The Plastic Bag Incident

I was about to jump in my car to get some groceries this weekend when I was struck by a sudden sense of responsibility. "Time to save the planet," I thought, as the smug began to rush over my entire body. I imagined the 82-year-old neighbor giving me a high five and tousling my hair as I rushed up the stairs to grab some reusable bags (which, as far as I know, may actually be made out of a biodegradable cotton-like substance formed when dolphins are consumed in a coal furnace).

Anyway, I come back down, throw the bags in the car and head to the supermarket. After several minutes of winding up and down the aisles in search of a variety of tasty items, I finally make it to the check-out counter where I plop my "green" bags down and display a self-satisfied grin. Apparently, I was too self-righteous to notice what was going on as I paid for my food.

It was some time later that I noticed the cashier had quadruple-bagged my milk before placing the plastic mess in my save-the-earth bag, thereby negating any benefit of bringing my own reusable bags! But, truth be told, I had no idea that my milk could potentially taint, infect or destroy the rest of my groceries.

Screw the planet! Now that I know milk poses a clear and present danger to other groceries, I'm going to start bringing latex bags and a giant rubber satchel made out of tires just to hold my virulent dairy.


(Photo courtesy of Arbel Egger)

Meeting E.T. with OCD

Most of us have fond memories of Spielberg's 1982 classic E.T. Not this guy. I have a sweet case of OCD, so the very thought of a dessicated alien hanging out in my closet is enough to give me the heebie-jeebies.

What's that, poor little feller? You got left behind by your intergalactic family? Well they should've attached you to their craft by a long leash, Mitt Romney style. At least that way you'd be dangling behind their spaceship, rather than fraternizing with my toys.

Wait! Did you just put a glowing, freakish little finger on my Atari? Guess I'll just toss that in a bonfire! Thanks for that, space man. And you best believe I'm burning all of my stuffed animals, too.

I don't care if they dress you up in a goofy little outfit and point out how cute you are. There's not enough Purell in the world to put my mind at ease. I'll be obsessing about all your tiny little space germs invading my body for the rest of my life. In fact, I haven't felt this gross since I slipped out of my flip flops and onto some dog crap when I was five. Took me eight bottles of antibacterial soap and a therapist just to feel right again.

Now where're you going, little man? Hey, stay the crap out of my fridge. Ohh! WTF?! That's a brand-new milk carton. Well now you can just toss it down the toilet. Pasteurize it 12 more times; there's not a spitting chance in hell I'm ever taking a sip of that tainted dairy.

You know what? From now on, I'm just gonna live in my G.I. Joe tent outside. And when those scary government folks show up at the end to wrap everything up in cellophane and latex. Well, they best just save some of that for me. Oh, and don't mind if I do try on one of their air-tight suits. I'm gonna need it just so I can sleep at night.

E.T., you may eventually rejoin your family, but my life as I know it is over. And since you waddled past my mom, I'm never getting within three zip codes of her ass again.

(Photo courtesy of Carol Esther)

Poison Potpourri

We just noticed a few carpenter ants in our kitchen. Never a good sign. So, I went on a mission to get some RAID Ant & Roach spray to take care of the problem.

When I get the spray home, I notice the can says "Country Fresh Scent."

Country Fresh Scent?!!



Well, I read the directions and sprayed accordingly. Sure enough, my home smells like the English countryside, but I'm wondering: "Is this stuff killing me while it attacks ants AND unpleasant odors?"

Next product on the market:

Spearmint Cyanide Toothpaste - "Kills bad breath for ever!"

(Photo courtesy of Dalantech)

These Days, Just Rolling Up a Window Will Cost You

My wife was driving me and a friend home after a dinner party. As I sat in the back it began to get a little hot, so I did what most people do in that situation -- I rolled down the window. Little did I know that the decision would cost me more than a Nintendo Wii.



Upon arriving at our destination, the window refused to go back up. It was about that exact moment a monsoon rocked the Northeast. I barely had time to duct tape the much-needed trash bag to the back of my wife's Camry.

Classy!

The sound the trash bag made on the way to the shop the next morning was unforgettable, a bit like the sound of a hundred parakeets beating their wings against a tiny cage.

Long story short... $345.92 just to roll up my wife's window. Guess I'll have to postpone my plans to get sweet rims for my Tercel.



(Photo courtesy of Anoxlou)