eggs for you!" In my head, I laughed a little at the idea of my grandma at home in her kitchen playing with egg dye. When she showed up with my Easter basket, it was full of TREASURES.
Behold:
 |
| Best Easter basket, ever. |
Let's take a moment to break this bad boy down.
The items in the basket include:
1. A can of Green Chili (a staple in New Mexico. We kick you out of the state if you don't like it.)
2. Easter-y socks. I should mention that they were child-size socks. Thankfully, I have child-sized feet.
3. Lifesaver Jelly Beans, DE-LICIOUS. Later in the day, my mom literally tackled me to get me to stop eating them. She's like the fat/sugar police. I did not relinquish said jellybeans.
4. Four bunny Peeps, in a sandwich bag. My grandmother loves her sandwich bags.
5. Behind the Peeps, unable to be seen, is one of those AM/FM mini-radios you receive from participating in things like..... Publisher's Clearing House. I'm almost certain that's where she got it.........in 1985.
6. Next up, a Triple A card..... with her name on it.
7. A sleep mask. The sleep mask I gave her two weeks ago when she was incredibly sick. I asked her if she washed it since she had been sick. She did not.
8. A garlic jar full of Sour Patch Kids. The jar stills smells strongly of garlic. The Sour Patch kids taste as if they've been garlic-infused. Not delicious.
9. The red box contains some gorgeous silver necklaces of hers, that she's giving me. Love. Love. Love. This is the part of the basket that screams, "I am not a cynic, I'm a loving individual who cares about people."
10. Last, but absolutely not least..... the "colored" eggs. Let's take a closer look, shall we?
That's right. She "colored" them with Post It Tabs. If I hadn't understood that, she wrote the color as well. It probably took her a good 30 minutes to do this, as its become difficult for her to write (usually once her hand starts moving, it doesn't stop and she twirls off of the page).
This, amongst many reasons, is why I love my grandmother. No one else on Earth got an Easter basket like this one.
Now I'm off to enjoy some Sour Patch Kids. First, they're sour. Then, they're sweet. Then, they're garlic-y?
Sunday, April 24, 2011
What's a Chevron?
So sometimes I feel like I'm giving myself a crash course in home decor trends and furniture restyling via the blogosphere. I wish I could say that I knew anything about any of this before now, but I'd be a big, fat liar. I read blogs, stroke my chin and say things like, "Ah yes, that's a lovely damask pattern on her valances." Then, I snap out of my trance and wonder where I am.
I've collected quite a long list of home/decor/furniture painting/glazing/crafts/vintage stuff/everything in between blogs on my Safari toolbar. So many that I've started organizing them into folders. This is how I learned the term, "Chevron." Chevron, to me, is a gas station. I'm still trying to figure out what the gas station across from my grandmother's house has to do with fabric patterns. I'm sure, someday, via the Inter-web-net Information Highway, all will be revealed. In the mean time, I'm jumping on the "OMG CHEVRON IS WAY CUTE" bandwagon.
For those who still have no idea what I'm talking about... Chevron, is a fancy way of saying "zig zag." Whenever a simple idea is replaced with an SAT-style word, it reminds me of my Film Theory classes in college. I was a total film geek, but not a film theory geek. Film Theory kids say things like, "I believe the red lighting of the fern alluded to the protagonist, who was a self-loathing misanthrope representing an anthropomorphic realization of the true nature of humanity, much like an Afro-Japanese electro-jazz song," rather than saying, "I really liked Mariah Carey in Glitter." When they would start throwing out words they could neither spell nor define, I would have minor rage blackouts and stare at them with disgust. Thus, my changed major.
I was beginning to see how adorable Chevron patterns were being used on curtains, throw pillows and rugs... until the heavens opened up... and a light shone down upon:
Be still, my heart. Look, I'm a practical kind of girl. I'm not sure I believe in love at first sight.... but I adore this dresser. Something about the colors, the pattern, whatever.... I'm in love. If I had the means and time, I would drive to Phoenix and buy this from her. Because I have a job, and I'm pretty sure this wouldn't fit in my sweet Corolla, I decided to make something of my own.
Tomorrow, or possible the day after, I will reveal my own Chevron adventure, inspired by Twice Lovely.
BEHOLD:
The..
Aqua...
