Impenetrable Packaging & Eyeglass Repair

So I found this while browsing the internet one day…

scissors

This, my friends, is a bad day summed up in one picture. Doesn’t this just irritate you? Like, I’m pretty sure I can narrate what went on here:

New scissors! Hooray! I can finally cut things, but first let me open this nearly impenetrable packaging.  Alright, let me just go find my completely dull scissors to open this nearly impenetrable packaging. Guys, this isn’t working out so well. Maybe if I squeeze the handle a little harder…Annnnd they’re broken.

Who thought of this packaging for something like scissors?! Like, I know it’s probably a safety thing at the store, but dang! The reason why you bought scissors in the first place is because a) you don’t have any or b) the ones you have needed replaced. In either case, you need scissors to get new scissors!

Have you guys ever seen the packaging for flash drives or memory cards? Pretty much the same. They make it so that getting the packaging open is an excruciating process. And it’s ridiculously huge, like ten times the size of the item. I guess they think it’s funny. But at least you can use scissors to open them. eyeglasses repair kit

The level of ridiculousness for all this packaging reminds me of something that has bothered me for years. As a person who wears glasses, it’s incredibly irritating to me that the screws on the hinges of my glasses are so small. They get loose, you have to screw them back in. It’s a hassle. Especially because you get this handy dandy little (and I mean little) kit to work with. Don’t let the image enlargement fool you. Everything in this kit is microscopic. Even the screwdriver. Who said, “Here’s a great idea! Let’s make the blind people take off their eye corrections and have them try to fix their own glasses!” Like, I’m pretty sure these people are sitting behind monitors with popcorn somewhere watching all this go down. I’m glad we’re entertaining for them.

More Bathroom Embarrassment

Okay, just one more bathroom story. Then, I promise I’ll talk about something else for a while.

I went out for my friend’s 22nd birthday a couple months ago. A group of us decided to go bowling and after that, we went out to eat at this tiny diner. (By that time, it was like 1 am.) The company was good. We sat there and sang Taylor Swift’s “22” to him, and it was generally a great time. After we ate and sat there for a while, we all started to get tired so we got up and started to leave. On this particular night, my sister and I rode together, and right before we walked outside she stated that she needed to use the bathroom. One of our friends that was walking out with us agreed, so we turned around to use the facilities.

Alright, so far everything is normal.

My bathroom experience was normal, so was my sister’s. My sister and I popped a squat on a little bench outside the bathrooms to wait for our friend to get done.

That’s when all bathroom hell broke loose. (That was definitely an exaggeration.)

This guy walked out of the men’s bathroom with, I swear to you, ten feet of toilet paper attached to his heel. You guys, I’ve only seen this kind of thing happen in the movies. He just walked by us (by the time he reached the end of the bathroom hallway, the TP had detached itself from his foot) and I just sat there in shock. I had never seen that happen to anyone before… How does that happen? Like, I check my feet every time after I use public restrooms. I thought everyone did that.

My sister and I looked at each other at the same time… and we freaking lost it. (It was like 2:30 by this time… we were slap happy anyway.) We were both in tears from laughing so hard. We weren’t laughing at him, we were laughing at his situation… because I promise you, it’s hilarious when you see that in real life.

At that point, our friend came out of the bathroom. She took one look at the ten feet of TP on the floor and another look at my sister and I doubled over laughing on the bench. We tried to explain between breaths what just happened and she said:

“Sometimes I think I’m having a bad day, then things like this happen to other people…”

In unrelated bathroom news, I go to school with the Hulk. I walked into the bathroom on the silent floor of my school’s library and found this gem. Feel free to create your own story about what happened here:Stall Door

‘Bout to Burst: I Can’t Hold It Anymore!

So apparently I’m going to be posting bathroom stories for a while because my last post got me thinking about all the crazy things I’ve experienced with bathrooms.

This particular bathroom incident happened a little less than a year ago while I was visiting my family in Texas. We decided to go to Galveston on this particular day, just to sightsee, so we took the ferry across and had a wonderful day doing touristy things. When the sun was about to set, we decided it was time to head back to Orange, where most of my family lives down there, but before we left, Leeah and I wanted to visit our favorite tourist stop. While there, we decided that we were parched from the day on the beach and all the walking around in the shops on The Strand, so we walked across the street to a McDonald’s.

