July 06, 2011

Hot Bottoms

So I was sorting through paint chips the other day and remembered an idiotic painting incident buried deep in the recesses of my memory. And since there's already a "Jacoba's a nerd" bonfire lit and thoroughly aflame within this blog, I may as well recount it.

It's 2003 and I'm super pumped to paint the very first room in our very first house. While I've never painted even a patch of wall in my life, I've painted plenty of canvases, and like the true dork that I am, I'm already armed with info from several YouTube painting demonstrations. I mean, how poorly can I botch this job? The carpet is covered, the trim is taped off, and my roller brush is even vacuumed (thank you, Home Depot paint guy). I open the paint can, pick it up to fill my pan...

...and then I somehow manage to pour almost a third of the oil-based primer all over my leg. No idea. Don't ask.

So I strip off my pants, managing to smear and spread more paint over both legs and feet. Now that I've got wet paint feet, I'm kind of trapped in the room (although fashioning drop cloth booties did cross my mind for a brief moment). So, what the heck, may as well continue where I left off.

Not ten minutes later, it starts to rain, sending sheets of water through the open window. With no other option, I shut the window and continue painting. Ten minutes after that, Orange walks in the room and promptly sniffs the wall (that cat has both anger and drug issues) and leaves behind a whisker in the paint. I fish it out and turn around to find her sniffing the wall again, leaving more hair and whiskers behind. Annoyed, I push her out of the room and close the door. Like a true idiot. An idiot who minored in art and does oil paintings in her free time.

A while later, as I straighten myself to roll paint near the top of the wall, I'm suddenly hit by a wave of dizziness and a overwhelming urge to lie down. Four seconds later I'm sprawled on the floor outside the room, suddenly knowing I should probably call Rob, who's at a late customer meeting. And when I fail to feel or control my legs at all, even to crawl to the phone, I start thinking that maybe, just maybe I should call 911.

And then I look down and remember I'm in my underwear and a short t-shirt. And not just any underwear. No. A pair of underwear I got in my stocking from my mom. I know. It's a weird tradition. But that's beside the point. And I could probably have stomached facing the EMT workers in granny panties. These, however, had "HOT BOTTOMS" written on them. About 83 times. In a large font. I'm fairly certain there were multiple neon colors. And there may or may not have been glitter involved.

Had I really had a hot bottom, this may have been funny in a cute and sexy way. But...no. (Let me refer you here to Rob Folds Laundry, point #2.) So to my whacked-out mind, my life took the backseat. I mean, what was really important here was making sure NO ONE walked in on me in Hot Bottoms underwear.

After panic, much sweat, and a desperate army crawl down the hallway, I manage to snag the phone, only to find Rob not answering. So I call my parents...who live across Lake Michigan...so obviously in a super position to be really helpful in this scenario...and get my dad. Who 0.2 seconds into the conversation (which may or may not have included some drool) figured out I was high and told me to hang up and call Poison Control.

Poison Control lady: You'll probably be fine as long as you don't pass out.
Me: Ummmmmmmmm, sooo howww will I knoo-ow if I passssssssss outt?
Her: Good point.
Me [after a pause]: I thinnnk I'mm still cooonnscious.
Her: And I was just complaining to a coworker that things were boring tonight. So, I guess you'll have to talk to me until your husband gets home. Anything you want to talk about?

And what followed was the greatest drunk dial of all times - I had a completely captive (if slightly unwilling) audience.

Well, I lived. Rob returned to find his wife, underwear-clad and primered, on the floor of the kitchen jabbering away at her new best friend, Poison Control Lady. Not one of my finer, refined moments...not that I have many of those anyways. Sigh.


Jeannie said...

So, I came to your post on why friends with kids don't have time (hilarious) via Facebook that a friend (maybe one we have in common?) shared and stopped to read this story. I laughed out loud!! Seems you have many gems to sift through. I will be returning, for sure. :)

cobandrob said...

You may be severely underwhelmed by these so-called "gems"... bahahaha! But I'm glad you laughed. :) Jacoba