Chevron...
side...
table.
I've collected quite a long list of home/decor/furniture painting/glazing/crafts/vintage stuff/everything in between blogs on my Safari toolbar. So many that I've started organizing them into folders. This is how I learned the term, "Chevron." Chevron, to me, is a gas station. I'm still trying to figure out what the gas station across from my grandmother's house has to do with fabric patterns. I'm sure, someday, via the Inter-web-net Information Highway, all will be revealed. In the mean time, I'm jumping on the "OMG CHEVRON IS WAY CUTE" bandwagon.
For those who still have no idea what I'm talking about... Chevron, is a fancy way of saying "zig zag." Whenever a simple idea is replaced with an SAT-style word, it reminds me of my Film Theory classes in college. I was a total film geek, but not a film theory geek. Film Theory kids say things like, "I believe the red lighting of the fern alluded to the protagonist, who was a self-loathing misanthrope representing an anthropomorphic realization of the true nature of humanity, much like an Afro-Japanese electro-jazz song," rather than saying, "I really liked Mariah Carey in Glitter." When they would start throwing out words they could neither spell nor define, I would have minor rage blackouts and stare at them with disgust. Thus, my changed major.
I was beginning to see how adorable Chevron patterns were being used on curtains, throw pillows and rugs... until the heavens opened up... and a light shone down upon:
 |
| This beautiful hunk of burning love from Twice Lovely. |
Be still, my heart. Look, I'm a practical kind of girl. I'm not sure I believe in love at first sight.... but I adore this dresser. Something about the colors, the pattern, whatever.... I'm in love. If I had the means and time, I would drive to Phoenix and buy this from her. Because I have a job, and I'm pretty sure this wouldn't fit in my sweet Corolla, I decided to make something of my own.
Tomorrow, or possible the day after, I will reveal my own Chevron adventure, inspired by Twice Lovely.
BEHOLD:
The..
Aqua...
Chevron...
side...
table.
Friday, April 22, 2011
The things I could do without this week.....
The following is a list of things that I could do without, this week:
1. 
Ink Mouth - Look. Generally I love my Pilot Pens. Pilot Pens are the only pens I use. I draw my crazy artwork with them. I write and rewrite notes with them. I have shown so much love to these pens, that I did not understand why one of them decided to fight me back during the middle of an important meeting this week. Why did this pen choose to start leaking from the top while I had it in my mouth? Why did this happen in front of my boss and my client? My boss who only comes into town once a month, and my client who is a natural skeptic of everything... Bam. Black ink. On. Your. Mouth. Ugh, Pilot Pens. Thanks for making me look like one of the chicks from The Craft. You owe me.
2. "Not to be a jerk but...." What is the point of starting a sentence with this phrase, and then immediately saying something jerk-like, jerk-ish, jerk-y? JERK.
3. The smell coming from my dog. So I'm trying to find the least vulgar way to say this. I feed my dog the same food, every day. I feed her the same amount of food, every day. Why then, today, does she smell like something has infected her bowels? One can only hope that it's because she ate the neighbors' cat.
4. The sinus headache I had on Tuesday. I felt like someone hit me in the face with a shovel. Pleasant.
5. Cottonwood trees - If you're not blessed enough to live in an area with these trees (planted by Satan himself), let me give you an idea of what they're like. Generally, they're beautiful. Tall, strong trees. They tend to be close to the river (the Rio Grande, in my case). They're rightfully named the Cottonwood because they produce TUFTS OF COTTON. 
This is where my love affair with Cottonwoods ends. New Mexico is plagued with extreme winds during Spring. Wind + Cotton = MISERY. These cotton balls FLY through the air, and wage war on your nostrils. These cotton balls trick your eyeballs into thinking it is SNOWING. When the winds kick up, they twirl around in little cotton tornadoes. When you're sitting at a cafe on the patio, they jump and flip and whirl into your food. Currently, the cotton has settled in the little alcove to my front door. Part of me wants to kick them, and the other part wants to knit a disgusting cottonwood blanket to smother the people who start sentences with, "Not to be a jerk but...."
