Ok now. I am a big lover of putting things on walls. When I moved in to my apartment and saw that I had 3.5 walls I flipped out and I was like, "I will dominate your bland facade with my interests!!!"
And I did. Oh yes oh yes.
There is very little in my room that does not have something on it. Posters, Glow-in-the-dark stars (my parents would never let me get them as a child. I have no idea why. maybe they thought I wasn't responsible enough for some glow-in-the-dark pieces of plastic), postcards, photographs, coloring book pages, stickers, bear rugs, whatever 'n' such.
But then there comes a point where all that shit must come down. You're like, "oh hi poster, I know that you love my wall, but I'm moving/getting a new poster so you need to come down. And then the 3M strip (or whatever the hell you used to put that sucka up) is like "NO YOU SONOFABITCH!!" And you tug and strain and slowly pry it away. And once the poster comes off it looks somebody threw rock at your wall? WTF 3M strip?
So you move on and get new, improved 3M strips that tell you they will not do anything to your wall, XOXO pinky-promise besties4L. And you're so smitten with the considerate packaging that you're like, "Ok 3M strips, I trust you."
But that was a mistake.
 |
| Don't see that hole anymore do ya? |
Like cheaters, 3M strips are going to cheat on you and FUCK YOUR WALL!!!! So a beautiful wall turns into something which I would assume resembles a hooker's sex kitchen. There are flakes and dust and paint chips and one giant, gaping hole. The only thing you're left to do in the end is cover that sex kitchen up with a Tangled poster. Problem solved.
Moral of this story. 3M strips are adulterous womanizers; but at least we can cover up our shame.
Much love.
-Harrison
P.S. There are two polls at the bottom of the page.
P.P.S. I don't own any of these pictures, maybe I should start making my own... on paint.
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