I got a HUGE iced tea (ya know, in one of those big foam cups) and it was gone by the time we got on the ferry, which was like 2 miles from McDonald’s. (I mean, the island is only 27 miles long and 3 miles wide… so it doesn’t take long to get anywhere). But that iced tea was demolished.Ferry

Anyone whose ever been to Galveston knows that there’s a really really really long stretch of road (I-87) with nothing except beach houses for miles after you get off the ferry (if you’re headed toward Houston). I’ll remember this road forever because it has scarred me for life. I promise you, there is nowhere to stop for gas, food, or the freaking bathroom. Except when you get towards the end. And let me tell you, this freaking road does not end… for miles.

By the time we got to the end of this ridiculously long stretch of road, I was about ready to burst. I had to pee so badly. I’m pretty sure it was the closest I’ve ever been to peeing my pants. It was awful. But we’re just getting to the good part.

So, we finally reached the gas station at the end of I-87. I thought I was seeing a mirage. My sister and I jumped out of the car and walked (by that, I mean we pretty much ran like a bunch of uncivilized children) into this gas station and quickly searched for the nearest bathroom (at that point, I would’ve been satisfied with a hole in the ground. The place didn’t even need walls. I had to go.) After we found the bathroom, I raced myself right on in there. I was smart enough to look for toilet paper as to not violate Restroom Rule #1. But guess what? There was no toilet paper to be found.

I raced out to the cashier to ask for toilet paper, but he wasn’t behind the register. Great. So I rang the little desk bell like 19 times. By the time the cashier took his sweet time making his way up to the register, I thought my bladder might explode. As soon as I saw him, I practically made a public declaration of my need for proper restroom supplies.

Me: “I NEED TOILET PAPER!”

Cashier: “Oh, the bathroom doesn’t have any?”

Me: “No, it’s all out.”

Cashier: “Okay, let me get some. I’ll be right back.”

You guys, it took him forever to find where he stocked his own toilet paper. When he finally returned to the front of the store, he held two rolls of TP covered in plastic. Awesome. I reached my hand out to take them from him, ready to make a mad dash for the bathroom.

Cashier: “Let me unwrap these for you.”

What he should’ve said was: “Let me take my sweet time cautiously unwrapping these two rolls of TP because I’m going to save the freaking plastic wrapping.”

I was almost rude. But I held it in. He was just trying to be nice. After his 5-minute unwrapping marathon, he finally handed me the blessed TP. This time, I unashamedly sprinted for the bathroom. Fresh TP in tow, I closed the door behind me. I was unbuckling my belt when I coincidentally looked up at the sign on the back of the door. It said something to the effect of:

“Only paying customers may use this restroom.”

Oh, God bless America. I should’ve just peed myself right then and there to make the universe happy, but I settled for using the toilet… and buying an ice cream.

Rupturing Restroom Rule #1

So this is embarrassing…

The other day, I walked into the bathroom at school. It was fairly normal, just like any other day walking into the bathroom. There was no one else in there, so I just took a random stall and closed the door behind me. I hung my purse on the little peg on the back of the door and took off my coat to hang it up as well. I proceeded to sit down and do my thang. But right as I was reaching for the toilet paper, the realization that I broke Restroom Rule #1 hit me. I forgot to check to make sure the stall actually had toilet paper.

I almost cursed, y’all. It got real in that stall for a hot minute.

Since I’ve never broken Restroom Rule #1 (that was a 20-year record I had going), a thousand questions ran through my mind all at once. What do I do? Do I sit here and drip dry? (Gross.) Do I wait for someone to come in the bathroom and then plead with them to hand me TP? (That wouldn’t have worked. I was on my way to cover a story I was writing and I had to be on time. The universe would have repelled women from my restroom’s location.) Do I try to reach under the stall wall and unravel some TP from the stall next to me? (I tried that. My arm hurts and it doesn’t work.)

I was at a loss. But, thankfully I remembered this is 2014 and my iPhone was in my coat pocket. I leaned forward to grab my coat off the hook and took out my phone. I dialed my sister because I knew she was in the building (actually, she was right outside the bathroom door at the time) and the following conversation went down:

Leeah: “Hello?”