6. The growly chick from American Idol. Hayley. Haley. Hailey. Whatever spelling she uses. Now, don't get me wrong. I LOVE THE BLUES. Blues and R&B are two of my absolute favorite genres of music. But, last I checked, annoying growling does not fall into either category. No matter what anyone says, she absolutely BUTCHERED Adele's "Rolling in the Deep." I cannot forgive her for that. Please go home. Immediately. Do not pass go or collect $200. Send Pia back. Thanks in advance, Growly McGrowlerson.
Aside from those 6, it's been a good week. How you doin'?
1. Ink Mouth - Look. Generally I love my Pilot Pens. Pilot Pens are the only pens I use. I draw my crazy artwork with them. I write and rewrite notes with them. I have shown so much love to these pens, that I did not understand why one of them decided to fight me back during the middle of an important meeting this week. Why did this pen choose to start leaking from the top while I had it in my mouth? Why did this happen in front of my boss and my client? My boss who only comes into town once a month, and my client who is a natural skeptic of everything... Bam. Black ink. On. Your. Mouth. Ugh, Pilot Pens. Thanks for making me look like one of the chicks from The Craft. You owe me. 2. "Not to be a jerk but...." What is the point of starting a sentence with this phrase, and then immediately saying something jerk-like, jerk-ish, jerk-y? JERK.3. The smell coming from my dog. So I'm trying to find the least vulgar way to say this. I feed my dog the same food, every day. I feed her the same amount of food, every day. Why then, today, does she smell like something has infected her bowels? One can only hope that it's because she ate the neighbors' cat.4. The sinus headache I had on Tuesday. I felt like someone hit me in the face with a shovel. Pleasant.
5. Cottonwood trees - If you're not blessed enough to live in an area with these trees (planted by Satan himself), let me give you an idea of what they're like. Generally, they're beautiful. Tall, strong trees. They tend to be close to the river (the Rio Grande, in my case). They're rightfully named the Cottonwood because they produce TUFTS OF COTTON. This is where my love affair with Cottonwoods ends. New Mexico is plagued with extreme winds during Spring. Wind + Cotton = MISERY. These cotton balls FLY through the air, and wage war on your nostrils. These cotton balls trick your eyeballs into thinking it is SNOWING. When the winds kick up, they twirl around in little cotton tornadoes. When you're sitting at a cafe on the patio, they jump and flip and whirl into your food. Currently, the cotton has settled in the little alcove to my front door. Part of me wants to kick them, and the other part wants to knit a disgusting cottonwood blanket to smother the people who start sentences with, "Not to be a jerk but...."6. The growly chick from American Idol. Hayley. Haley. Hailey. Whatever spelling she uses. Now, don't get me wrong. I LOVE THE BLUES. Blues and R&B are two of my absolute favorite genres of music. But, last I checked, annoying growling does not fall into either category. No matter what anyone says, she absolutely BUTCHERED Adele's "Rolling in the Deep." I cannot forgive her for that. Please go home. Immediately. Do not pass go or collect $200. Send Pia back. Thanks in advance, Growly McGrowlerson.
Aside from those 6, it's been a good week. How you doin'?
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Inspirational Sarcasm
I always wondered if there was someone out there who thought the way I did. My inner monologue is beyond sarcastic. Half of the time, I figure if I put it on paper, people will think I'm a huge jerk. I now know that there is someone who thinks the way I do.....
Just got back from seeing David Sedaris live. He was absolutely amazing. I was laughing hysterically.... crying actual tears. He has inspired me, not only to continue writing on a regular basis, but to stay true to my own sarcastic, cynical self.
Get these, RIGHT NOW....
Wait... THE BOOK OF LIZ?!@#! He even wrote a play about me. Amazing.
Just got back from seeing David Sedaris live. He was absolutely amazing. I was laughing hysterically.... crying actual tears. He has inspired me, not only to continue writing on a regular basis, but to stay true to my own sarcastic, cynical self.
Get these, RIGHT NOW....
Wait... THE BOOK OF LIZ?!@#! He even wrote a play about me. Amazing.
Aqua Obsession
I have an obsession with aqua lately. I'm surrounded by such intense colors in my room (red, black and white) that I felt the need to put something fun and colorful in there. Hence, aqua obsession. I'm slowly, but surely adding in bright aqua pieces.I saw this Krylon Ocean Breeze at Walmart, and said, "She will be mine. Oh yes, she will be mine." Not really. Although, I do quote Wayne's World a lot. Who can pass up a good, "psycho hose-beast?" I digress. This was the exact color I wanted to introduce to my room. Room meet Ocean Breeze. Ocean Breeze meet Room.
