No, I have not become Tom Sawyer. Won't you enjoy my knee-length cutoffs?
I know we have no money, but I am hoping we get caught up on our finances soon (today is invoice my clients day! Wooo!) (and I got a check from my blog ads today! Thanks, faithful readers!) so that I can buy cans of paint. Because you know what?
I am sick of the beige paint on my walls.
If there is anything I am not, I am not a beige-wall person. Have you met me? I am a 1950s wallpaper person. Give me huge florals, tropical prints, giant birds or gaudy magentas or something. But you know what else I am? Terrible at the visuals. Please see every photograph ever placed in this blog.
This is where you come in. So many of my faithful readers are good at the visuals. Why do you come here and torture yourselves, is what I want to know. George, why must you torture the children? The first person to name that line gets a special photograph of Francis wearing floral panties.
Attached please find photos of my living room and dining room, which are swathed in beige beige beige and also beige stripes. I included many angles of my rooms so you can see our furniture colors and also my unfinished proofreading that I really should be attending to right now instead of blogging about my walls. It is due a week from today. I have 100 pages left. A HUNDRED PAGES.
Okay, here we go.
Oh, dear. The pillow on my Gumby chair is sideways. And yes, those are 87 leashes on the doorknob. Tidy. I know The Nester would never have 87 leashes on her doorknob. And you are all going to tell me how that lei is going to catch fire on the lampshade. Blah blah blah. The WALLS. I need help with the WALLS.
Tallulah is so over being featured on this blog. ONE HUNDRED PAGES, folks. Calling out my name. Juuuune. Proofread us, June! You're out of money, June! If you proof us, you could actually paint, Juuuune! I do not know why my pages speak like a ghost.
Stripy dining room. If you hate the stripes please keep in mind they were painted by my neighbor Peg, who reads this blog. And yes, that is a painting of Mr. Horkheimer. My friend Stacy gave me that as a wedding present. Horkie. I love him so.
Look how depressed Talu looks. "Sick of beige, mom. Even though Talu kind of beige herself."
Okay, so I think I have shown you enough angles. Suggestions, please.
While I am up, you may recall I mentioned that I went to Target the other day, before I had negative seven dollars to my name, in search of my Shabby Chic bathroom cup. See, I had a lovely Shabby Chic bathroom cup, and I used it to clean my sexy night guard every night. I used equally sexy Polydent in my Shabby Chic cup, which matched my bathroom, and soaked said night guard while I was getting ready: taking my 47 medications, putting on my kabuki night products, etc.
I took said cup with me on the road to my Uncle Jim's funeral, because I do not want to make my mother loan me a cup to soak said disgusting night guard, then return it to her after. I mean, gross. But you know what I did? I LEFT my beautiful Shabby Chic cup in that horrifying motel that we stayed in on the way to my mother's. Oh, I was sad. And then when I went to Target, they did not have any Shabby Chic cups. I was fit to be tied. Not to mention they are apparently hiring toddlers at Target now. The person who waited on me had a sippy cup. She had never even HEARD of Shabby Chic.
As I was leaving, a managerial type had her over at the Shabby Chic sheets, and he was also changing her plastic diaper pants.
At any rate, the mail came today and Faithful Reader Target Steve and his lovely wife Beth sent me a Shabby Chic cup! I no longer have to use the depressing purple Hello Kitty cup I was using to clean my night guard.
Okay, technically it was a Choco Kitty cup, who I guess is Hello Kitty's edible cousin or something. You greet Hello Kitty but you eat his cousin. I don't know. And I don't really use Pantene hair gel. It does not begin to tame this hair. I use Mop. Pantene is my backup emergency I-am-out-of-Mop gel.
Okay! Paint ideas!