I have googled a lot of strange questions in my day, and yet the Internet never disappointments me with the bevy of answers it provides.
Today, I thought: "Ah ha! I have a question no one would ask."
To which the Internet said: "What you talking 'bout Willis?" Then prompted bitch-slapped me.
The question I asked was, "Can I use paint thinner on my dog?"
And, much to my chagrin there were was a Yahoo! Answers page addressing the subject.
As it turns out, no you shouldn't dip your pooch in a vat of acetone.
This question and answer series has been brought you by the gaping hole that was in our ceiling and my husband's paintjob while repairing it. In addition to on various parts of Sonny the Pug, paint turned up in my underwear drawer (which was closed) and the ass of the Aggie's dress pants (which were hanging in the shut closet.)
We realize that it's not out the realm of logical thought that Sonny covered himself in the paint while serving as his daddy's faithful assistant. And the drawer that holds my unmentionables is located practically under the splatter area. But what baffles us is the pair of pants hanging in the closet with the smear across the butt. How the hell did we get paint from one room into another without opening the door?
Clearly, the only explanation is that our bedroom sits on the Bermuda Triangle of Texas.
Today, I thought: "Ah ha! I have a question no one would ask."
To which the Internet said: "What you talking 'bout Willis?" Then prompted bitch-slapped me.
The question I asked was, "Can I use paint thinner on my dog?"
And, much to my chagrin there were was a Yahoo! Answers page addressing the subject.
As it turns out, no you shouldn't dip your pooch in a vat of acetone.
This question and answer series has been brought you by the gaping hole that was in our ceiling and my husband's paintjob while repairing it. In addition to on various parts of Sonny the Pug, paint turned up in my underwear drawer (which was closed) and the ass of the Aggie's dress pants (which were hanging in the shut closet.)
We realize that it's not out the realm of logical thought that Sonny covered himself in the paint while serving as his daddy's faithful assistant. And the drawer that holds my unmentionables is located practically under the splatter area. But what baffles us is the pair of pants hanging in the closet with the smear across the butt. How the hell did we get paint from one room into another without opening the door?
Clearly, the only explanation is that our bedroom sits on the Bermuda Triangle of Texas.
1 comments:
At least the ceiling got painted! It sounds like you only have the texture left to go- it is way worse than the paint. Perhaps STP should be locked out of the room for this event...
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