Me: “Hi… Ummm… I need some toilet paper. Don’t judge me.”

Leeah: “BAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!” (I swear she laughed so hard. Not nice.) “You’re a hot mess.”

After she got done judging me, she went into the stall next to mine and handed me some TP under the door.

toilet paper

Me: “Ummm… I hate to bother you… BUT WHO THE HECK USES ONE SQUARE OF TOILET PAPER TO WIPE?! A little more…please.”

Leeah: “Dang, girl! How much TP do you think you need?”

As if the situation wasn’t already uncomfortable, she now wanted me to explain what amount of TP I desired because her suggested amount wasn’t good enough?! Haha. No. Thank God I didn’t have to ask a stranger to perform this completely irrational TP-fetching task.

It might have been my imagination, but I swear to you, this came next. She’s totally fired by the way.

toilet paper

Moral of the story: Do NOT, by any means, violate Restroom Rule #1. Your friends will laugh at you and you won’t get a good wipe.

Nonstop Nightmares

Just for funsies (and because I couldn’t really think of anything good to write about today) I took WordPress’ advice and looked at their 365 Days of Writing Prompts just to see if today’s topic would spark my interest. I was very eerily gratified.Nightmares

Today’s topic: Nightmares
Describe the last nightmare you remember having. What do
you think it meant?

Life is so coincidental sometimes! I kid you not, I have gotten no sleep for the past three nights because of nightmares. (Side note: I fell asleep on the silent floor in the school library earlier today. Best sleep I’ve gotten all week. I was almost late to class, but it was so worth it.)

So, I assure you, I have plenty of nightmare stories to go around. However, sharing these nightmares would mean spilling deeply personal details about my life, which I am not a fan of. I mean, my nightmares are supposed to be composed of things that frighten me, and I don’t know if I want everyone knowing what truly scares the crap out of me. But trust me, these things are horrifying.

I will say this: My nightmares are different than my dreams, and not just in fright-factor. A lot of times, my nightmares involve people I actually know and love. In my dreams (happy ones), people are almost always faceless (which is really sucky when I have those knight-in-shining-armor dreams.)

In an attempt to answer the prompt: I think it meant that I need to sort out my problems. Vague, yes, but true.

If I have another one tonight, which is likely because said problems still need to be sorted out, y’all will be the first to know. I might even spill it if it’s not as personal as the last three.

Monday Mornings…

Lately, I’ve been waking up in the morning feeling completely exhausted. Like, most mornings I feel like I got ran over by a semi a few times in the middle of the night. This morning was no exception. I got up, and just felt… blah. I’ll get back to this particular morning in a couple minutes.

I’ve know this for a while, but I’ve seen it more and more over the passed few weeks: I do really stupid things when I’m tired. In the past, I’ve done the classics, like putting the milk in the cupboard after pouring it into a bowl of cereal, or putting the peanut butter in the refrigerator after spreading some of it on my toast. But a few mornings ago, I got out of bed, went downstairs to the kitchen, and poured some cereal into a bowl. I put the cereal back in its proper place and got the milk out of the refrigerator to pour it into the bowl as well. All is normal so far, right? Then, I walked across the kitchen to the silverware drawer and pulled out a spoon. Or at least I thought I did. When I got back across the kitchen to sit down and eat, I had a spoon in each hand. I have no idea how it happened or where I got the other spoon from. I know for sure that I reached into the silverware drawer and got one spoon with one hand. Where my other hand grabbed a spoon from, I have no clue.

Two days later, the spoon debacle happened again! Guys, I’m serious, I have no idea how I keep picking up two spoons within the five feet it takes me to walk across my kitchen and back.

Spoon debacle aside, today I reached an all-time low.

I usually blow-dry my hair after I shower in the morning. Before I do that, I prep it with heat protection spray to reduce the damage because I blow-dry it all the time. This morning, as I was sluggishly trying to get ready, I grabbed a bottle off my dresser and sprayed it in my hair. Yeah… definitely not the heat protectant. After about the second pump, I realized that what I was spraying smelled weirdly like my usual body spray. That’s because it was. I’m a genius. A very tired genius.