Problem was, I didn't have anything to make aqua. |
| Ew. You's ugly. |
Cue Flea Market Collectibles & Things, where I found a super gaudy, gold mirror. To anyone with spray paint, a gross, old mirror like this is a freaking jackpot find. Don't believe me? Check any of the blogs I read, they all want this crap. I have caved to blog peer pressure, and I wanted it too. So I got it, for a decent price. My mom looked at me like, "Seriously?" Yes, mother, seriously. My lovely grandmother would have kept it in this gold color, and it would match the other 231298274 gold frames and mirrors in her house. She knows how to make gold work. It works for her. Not my style. Homie don't play dat. Just like my aversion to browns, I have an aversion to golds. They assault my eyes and my general sense of happiness.
 |
| Apparently, that box was from a drugstore. |
The thing that actually made me semi-freak out was that I clearly didn't do a great job taping the cardboard to the mirror, because little aqua particles were ALL over the mirror when I took them off. I had no idea if it would come off, or if I was doomed to look through grains of paint for eternity. Thankfully it scraped off.... albeit not easily. I spent a while scraping it off, and really didn't do a great job cleaning it before putting it on my wall. Someday, when I care enough, or get sick of the smears, I'll actually clean it. For now, it brings the right shade of aqua into the corner of the gigantor master bedroom. Good job, me! (Stay tuned, I might get nuts with some glaze to make it look more aged and antique-y.
 |
| Hey baby, lookin' good. |
Next up, an aqua gun rack. "A gun rack? What am I gonna do with a gun rack? I don't even own A gun, let alone many to necessitate an entire rack? What am I gonna do with a gun rack?" Oh Wayne, you slay me.
Monday, April 18, 2011
How I gave myself carbon monoxide poisoning....AKA the Shutter Headboard Adventure
So I've found this store across town that has become my new heaven: Flea Market Things & Collectibles. I stumbled upon it while trying to find the Habitat for Humanity ReStore. Best accidental discovery, EVER. It's basically an indoor flea market without a bunch of people hassling you. You can just shop through the different sections and pay for them at the front.
I found a ton of things that I scooped up, but this little story is about the ugly pink shutters I found. I imagine the ugly, pink shutters I found lived a depressing life as a teenager's abused closet doors. They were absolutely HIDEOUS. I'm talking hot pink, sticky, glossy paint with additional paint splatters all over the place. INTENTIONAL paint splatters. GLITTERY paint splatters. Awful. It was like those poor, pathetic shutter doors fought in a puff paint war, and were declared a casualty. So there they were, gaudy and horrible, sitting in what someone must have thought to be their final resting place. I saw them and had a vision. A moment of clarity.
I had been searching Craigslist and everywhere in between for a queen size headboard. I've never had a headboard on any bed. It's a sad affair, being so headboardless. As I just moved into a new house, with a GIANT master bedroom, I knew it was time. Even my old vintage furniture doesn't fill this monstrosity of a room. (I know, I know... wah wah wah you have a big room.) I just don't have enough to fill this space. I did a little feng shui-ing (not really, I just moved things around til the room didn't look so ridiculously big)... and knew that I needed to do something big to make a statement in this room.
I had no desire to even attempt to strip the paint from these.... Too much work, and let's be honest, I'm still learning. I covered both sides with some Krylon Gray Primer, which took for-freaking-ever. I realized that I also had no desire to paint the back of the shutters since no one was ever going to see them if they were against the wall. The least amount of work sounded great to me.
Next up, layer upon layer of Krylon Flat Black Spray Paint. Thankfully, black is great for covering up imperfections (just ask any bloated woman). Although you can still see the drips of paint from the previous, bad paint job... I figure no one will be looking that closely... and if they do and actually say something, I'll smack them.
So here's the ridiculous part of this adventure. I did all of this in my garage, with the garage door wide open. There was a nice breeze flowing through the garage. Silly ol' me didn't bother to wear a mask of any sort. Silly ol' me has had pneumonia in the last couple of years. Because there's nothing that says "spray paint without a mask" like respiratory problems. My friend, Ian, even said something about the fact that I shouldn't inhale all of those chemicals, which I brushed off nonchalantly. Worst plan ever.
