I wanted to write a bit about the toilet paper situation in our house. There’s a natural order to things, even toilet paper. You might find the topic boring but as your intrepid blogger I’m willing to take a swipe at it.
There’s a three-tier system of toilet paper deployment in our home. I’m not talking about “ply.” That, of course, is something that varies wildly over the course of time and cannot be predicted. If you’re not careful some rolls blow away like dandelions in the wind. These are known in the industry as 1-ply, micro-ply or nano-ply. Others are decidedly thicker and look like what you might expect if you dissected the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. Common varietals include 2-ply, 4-ply, 8-ply, 16-ply, 32 ply and 64-Mbps-ply (if available in your area).
Which tier of the system is for you? It depends on your level of desperation.
In no particular order we begin our journey with an exploration of the Top Shelf Tier. This toilet paper is located at the very top of a cabinet in the bathroom. Despite the lofty name this location has been carefully determined based on being totally inaccessible to the standard occupant in a sitting position. You can reach up and strain your arm but it ain’t gonna happen. This stash is basically emergency use only. It’s the bathroom equivalent of breaking the glass in case of fire. If push comes to shove you’ll have to stand up to get it.
Next we find the Everyday Tier. This is one or more rolls scattered about the room in very accessible positions. This may be the edge of the sink, balanced on the towel rack, or even on the floor. The point is, like an old friend, it’s there when you need it. This is your low-hanging fruit and bestest buddy in the toilet paper realm. But it’s also a dying breed. Your wife will terminate it on sight. That makes Everday Tier a precious commodity and a trusted friend.
Last, but certainly not least, is the Official Tier. This stuff is so highfalutin that it even has it’s own rack. And it’s mounted right on the wall! La-dee-dah! The placement of this rack, however, leaves something to be desired and is, perhaps, the most visible indication yet that this house was designed by Dr. Reed Richards of the Fantastic Four. I know that’s a stretch but evidence suggests his superpowers are required to reach the damn thing. Putting the toilet paper right behind the toilet? Utter brilliance. That ranks right up there with a floor plan design that reveals a direct line-of-sight to the urinals when the restroom door is opened at the pub. Clever!
The point I’m trying to make is that I hate the Official Tier and avoid it unless absolutely necessary. I keep banning it from this realm of existence but it, somehow, always returns.
One time I had a girlfriend move in with me. I kept the master bath for myself and she took ownership of the other bathroom. It was the bathroom adjacent to the living room by the front door. It was informally known as our “public” restroom. The only rule? That it be kept well-stocked with plenty of toilet paper for visiting dignitaries and out-of-town guests.
Then, one day, my best friend went to use the facilities and ended up taking a shower. What the hell? I grilled him when he exited and he claimed he had no choice. There was no toilet paper! No sheet! See? If she had used the three-tiered system that never would have happened.
Avoid pain and humiliation for you and your friends. Get on the three-tiered system today.
I think I used to be edgier. I’d do things like drop the F-bombs in the subject line just to see them fly. Oh well, at least the Random Post feature finds this stuff every once in a while…
Originally posted on Shouts from the Abyss:
Hey, stranger. Are you winking at me?
I feel like such a trendsetter. I paid homage to The Asshole very early during the existence of this blog. What is The Asshole? The answer is complicated. It is part dream, part philosophy, and part psychology. It’s an idea as big as The Beatles, the Dali Lama and Mother Teresa wrapped into one big ball of fun. It’s best friend, enemy, lover, and confidant. And yes, it is also a namesake for a critical piece of human anatomy, that which makes life possible.
I did some research prior to writing this post. That research was a bitch. They don’t always make it easy. Sometimes it is hard to answer questions like:
- What day was my first posting?
- When was the first time I used the word “asshole?”
- When was the first time I used the phrase “Society of Assholes?”
- How many…
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In Star Wars on a planet named Coruscant flying vehicles fill the air like flies buzzing around my head when trying to enjoy a meal on the veranda. The entire planet of Coruscant is one big city. Is that the future of Earth as well? Amazon has a dream of little robots flying around delivering five-pound packages to impatient consumers. Could this really happen? See the reblogged article. I really enjoyed hearing this guy drone on and on about it.
