2004-11-22 - 6:31 p.m.
Super Duper weekend.
Having resigned myself to having to do some serious housework as Delicious had a bee in her bonnet that had been stung by a wasp that was trying to steel its home whilst the bee was returning from a frolic in a pretty flowery field randomly covering its hairy back with polen on some relaxing summery day, we set about finishing the stairs (sanding and polishing) and repainting the kitchen ceiling.
the reason we had to repaint the ceiling is due to the HORRIBLE ESPRESSO DISASTER OF OCTOBER 2004. During a particularly lavish and successful party, I was taunted into manipulating my espresso machine in order to produce.... espressos. WELL! On checking my cards and "folding" (5 of diamonds and a King of puppies paws - Clubs to the unninitiated) (the game was Poker) I walked into the kitchen to hear a strange sound from said espresso machine. I lifted the lid and all seemed well, caffienated steam was indeed condensating on the roof of the upper vessel and cascading down the walls to gather at the bottom. All seemed well, despite the strange sound. As I walked away, to curl small slices of lemon peel, the sound increased to a deafening hiss, then BOOM! the whole machine exploded showering the entire kitchen, parts of the lounge room and the hallway with coffee - both in its natural crushed form and in the boiling liquid. Thankfully the quick witted guests all jumped up and grabbed some kitchen toweling and whiped up all we could, leaving only the ceiling spattered with this horrible coffee colored goo. Extra glad we went with the semi gloss in the kitchen now I tell ya!
So finally all trace of that fateful night have gone.
I am being pestered into quoting my friend who obviously has nothing important to say.
----- " I have nothing important to say" Moses Sackowitzzzzzz 11.22.04
Followed almost immediately by
---- "Humans are nothing but self automated replicons. Self automated replicons."
Some people will do anything for fame.
Anyway, ceiling bit, DONE, hallway staircase was the other mammoth job. sanded to within an inch of its life and covered in polyurothane. 15 hours of sanding. 15 hours.
15.
I am wearing a shirt today. A red one that probably should have been ironed.
I very nearly turned my eight track into something completely NOT eight track-like as it was the straw that broke our hero's cool on Sunday night when I tried desperately to listen to a recording of the last thing I was able to record on my failing system AFTER my Quadraverb packed in. It was making buzzing clicking crappy noises usually attributed to some wiring fault, hence I had re wired half the studio to find the problem before nailing it down to the quadraverb.
Oh well, it was only sixty bucks.
p
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