So later that night, I looked in the mirror and noticed that I was a lovely shade of bright pink. I'm talking... princess pink. I had been hiking in the mountains earlier that day so I figured I had a nice, little sunburn. Usually when I'm sunburned, my skin feels hot to the touch.... this was different. I was just.... PINK. I ignored it, thinking I was being silly...until later that night when I was having a conversation with my roommate and suddenly became VERY dizzy... and immediately ran to my bathroom to throw up. This means a lot. I think that throwing up is the worst feeling on the planet, and will do anything to avoid doing it. I started thinking about all of my symptoms, and had a flash of an episode of CSI. I remembered an episode where the parents died of carbon monoxide poisoning, and when found were a lovely shade of bright pink. Yeah. After a little more self-diagnosis via the internet, I realized what was going on. I gave myself minor carbon monoxide poisoning. Ridic.
Moral of the story: Wear a mask, moron.
I found a ton of things that I scooped up, but this little story is about the ugly pink shutters I found. I imagine the ugly, pink shutters I found lived a depressing life as a teenager's abused closet doors. They were absolutely HIDEOUS. I'm talking hot pink, sticky, glossy paint with additional paint splatters all over the place. INTENTIONAL paint splatters. GLITTERY paint splatters. Awful. It was like those poor, pathetic shutter doors fought in a puff paint war, and were declared a casualty. So there they were, gaudy and horrible, sitting in what someone must have thought to be their final resting place. I saw them and had a vision. A moment of clarity.
 |
| Hello gorgeous! This picture really doesn't capture how awful this paint really was. |
I had been searching Craigslist and everywhere in between for a queen size headboard. I've never had a headboard on any bed. It's a sad affair, being so headboardless. As I just moved into a new house, with a GIANT master bedroom, I knew it was time. Even my old vintage furniture doesn't fill this monstrosity of a room. (I know, I know... wah wah wah you have a big room.) I just don't have enough to fill this space. I did a little feng shui-ing (not really, I just moved things around til the room didn't look so ridiculously big)... and knew that I needed to do something big to make a statement in this room.
I had no desire to even attempt to strip the paint from these.... Too much work, and let's be honest, I'm still learning. I covered both sides with some Krylon Gray Primer, which took for-freaking-ever. I realized that I also had no desire to paint the back of the shutters since no one was ever going to see them if they were against the wall. The least amount of work sounded great to me. |
| Primed and ready to go. |
Next up, layer upon layer of Krylon Flat Black Spray Paint. Thankfully, black is great for covering up imperfections (just ask any bloated woman). Although you can still see the drips of paint from the previous, bad paint job... I figure no one will be looking that closely... and if they do and actually say something, I'll smack them.
 |
| The final product. Yes, I probably could have made my bed. Clearly, I need to work on my staging for these big reveal pictures. Whatever. |
So here's the ridiculous part of this adventure. I did all of this in my garage, with the garage door wide open. There was a nice breeze flowing through the garage. Silly ol' me didn't bother to wear a mask of any sort. Silly ol' me has had pneumonia in the last couple of years. Because there's nothing that says "spray paint without a mask" like respiratory problems. My friend, Ian, even said something about the fact that I shouldn't inhale all of those chemicals, which I brushed off nonchalantly. Worst plan ever.
So later that night, I looked in the mirror and noticed that I was a lovely shade of bright pink. I'm talking... princess pink. I had been hiking in the mountains earlier that day so I figured I had a nice, little sunburn. Usually when I'm sunburned, my skin feels hot to the touch.... this was different. I was just.... PINK. I ignored it, thinking I was being silly...until later that night when I was having a conversation with my roommate and suddenly became VERY dizzy... and immediately ran to my bathroom to throw up. This means a lot. I think that throwing up is the worst feeling on the planet, and will do anything to avoid doing it. I started thinking about all of my symptoms, and had a flash of an episode of CSI. I remembered an episode where the parents died of carbon monoxide poisoning, and when found were a lovely shade of bright pink. Yeah. After a little more self-diagnosis via the internet, I realized what was going on. I gave myself minor carbon monoxide poisoning. Ridic.
Moral of the story: Wear a mask, moron.
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