Bleeeeeeeargh
So. Today.
I was given the task of fixing the theatre sandwich board. The cork part was coming apart from the frame, and I was supposed to use the staple gun to fix it so we could put it downstairs in the STUD with the Cabaret poster on it.
Well. It was quite the production. First, it took a significant amount of time to find staples for the staple gun. The 1/2 inch ones were too big, the 1/4 inch ones too small, and the staple gun itself said it needed 30 gauge staples. This leads to my first question of the day: WHAT THE FUCK IS A GAUGE?!?
So then it was time for the episode in my life entitled, "Fun with the Air Compressor," wherein I learned that just because an air compressor is motoring like a demon does not mean it is actually compressing air. Some fun with motor oil, harassing Paul, and messing with the pressure ensued.
Only to find out - the staples were too small to be anything resembling useful. So it was time to pull out the nail gun, and start the whole production over again.
I nail gunned merrily for awhile, and but when I went to move it, I realized that I HAD NAILED THE SANDWICH BOARD TO THE TABLE. I managed to pry it loose, but it ressembled a medieval torture device, with nails sticking out all over the place.
After a few half-hearted attempts to pry the nails out with pliers, I gave up, when into the office, and told Paul the sandwich board was dead, and we needed to move on. His reaction: "So what you're saying is, you're not a carpenter?"
BAHHHHH. Worst hour of my life. I really wish I had been allowed to use glue like I wanted. We will see if it stays dead in the woodshop, or if I will be made to attempt to repair it yet again. At this point, it would be interesting to see how much more damage I can inflict upon it.
I was given the task of fixing the theatre sandwich board. The cork part was coming apart from the frame, and I was supposed to use the staple gun to fix it so we could put it downstairs in the STUD with the Cabaret poster on it.
Well. It was quite the production. First, it took a significant amount of time to find staples for the staple gun. The 1/2 inch ones were too big, the 1/4 inch ones too small, and the staple gun itself said it needed 30 gauge staples. This leads to my first question of the day: WHAT THE FUCK IS A GAUGE?!?
So then it was time for the episode in my life entitled, "Fun with the Air Compressor," wherein I learned that just because an air compressor is motoring like a demon does not mean it is actually compressing air. Some fun with motor oil, harassing Paul, and messing with the pressure ensued.
Only to find out - the staples were too small to be anything resembling useful. So it was time to pull out the nail gun, and start the whole production over again.
I nail gunned merrily for awhile, and but when I went to move it, I realized that I HAD NAILED THE SANDWICH BOARD TO THE TABLE. I managed to pry it loose, but it ressembled a medieval torture device, with nails sticking out all over the place.
After a few half-hearted attempts to pry the nails out with pliers, I gave up, when into the office, and told Paul the sandwich board was dead, and we needed to move on. His reaction: "So what you're saying is, you're not a carpenter?"
BAHHHHH. Worst hour of my life. I really wish I had been allowed to use glue like I wanted. We will see if it stays dead in the woodshop, or if I will be made to attempt to repair it yet again. At this point, it would be interesting to see how much more damage I can inflict upon it.