Futility Now

I was really tired of my office being bright blue, so over the break we did something about it. First we painted the middles of all the walls a sort of nondescript tan. After that there was a beautiful vision in which we would strip and stain all the wood, but basically the stripper was so toxic we gave it up. Even the curtailed version of the plan in which we only stripped the floor molding was pretty exhausting, probably more unctuous than all of the subsequent painting combined.

Then we masked things off, which actually looked pretty cool on its own.

Then there was the painting of the dark portions. I think it turned out pretty well.

And that’s good, because it ended up being pretty crazy. We actually finished on the 31st, just in time to put on more appropriate Champagne-drinking outfits, which is good because boy howdy.

I think that any right-thinking person can see clearly that the aura of sleaze and degradation that a Polaroid can add to almost any image is truly beautiful. In order to make the most of this, we have decided to create a Polaroid wall, which we will populate with specimens that we (in our totally unbiased opinions, of course) find particularly charming.

Speaking of particularly charming, the backing for this is covered in Tyvek, arguably the world’s most perfect substance.

Our plan is to keep adding images until the whole thing is full, at which point new images will have to be weighed against the existing ones and found superior in order to gain a place. If the cost of Polaroid film doesn’t bankrupt us, we’ll keep you posted.

UPDATE: Replaced the obvious pop-song reference with a totally obtuse one.