FUCK!

Ok, so there's this story.

I used to work for a large national book store chain, and I was the Merchandizing Manager (sounds grand doesn't it). I had to do all kinds of displays... prior to their selling their souls and bringing in pre-made display work so that every store was a cookie cutter image of every other store...

But I digress.

It was Read a Banned Book Month. I needed to do a window display for Fahrenheit 451.

I bought red and yellow clear tissue paper with which to make flames. I had a pile of books all set and ready to go on the "burn pile." I just needed a thermometer with which to demonstrate the temperature at which books burn.

So I bought a giant length of white PVC pipe, and I turned it into a thermometer. I spray painted the mercury to the 451 degree mark on it with silver paint. I needed a ball for the bottom of the thermometer. What to do?

A balloon. A silver balloon.

I went to party stores and I went to Walmart. No silver balloons anywhere. I was getting quite frustrated when I had a brilliant idea. I got a balloon, blew it up, took it back into the sort room, grabbed my can of silver spray paint, and aimed it at the balloon.

As I pushed the button I thought, "FUCK!" but it was too late. As the paint hit the balloon it instantly degraded the structural integrity of the balloon and it exploded all over my face, into my hair, everywhere. It was even on my eyelids. 

I had paint on me for about a week. 

So you tell me, did you ever have one of those moments when you were in the midst of doing something, just about to dive in with both feet and then think, "FUCK!"? I tend to do that a lot. Sometimes it ends happily, to my surprise, but other times I end up with a silver face and my friends making fun of me for years.