I just realized that I paint the front deck like Russell Westbrook goes to the rim.
Russ hates that damn rim.
And I hate that damn deck.
Russ and I have the very same DNA of RAGE.
And when we tap into it, Missy, you best get out of the way.
I finished the first coat on my 10-metre-by-4-metre front deck this morning in approximately 97 minutes.
Call it an even 100 minutes when you factor in prep-time.
I am aware that some people like to prepare for major DIY projects.
They are gurly people.
They go to the hardware store and talk to “experts”.
They buy proper “tools” and “chemicals” and read about how to “use” them.
They plan their project like it is the freeking invasion of Normandy.
Then they execute their plan in s-l-o-w m-o-t-i-o-n over agonizingly long
days weeks months.
These people are my Singaporean wife.
And never, not in a million years, could these people begin to understand Russ and me.
Or our anger.
And our need to do something RIGHT DAMN NOW.
I’m pretty sure Russ’ preparation for every OKC Thunder game consists of:
Putting on his uniform, going to a very dark place deep in his mind, and then storming onto the court to annihilate the enemy.
That’s pretty much my painting strategy.
DO IT RIGHT NOW AND BE ANGRY.
None of that gurly preparation crap.
On a good Paint Day, my “preparation” might include hosing down the deck.
Maybe even scraping it and applying an undercoast.
Today’s preparation consisted of:
- buying a 10-litre bucket of close-out paint for the same price as the new brand’s 4-litre bucket
- mixing the paint at 10,000 RPM’s with my power drill
- finding one large paintbrush and one small paintbrush with bristles that are still “flexible”, and by “flexible” I mean “will not make you bleed to death if you get poked by them”
- taking two ibuprofen and applying the Chinese plasters to my neck
- removing my hearing aids (*don’t even ask)
- putting on my Game Day camo pants, NHS Tiger 40th Reunion T-shirt, and ancient OU cap
- sweeping the deck and moving the Missus’ 10 million plants (at least the ones that weigh less than, say, 25 pounds)
- and then …
GETTING MAD AT THAT DAMN DECK!
Look, I have all the respect in the world for Kevin Durant, even if he is a little girlish for my taste, with all his 3’s
But, Down Under, when the lid comes off the paint bucket, it’s time to man up.
To get angry. And go to the damn
That means attacking the front steps first thing so there is NO GOING BACK.
You are constantly moving, cutting, and doing pick-and-rolls against the bigger plants, before hustling back on defense.
After dunking the damn steps, you sweep up the can and fast-break to the other end of the
You slide down on your knees and begin to
paint attack that damn deck.
Always, with this face:
Through it all, you have to stay angry.
Staying focused on the post
game painting comment you KNOW the Missus will make.
After you’ve put yourself on the line, elbows flying in the paint, working for a triple-double, even though it nearly killed you.
She’ll make a comment like:
“Is that what you’ve done?”
But at least Russ gets it.
I know that Russ gets it, because…
HE HATES THAT DAMN DECK.
Even though it looks pretty good after having its butt kicked, huh?
* Don’t ask