Caulk Like a Man

Springtime is a great time to tend to those household repairs you were supposed to do over the winter, like caulking.

I worry that I’m not a real man because I don’t know how to caulk.

Our culture infers that real macho men inherently know how to do manly things like caulking, changing oil, identifying a 7/16-inch socket by sight and caring more about our favorite sports teams than we do about our in-laws.

Caulk is a pasty substance that comes in a tube, is used to seal cracks and crevices and has a mind of its own. It creates a neat, straight, continuous bead that seals the crevice between the top edge of a bathtub and a wall, for instance. That’s when it’s applied correctly.

When misused, it’s best to sell the house.

In the hands of the incompetent, Caulk mutates into a giant gooey entity like the gelatinous monster in the horror movie “The Blob,” which will terrorize your home. 

The internet contains how-to videos, claiming caulking is “as easy as A-B-C.” 

They’re “full-of-s–t.” 

Here’s what happened when I tried to caulk the baseboard in my living room: 

I spend most of my morning at the hardware store trying to determine if I need acrylic latex, vinyl latex, rubber, siliconized or adhesive caulk. Should I get it in clear, white, tan or mildew resistant? (We need caulk that is dummy resistant, for “This will be an easy project” unmanly men like me).

I select two tubes of white silicone for the number one reason that most men do their own home repairs.

They were the cheapest.

I drive home and spend the rest of the morning looking for my caulk gun.

A caulk gun is a device invented by a really devious person to make the saps that try to use it look like idiots. 

Caulk guns should not be sold to the general public until the buyers undergo thorough background checks and waiting periods.

Once I locate my caulk gun, I spend 10 minutes cleaning off the globs of dried caulk from previous caulking calamities.

I get my utility knife to cut the tip of the caulk tube applicator, only to discover that there is no blade in the knife.

I wasted another 10 minutes looking for a replacement. I found one and sliced the applicator at an angle, just like the video demonstrated.

I arrange everything needed for my repair: a plastic drop cloth on the living room rug, paper towels and a cup of warm water to dip my finger in to smooth out the caulk line (yeah, right).

I shoo away my pet dog, Kody, who is trying to lap up the water.

I load the tube in the gun and pull the trigger.

Nothing comes out.

I pull it several more times.

Still, there was no caulk.

As my frustration grows, I pump the handle violently with both hands adding some vibrant language for effect.

Finally, caulk oozes from the tube, but out the wrong end.

My language really starts vibrating when I realize my mistake. I didn’t pop the seal between the tube and the applicator. I get a nail from the kitchen junk drawer, but it isn’t long enough to reach the seal. I go out to the garage and get a long screwdriver.

It pops the seal and caulk quickly and uncontrollably oozes out to form an icky sticky pile on the plastic sheet. I release the trigger pressure to stop the flow.

I place the tip at the top of the baseboard and slowly pull the lever as I try to steadily and consistently apply a smooth and even bead along the baseboard.

Instead, I create an unsteady caulk strip full of lumps, spaces, drips and drools that make it look like drunken vandals applied it.

As I proceed along the baseboard, I knock over the glass of water, forming puddles on the plastic sheet.

I set the gun down and tried to smooth out my caulk mistakes by running a wet finger along the bead. 

Instead, smooth turns to a smear and caulk gets all over the wall, baseboard and my fingers. 

Meanwhile, the caulk gun, which is sitting by itself, expels its contents, forming another gummy blob of terror on the plastic sheet. 

In my haste to pick up the oozing gun, I step on the caulk blob and track it all over the plastic sheet and the carpet, for good measure.

I throw up my sticky hands in surrender, plop down in a puddle and shake my head in resignation.

Kody comes over to comfort me by licking my face. That’s when I discover that he has stepped in the caulk blobs and has caulk all over his front paws. I know this because I can see a line of caulk paw prints leading from the living room to the kitchen and back.

“Screw this!” I mutter as I remove my sticky-sole sneaker. “There’s gotta be an easier way to establish my masculinity.”

I think for a minute and shout, “I got it!”

“I’m going to get hormone shots.”

Get more Jim Pfiffer humor on his Facebook page and his “Full of Wit” blog. To learn more about Filomena Jack, see her artwork and contact her, visit www.FilomenaJackStudio.com.