Pride goeth before a serious spooging

Some people are good at some stuff.  Some people are good at others.  This realization came to me very easily, as a large puddle of sporf landed on my forehead.  I can only imagine that drywall mud that is thinned down to first coat viscosity resembles what you use to inseminate mares with, in texture and color.  And volume.  Here’s the deal.

The ceiling has got to be taped and mudded.  Teef and The New Guy Who Remains As Of Yet Unnamed (TNGWRAOYU) have both done some work on the walls.  There is more work to be done, but they both have done some.  I decided to start the ceiling.

The thing to remember is that I have never actually done tape & mud.  Sonic and Che did the dojo under J the D while I was out working hurricane Katrina for the Guard.  The god of drywall did the Warehouse dojo.  A couple of unnamed bubba workers did the Canton house.  I started to do one wall, got pissed, kicked the thing down, and declared that there should have never been a wall there in the first place.

Now, you have to understand that I am something of a badass in my own mind.  If I decide I’m going to do something, I pretty much do it.  I might be a drywall savant.  You don’t know.  I might have innate mad drywall skills and go my whole life without knowing it, because I never tried. 

I am not a drywall savant.   

You see, pride is a fucked up thing.  It can make you do stoopid shit.  It can get you into fights, get you killed, or leave you looking like a masturbating elephant has been using you for target practice.  I could have worked on one of the walls Teef started.  I could have worked on one of TNGWRAOYU’s corners.  But not me.  No sir.  The ceiling needed to get done, looked hard to do, so let’s get to it.  I’ll kick its ass.

You see, despite the fact that I constantly attempt to hammer this point into people, well to be exact into Sonic, badassery in one area does not translate automatically into badassery in all areas.  Knowing that I have zero experience, I should have done a wall.  Noooooooo.  Not me.  The very first blade of mud I attempted to transfer from the blade to the ceiling left an egg sized splorf right on my forehead.  It was of Holmsien quality. 

Score so far:  nine seconds into the job, and I look like Johnny Wad’s bitch.  This was the high point of the job.  It went down hill fast.

To my credit, I managed to finish the mud I mixed, getting less than half on me, and at least a quarter of it on the ceiling.  I would estimate that I got shit in the general direction of the ceiling joints in about 1/8^th of the ceiling.  I staggered out of the dojo an hour or so later, as bewildered as a young starlet after the filming of her first bukkake movie.  A gross, but unfortunately accurate, visual image.  As I mentioned, less than half the mud I used ended up on the ceiling.  Fortunately, drywall mud cleans out very easily in the washer or the shower.  I just wonder if being that thoroughly spooged will leave lingering stains on the soul.  It didn’t do much for the ego.