Originally posted on PandoDaily:
Only a few years ago, an army of Amazon delivery drones known as “Amazon Prime Air” would have sounded like an April Fool’s Joke. Even as recently as last December, when Amazon CEO Jeff Bezos unveiled his delivery-by-air plan on “60 Minutes,” some observers dismissed the aircrafts as “smoke and mirrors” and little more than a publicity stunt to drum up press for Amazon ahead of the holiday shopping season.
Sure, the “60 Minutes” piece may have served that purpose, but if today’s news is any indication, Bezos isn’t fooling around.
According to the Wall Street Journal, Amazon has formally asked the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) to start testing drones over its own private property. The petition states that the company is on its ninth drone prototype, meaning it’s much farther along than many expected. The drones can travel up to 50 miles per hour, deliver products in 30 minutes or less, and carry packages weighing up…
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Welcome to the first ever Shouts From The Abyss “Gunfight Poetry Contest.” We are giving away up to $50,000 in cash and prizes! (See official rules.)
Feeling lyrical? Have a flair for communicating big ideas using very few words? You might just win it all! (But probably not.)
We’ve all heard the classic phrase “You don’t bring a knife to a gunfight.” The Sick Puppies even turned that bit of frothy pith into a song. That’s the inspiration for this contest.
Jot down a few clever lines and you could walk away with up to $50,000 in cash and prizes. That’s a lot of scratch.
Here’s how it works:
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This is one of those topics on which I harp on from time to time. And by “harp” I pretty much mean the instrument my family members must be playing up in Heaven. Right after they accidentally burned down the family tree with a carelessly discarded lit cigarette.
Apparently I’m the proverbial apple that fell far from the tree. Or, in Taker family terms, I’m a mutant. Ironically, at least in this context, I’m a dying breed. You see, I don’t smoke and I never have.
I grew up in the “typical” American family. Our core family unit consisted of mom, dad, a sister, myself and 2.3 cats. Assuming the smoking rate back then, the math is already amazing. For simplicity’s sake we’ll say the odds of an adult smoking were one-in-three back when I was a youngling. Based on that, the odds of me being the only non-smoker in a family of four was about 1 in 27.
But wait, the fun doesn’t stop there. My sister had some children. 4 out of 4 of them are smokers. I had a son. He’s a smoker. My wife had a son. He’s a smoker. My son just announced his pending nuptials on Facebook. Nearby was a picture of the lucky couple. Both were proudly holding cigarettes.
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The people in the self-described “weird” city of Portland, Oregon are serious about many things. Like roses, microbrew, recycling, bridges, kale, bicycling, front yard gardens, cafés with garage doors, beards, fedoras, the Trailblazers, dogs and, last but not least, trees. These are but a few of our favorite things.
We were lucky enough to be the recipients of a new tree in our front yard courtesy of a non-profit organization that plants and cares for trees in metro areas. We also routinely have a CAR2GO parked down the block but that’s another story.
What we didn’t know was that this tree was the harbinger of a new long-term relationship in our lives. These trees like to put down roots.
Taking on the responsibility of a tree is a serious matter. It’s nothing to bark at.
We recently received our second report card (in the form of a flyer on our door) based on a personalized visit to our home. Yes, in a crazy mixed-up world where abused children often go unnoticed and sadly fall through the cracks, our baby tree is lavished with love, support and attention. If only the government could run with this much efficiency.
I thought I’d end this post by leafing you with a description of our tree parenting grades. I told my wife we should have redshirted the bastard but no one ever listens to me. Now our graduation ceremony marking us as successful tree companions is in danger of going timber.
Soil: Mixed. Ours was rated “a little dry.”
Mulch: Thumbs down. Ouch. But they said they’ll take care of it.
Root Zone: Thumbs up.
Bark: Thumbs up.
Canopy: Thumbs up.
Sucker Growth: Thumbs up. (Apparently we got a waiver for me to remain on the property.)
Overall Grade: Double secret probation.
There was nary a gold star on our report card. Apparently we’re falling down on the job. But we did get a nice thank you doing our part to help the “urban forest” grow.
In the comments section they also noted that we have failed to properly christen Junior with a name for his root certificate. I’ve purchased some baby name books and we hope to accomplish this soon. I’ve already got a bottle of champagne ready to smash on his/her trunk. Hopefully the christening procedure won’t hurt our Bark Rating.
No trees were harmed during the creation of this post.