I have a handful of favorite people. One of my most favoritist favorite people has a blog at http://jinserai.livejournal.com. My post today is a response to his "Clueless Crusade" rant.
Today's blog entry is a response to jinserai's entry, "Clueless Crusade." I originally wrote today's blog as a comment on his, but I erased it. I decided my own rant belonged on my blog. But I'm certainly giving jinserai credit for getting me wound up about the topic again.
I have my own personal crusade against plastic bags. But my gripe is that I don't like the things blowing through the air (especially those flying out the back of garbage trucks), I don't like them stuck in the trees, and I don't like them tossed in my yard. Yes, we humans do use TOO MUCH, but I also don't especially want the government telling me I can't use a plastic bag when I want to (or even charging me 15 cents to use one). So what do we do? Change our *own* GD behavior and use some common sense! Stop being so f**king greedy with our resources! Think beyond our own pitiful lifetimes!
Recently, I purchased several reusable bags and tried to use them at the local big-chain grocery store. I made sure the cashier knew I had them, and she let the sacker know. At first I wasn't watching the sacker (I was unloading the cart), but when I looked up, he was over half finished packing my reusable bags...WITH EVERYTHING FIRST ENCASED IN PLASTIC BAGS! At that very moment, the cashier leaned over to him and said, "And be sure you put the meat in plastic, too." I asked her, "So what's the point of all the plastic bags? I asked you to use my resuable bags." She shrugged her shoulders and said, "I dunno. I've never seen them before." HUH?!?
When I unpacked my groceries at home, I had a pile of 18 plastic bags that encased my food, which was all then placed in my reusable bags. The sacker used at least three times more plastic bags than my purchase would have required withOUT the reusable bags!
Completely different experience: Yesterday, I went to Trader Joe's with two reusable canvas bags. I purchased about the same amount of groceries as I did in my previous big-chain grocery store purchase. I walked out with my TWO canvas bags full and one sack of potatoes. The cashier didn't even ask if I wanted my potatoes in a plastic bag. (They already come in a plastic bag, for crissake!) I can't count how many times in regular grocery stores the sacker automatically puts my milk in a plastic bag. And my sack of potatoes go in a plastic bag. Plastic encased in plastic encased in plastic.
I'm thinking of messing with the cashiers and sackers the next time I get groceries. I could tell them, for the love of god, DON'T put my stuff in plastic bags! I am deathly allergic to plastic bags! I could die within minutes if you put my stuff in plastic bags.
The big-chain cashier and sacker who encased all my stuff in plastic bags would believe it, no doubt.
Showing posts with label doing stupid things. Show all posts
Showing posts with label doing stupid things. Show all posts
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Monday, June 4, 2007
One Fine Day as My Father Grilled Sausages
Another funny father story.
About fifteen years ago, my father had triple by-pass surgery. Overnight, my mother went nuts with serving him NON-fat food, so much so that my father developed a new sentence to describe her cooking: "This tastes like crap." After the horror and shock of his surgery (and his new description of her culinary skills) wore off, she eased up on the non-fat cooking. Over the years, however (and much to MY horror), she now ignores all of the low-fat food suggestions and they eat pretty much anything they want to.
This story is about the day, while my parents were still fat-conscious, that my father decided what he really wanted was some grilled sausages.
He asked mom to make the cole slaw. He fired up the gas grill. He listened to the sizzle of the sausages as he placed them on the grate. After a few minutes, he turned the sausages over and saw that they had plumped. Curious about the plumping, he poked one with a fork. Juices flowed out and caused a flare-up on the grill. He quickly closed the grill lid, but that gave dad an idea.
He opened the grill lid again and poked ALL of the sausages. Surely, he decided, the stuff dripping out of his poked sausage was nothing but FAT since the flame licked up so much. And if he could only drain all of that fat from the sausages while they cooked, he could have his delicious meal without fat, right?
And so, my father cooked the sausages until no more juices dripped from them. He stacked them on a plate and proudly carried them into the kitchen to show my mother his sheer low-fat cooking genius.
He was practically drooling. He had waited so long for this--so many dry, baked chicken breasts! So much steamed vegetables! And now: grilled sausage!
He said that when he tried to cut the first one with his fork, dust flew out. His exact description to me (with a look of disgust on his face) was, "Poof. Dust."
And once again, my father laughs at his own actions. He laughs because he thinks it was the stupidest thing anyone has ever done. I laugh because, yes, it was a pretty dumb thing to do, but more than that because my father can laugh at himself.
Happy Father's Day, Dad.
About fifteen years ago, my father had triple by-pass surgery. Overnight, my mother went nuts with serving him NON-fat food, so much so that my father developed a new sentence to describe her cooking: "This tastes like crap." After the horror and shock of his surgery (and his new description of her culinary skills) wore off, she eased up on the non-fat cooking. Over the years, however (and much to MY horror), she now ignores all of the low-fat food suggestions and they eat pretty much anything they want to.
This story is about the day, while my parents were still fat-conscious, that my father decided what he really wanted was some grilled sausages.
He asked mom to make the cole slaw. He fired up the gas grill. He listened to the sizzle of the sausages as he placed them on the grate. After a few minutes, he turned the sausages over and saw that they had plumped. Curious about the plumping, he poked one with a fork. Juices flowed out and caused a flare-up on the grill. He quickly closed the grill lid, but that gave dad an idea.
He opened the grill lid again and poked ALL of the sausages. Surely, he decided, the stuff dripping out of his poked sausage was nothing but FAT since the flame licked up so much. And if he could only drain all of that fat from the sausages while they cooked, he could have his delicious meal without fat, right?
And so, my father cooked the sausages until no more juices dripped from them. He stacked them on a plate and proudly carried them into the kitchen to show my mother his sheer low-fat cooking genius.
He was practically drooling. He had waited so long for this--so many dry, baked chicken breasts! So much steamed vegetables! And now: grilled sausage!
He said that when he tried to cut the first one with his fork, dust flew out. His exact description to me (with a look of disgust on his face) was, "Poof. Dust."
And once again, my father laughs at his own actions. He laughs because he thinks it was the stupidest thing anyone has ever done. I laugh because, yes, it was a pretty dumb thing to do, but more than that because my father can laugh at himself.
Happy Father's Day, Dad.
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