Last year my wife and I did what every decent couple does when the conversation eventually dries up – we started renovating. Or at least she did. I came home one day to find a glory hole (I wish) in the wall between the kitchen and the lounge and so it had began, whether I liked it or not.
I didn’t of course but then I’m a lazy bugger and my philosophy on such things is why do it yourself when there’s a good chance you can hire a bunch of Asians to do it for you?
After all, I didn’t do three consecutive tours of Vietnam for nothing and my blood, sweat and urine consumption (usually my own) should count for something! That something is meaningful employment of Asian work gangs I reckon.
But we’ve been doing it ourselves and those that tell you that renovating will bring you closer together as a couple are fucking liars. Right from the get go you’ll be arguing about grandiose plans, colour schemes and just who is going to do what. Then there’s the little game you’ll both start playing called ‘I’ll do my share whilst you’re relaxing after a hard day’s work, so as to lay down a massive guilt trip on your lazy ass”.
Last week Mrs ClubDes kicked it up a notch by suggesting we gut the spare room and do it up as a games room, a haven for us boys to play all manner of electronic gaming consoles and shit. Straight away my guard was up because I’m usually not allowed to play the likes of the Playstation at all in any case, so there had to be a catch somewhere. But, to my wife’s credit, there wasn’t.
So it has been rollers and sandpaper from dusk till dawn and like a couple of gay design boys we have been at; painting, pulling carpet and hanging new blinds. The hanging shelf for the said gaming consoles and TV has been mounted and finally I will have a wall, other than the toilet, to hang my most awesome Matrix posters up on. Fuck yeah.
The finished result is right lush and I’m happy to admit that when all the dust settles on such things you can’t help but have a sense of pride in such things. The missus is coining the finished article the ‘entertainment studio’, which sounds like a bloody posh brothel if you ask me.
Besides, you and I both know that just such a room is befitting of just one title and thus, I decree the ClubDes Mastabatorium open for business.
Bring your PS2 controllers fellas and best pair of boxers to lounge around in; I’m putting on the biscuits for afterwards.
I didn’t of course but then I’m a lazy bugger and my philosophy on such things is why do it yourself when there’s a good chance you can hire a bunch of Asians to do it for you?
After all, I didn’t do three consecutive tours of Vietnam for nothing and my blood, sweat and urine consumption (usually my own) should count for something! That something is meaningful employment of Asian work gangs I reckon.
But we’ve been doing it ourselves and those that tell you that renovating will bring you closer together as a couple are fucking liars. Right from the get go you’ll be arguing about grandiose plans, colour schemes and just who is going to do what. Then there’s the little game you’ll both start playing called ‘I’ll do my share whilst you’re relaxing after a hard day’s work, so as to lay down a massive guilt trip on your lazy ass”.
Last week Mrs ClubDes kicked it up a notch by suggesting we gut the spare room and do it up as a games room, a haven for us boys to play all manner of electronic gaming consoles and shit. Straight away my guard was up because I’m usually not allowed to play the likes of the Playstation at all in any case, so there had to be a catch somewhere. But, to my wife’s credit, there wasn’t.
So it has been rollers and sandpaper from dusk till dawn and like a couple of gay design boys we have been at; painting, pulling carpet and hanging new blinds. The hanging shelf for the said gaming consoles and TV has been mounted and finally I will have a wall, other than the toilet, to hang my most awesome Matrix posters up on. Fuck yeah.
The finished result is right lush and I’m happy to admit that when all the dust settles on such things you can’t help but have a sense of pride in such things. The missus is coining the finished article the ‘entertainment studio’, which sounds like a bloody posh brothel if you ask me.
Besides, you and I both know that just such a room is befitting of just one title and thus, I decree the ClubDes Mastabatorium open for business.
Bring your PS2 controllers fellas and best pair of boxers to lounge around in; I’m putting on the biscuits for afterwards.
I give it three weeks max, before this happens...
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