It all depends on your definition of “Ladylike”…

This is the bathroom I would have if my bathroom wasn’t the size of a toddler’s closet.  Gotta dream big right?

We’re remodeling the bathroom.

This was fun, like, 2 months ago. It is not fun now.

However, Benjamin is a prince, and is going to try to get the bathroom sink, with it’s new vanity, functioning before we have the most awesome of all house guests arrive – The Cousins & Posse. It’s gonna be amazeballs, but social niceties might become a little strained over a 10 day visit if there’s only one working sink in the whole damn house.

So Benjamin gave me a list of stuff to pick up at the local home improvement store. A very short list that I thought I could handle. They label their shit right? How hard could it be??

First of all, I would just like to say that jumbling hose clamps together on a shelf and just providing general ranges for the size hose they might fit – without actually making sure each box contains the same size of hose clamp – is helping no one. You complete bastards.

Also, it just so happens that I know how to use band snips, and if your employees fail to open the bundle of hardibacker concrete board thingies that I need to get into, then it just so happens that I will hunt down the pair of snips your miscreant lackeys left lying around and open the damn thing myself. Because I couldn’t find anyone to help me. You market this as a place for Do-It-Yourselfers. Guess what? You just met their mom. So suck it.

Then, THEN – I get my 3×5 hardibacker board thingy out to the Honda Accord.

Exhibit A: Things not fitting.

AND IT DOESN’T FIT. It is 2 inches too long to fit in the backseat. I try rolling down the windows. I try folding the front seats forward. I try the trunk. I try folding the back seat down and going through the trunk. I try standing it up long-way in the front seat. I try sliding it over the tops of all the seats. Nada friends, absolutely no progress.

This is officially getting exponentially more frustrating, I now have 3 car doors open, I’m sweaty, pissed off, and my phone just dinged a text at me and I have no effing clue where it is.

So, I fold the passenger seat forward. I scoot the driver’s seat all the way to the steering wheel. I roll down the rear driver’s side window, and I remove the headrest from the front passenger seat. I stand at a 45 degree angle to the car, and I come running full tilt from the rear passenger side and jam that mother for all I’m worth with elbows, shoulders, knees, gut and hips. This is what I’m left with:

Seems simple enough, nip and shut right???

So I send Benjamin this message:

“How important is this corner?”

To which he responds, “I can work around it”.

Right-O Captain!! I grab my brand spankin’ new 8″ tactical survival knife from the front seat, which just so happens to have the tactical-survival-knife-equivalent of a drywall saw on one side, and I start hacking at the hell beast.  And I’m getting approximately nowhere when the corner – where I’m not cutting – just breaks. And then my knife breaks the other corner. I’m pretty sure this small victory was an accident. Well? At least I’m done. So I go to shut the car door, and the door STOPS, ONE BLOODY INCH from latching.

This is the point where my last damn nerve was pressed upon in a most heinous fashion. So I yell, “YOU F–KING BITCH” and punch the hardibacker board. In the home improvement store parking lot. Next to a soccer mom van. And also, apparently, next to a tiny man in a tiny suit, who is quickly crossing to the other side of the parking lot. To soothe him, I call out, “Oh hiiiiiii, gettin’ hot out here isn’t it??” And fan my face as if I were just possessed by Miss Vivien Leigh herself, to show I’m a lady with manners and whatnot. Then I resumed punching the concrete slab in my backseat. I think he felt better about the whole thing, I know I did.

Exhibit B: Evidence of the killer left hook I can unleash on an inanimate object.

So I get home with this bane of my existence. I inform Benjamin he’ll just have to make do with a 3×4 piece of hardibacker board, and honestly, no one likes things that are exactly 5 feet long anyway. I have improved upon the long-standing model. To suit our modern times. And Honda. It’s a miracle of physics really.

Time for a beer y’all.

XOXO

~ J ~

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Texas Fence Supply is a supplier located in North Dallas; contact us for information on our wood and chain link products, as well as our modular fence system.
This entry was posted in Adventures, Behavior, We're All Guilty of It, Epic Fails, Who? Me?, WTF and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to It all depends on your definition of “Ladylike”…

  1. Patrick says:

    I just went through the exact same thing trying to pack a bike into a bike rack-less Mazda3! It took me half an hour in a Wal-mart parking lot to squeeze it in (and me in a dress shirt and pants).

    A beer? Make that two.

  2. moinla says:

    I gut-laughed reading this. My niece is awesome.

  3. Mooselicker says:

    This makes me not want to own a bath. Or bathe.

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