notes

So, kids, seeing as I have an almost unprecedented, and somewhat unexpected, five days off in a row, I've been doing my little projects around the house again. Right now I am taking a break from painting the cat box office, while my first coat dries. Let me share a few thoughts with y'all.

First of all, I broke down and bought one of those paint edgers from the Home Depot. It sucks. I got more paint on the woodwork than I *evah* did using my blue tape. Plus I think it makes it harder to blend the line between the edges and the main painting. All this might be operator error, but still. Me no like.

Secondly, I of course am blasting the music whilst I paint. You know what kind of music Andrea likes to paint by? I'ma tell you. Hip hop. In particular, I seem to be obsessed with "Low" by Flo Rida, which I keep replaying. For all you old white people (oh, I crack myself up) here's how it goes:

Apple bottom jeans, boots with the fur
Whole club lookin at her
She hit the floor, next thing you know
Shorty got low, low, low, low, low, low

Baggy sweatpants, Reeboks with the strap
He turned around gave that big booty a slap
She hit the floor, next thing you know
Shorty got low, low, low, low, low, low

Okay, I'm not claiming this is great art. It's a party song. And party songs are good to paint to. Even in the cat box office, where there really isn't that much room to dance around. Not that it stops me. Ahem.

But it reminds me of something I meant to tell you all about our lil MILF. It seems every time she and her little group of girlfriends go out clubbing, their pictures end up in (what I am imaging is) the Spanish-language equivalent of "Stuff @ Night." Not always at the same club, either. They make the round of all the Latino nightspots (of which there are far more than we old white people can conceive, apparently), but no matter where they go on any given weekend lately, they get their picture in this publication. So this is what I'm thinking--do we know if the Red Sox are gonna have any new, unmarried Dominicans this year? Because if she's out in the clubs, and she's *obviously* hot enough to keep being photographed, why can't she meet an MLB player? That'd make my mission to get her married off to a rich guy all that much easier.

I foresee two problems with this, however. First, she's 26. Most of those baseball players seem to marry youngish, so the ones in her age group might be snapped up already. Secondly, to quote Kanye, who I also listened to while painting, "...and when he get on, he leave your ass for a white girl..." Big Papi has a blond wife, A Rod did and has shown no inclination to hook up with anything else since, and Manny's wife is Brazilian. Can we find this girl a Dominican major leaguer who *wants* a hot Dominicana? There may be holes in my plan! Ha!

(Did you think these blog entries were going to get any less ridic because it's a new year? You ought to know better. God.)

xoxo