Fun With “Mr. Sticky”

So, my sweetie and I were at the grocery store the other day, when we stumbled upon a demonstration of a “new” device, an “eco-friendly” lint roller, “Mr. Sticky.” Unlike most lint rollers, this one does not require the top layer be peeled off and thrown away, and unlike those bizarre lint brushes, if you accidently go backwards, you don’t get a wad of lint the size of a small dog sitting on your jacket.

My sweetie loves hats. Not just any hat, oh, no. She loves, and looks damn hot in Fedoras. Her favorite one is a black wool felt number that she wears in cooler weather and makes my knees weak.

The woman knows how to wear a hat. And a pin-stripe suit, but let’s not go there right now, ok?

One of the biggest issues with the aforementioned black Fedora is its penchant for collecting color-dulling lint. She goes through those damn paper lint rollers like nobody’s business. Ah, the price of total hotness…

Back to “Mr. Sticky” at the grocery store.

After the “Mr. Sticky” demo, we had a quick discussion and decided to take the plunge. After all, not only would we get the regular roller, we’d get a smaller “travel” roller that was perfectly suited for cleaning a hat. But wait, there was more! Besides the regular roller and the travel model, we were also getting the GIANT “Mr. Sticky!”

Now, this GIANT “Mr. Sticky” is about the size of a paint roller and sits on a long handle. He is perfect for getting under beds, and removing cobwebs from high, hard-to-reach places.

My darling dislikes cobwebs, and the thought of being able to remove them quickly and easily pleased her to no end.

When we returned home, my daughter (who wishes to remain known as Spawn) was at the house, so we (meaning my partner) decided to demonstrate our new friend, “Mr. Sticky.”

Before I continue, we have an odd habit of naming objects. The names are simple combinations of the title “Meester.” followed by the type of object, i.e. Meester. Toaster, Meester Cat… you get the picture. Why do we do it? Who the hell knows? We’re old enough to get away with shit like that and not care.

Anyway, once we convinced Spawn that we did NOT name Mr. Sticky, she was less confused and a little bit impressed with the device. Especially the GIANT one, which my love was eager to try out on the ceiling in the kitchen.

She pulled off the cover, extended the handle, and pressed the sticky roller to the smooth surface of the ceiling and stood there, not rolling.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s stuck.”
Spawn giggled.

My love gave it another push and the handle popped right off, leaving “Mr. Sticky” stuck over head.
“Great,” I said, “now what?”
Mr. Sticky answered that by suddenly releasing his grip on the ceiling and dropping into Spawn’s outstretched hand.

Fast forward a couple days. It was late, my love and I were exhausted from a day of yard work and were slowly crawling our aching bodies into bed. Just as I was about to turn out the light, I saw a spider on the ceiling. Not being a big fan of over-head type spiders, I exited the room and grabbed GIANT Mr. Sticky.

It. Did. Not. Go. Well.

There was sticking, swearing, and finally, gagging. Of course, the first thing to happen was the marvelous “Mr.” getting clingy with the rough texture of the bedroom ceiling. It took some time to figure out how I could roll it and still remove the offending critter. Or, sort of remove the spider. See, when “Mr. Sticky” is wet, either from water or spider goo, “Mr. Sticky” is no longer sticky, he’s disgusting.

The end result was a glob of guts smeared on the ceiling, more on Mr. Sticky, and a carcass dangling overhead.

Next time, I’ll just get Mr. Berretta and shoot the damn spider.