Friday, March 6, 2009

The Big Cheese

I painted more of our gun tests from last year tonight. I guess my mini-goal is to paint one each night till they're all done. My color schemes are limited right now as I desperately need to pick up more paint. I bought some new sable brushes online though and I'm eagerly awaiting their arrival. I decided once I get those I am going to become more serious about painting not-so-serious stuff. So I'm pretty jazzed.

Tonight I painted .45 ACP. It's the big cheese load of pistols. Everyone and their mother swears by it, but I say if you get shot with anything (with the exception of people in my dreams who can be shot head on with 7.62x39 ten times and still manage to come at me), you'll probably be going down. But that whole genre of tactical wienies swear by it so it's only appropriate the big cheese of pistol calibers be painted in colors of, well, cheese. Why not? Now that I think of it, I should have made the outside red so it looks like gouda or something. But I think the blue makes the yellow and white look that much brighter. Red would bring too much attention to the object and take away from the openings. And that's what the pieces are all about; emphasizing what various calibers do to clay, in other words, gun tests.

On a totally unrelated note: this morning I woke up and went back to bed and didn't wake up till Jesse left for work. Oddly enough, I had been dreaming about sex with Jesse (I know, I'm no fun, I have sex dreams about my husband.) Anyway, in our dream we were having sex when an old lady started moving stuff into our bedroom. We discretely covered up and stopped what we were doing and Jesse told me that she was the person taking over our lease when we move out. I told him she can't be there because we're not out yet and he said the landlords had her fill our spot before we're gone and I tried to see if we could get out of lease 2 months early but he said we couldn't. There was no explaination, just we couldn't. Then, the girl downstairs was having her parents move in with her and they were converting her place to a loft and the parents would live upstairs. There was a doorway in our stairwell to our unit and when it was opened there were bricks behind it. Just an FYI, I will never live anywhere that has a bricked off doorway because I believe that's a landlord's way of covering evil that once was and trying to keep stuff out. I went outside to call our landlords and my cell phone broke. The people next door were having a party and were being very obnoxious and rude to me. Then my sister comes over and tells me I have to go with her to the gym but there's these weird doctors there giving people shots and I don't want to get them and she says that if I want to go there I'll get the shot and I try to avoid it and I spend some of my time running away from these doctors in this gym which looks like the doctor's office where I used to go as a kid.

So naturally, later on in the evening when Jesse got home, I wanted to have sex. And we did after I put Charlie to bed. Funny thing about having a kid is that sex seems way better post-pregnancy. I'm not the first person who's said this either. The only thing is, most people I talk to seem to be in this school of thought: if they were pregnant and didn't want sex, sex post-pregnancy sucks and they want nothing to do with it ever again. If they were horn dogs while pregnant, they want sex more after having kids and it's better. I'm glad I fall into the last category. I can't imagine what I'd do if I spent the rest of my life not wanting to have sex. I'd say if I were like that I'd just never get married and have kids and be a nun or something because that would be the only way my life would have any meaning. Anyway, the sex, it was great. I'm happy to be married to someone who can satisfy my, er, needs. I love my husband and probably talk about it more than people care to know but, seriously, the man is a great man. On that note, I say goodnight!

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