First World Problems: My Raviolis Come From Two Different Packages
So I have this thing where I don’t like to combine food items from different packages. Like, if I have a package of spaghetti and I don’t have enough left in the package to make a batch, I will leave the remaining noodles in the package and open a new one, making the batch of spaghetti completely from the new package.
I currently have seventeen bags of spaghetti that have less than a serving of noodles in them because I don’t want to throw them away but I can’t use them because using them means I have to combine them.
They are perfectly good noodles. There is nothing wrong with them. But I just can’t combine them because they come from different packages.
It’s the same with ravioli.
It’s the same with parmesan.
It’s the same with feta.
Hell, it’s the same with broccoli and broccoli doesn’t even come from a package. If I have two heads of broccoli that I bought at two different times, I can’t combine them.
What in the actual HELL.
Anyone else have this stupid issue?
Getting to know the dumpster on a personal level
Boring stuff first: I’m done with finals! Now all I have to do is wait and pray that the results are good. There.
Stuff that happens because I’m a loser: Okay. So I’m cleaning out my room, right? I have these two bags of trash that I need to take out to the dumpster. It’s about 11:00 PM, it’s dark, it’s kind of cold, and surprisingly, no one is around in the halls. So I take my keys and the two bags o’ fun and saunter out to the dumpster in a manly fashion. Not thinking specifically about what I was doing, I basically threw everything I had in my hands into the dumpster.
Including my keys and my Vandal card.
So now I’m standing out there and I’m thinking, “great. Smooth move right there.” So blatantly disregarding the “do not play in or around” stickers all over the dumpsters, I haul my butt up and into the one in which I threw my keys. It’s dark, mind you, and cold. There are several nasty-feeling (and probably nasty-smelling) trash bags in this dumpster. My keys had, of course, sunk to the bottom, along with my attached Vandal card.
I begin rooting around in said dumpster, hoping and praying that nothing thrown in there is too gross/slimy/lethal. By this point I’m probably freaking out people who are walking along the path beside the dumpster because I’m rustling around in it like a raccoon or something and probably sounding like I have rabies.
Finally, I find my keys in the corner of the dumpster, but now comes the issue of getting back out. In my search for the keys I had mashed all the trash down so that there wasn’t an easy way for me to climb to the top and get out. What do I do? I make a little Jenga-like tower out of the trash bags so that I can climb high enough to swing my legs over and jump out of the dumpster.
And I hurt myself doing so, of course.
Moral of the story: when the sales tax reaches 9%, do not by bulk toilet paper.
Oh wait, that’s tomorrow’s!
Today’s Moral of the story: take a buddy (or a brain) when going trash ditching late at night
What joy.
Eigenblogger 