Taking a nice hard stab with a flesh machete into 200 lbs of healthy guts and going around the world with it. Repeatedly. Sometimes at work. Mostly because it’s convenient. We call it stirring paint because of the sound, mostly. And because it’s typically messy, especially when you pull the stirrer out.
I heard it again. They’re stirring paint in the mop closet. Again. Shameless. I wonder if it was Sherman Williams, or the cheap Sears shit.
Only occurs on sunday when the giraffe preacher says holy thanks to spaghetti
Will you be attending the paint stirring later tonight?