Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Shrink Wrap

I need to hire someone to open things for me.

Otherwise, I will probably kill myself, accidentally or intentionally.

Shrink wrap.

Who the fuck invented shrink wrap?

Not regular, thin shrink wrap that you find on CDs and magazines that consider themselves worthy of shrink wrap.

I mean the kind of shrink wrap you get on utensils and batteries and DVDs and things like the LAN adapter I received from Amazon today. Maybe it isn't even shrink wrap. It's hard and plastic. But it's wrap. And it looks like it's been shrunk around whatever it's covering.


Oh, you can. Of course you can. Otherwise nobody would ever be able to put a battery into a camera or radio. But when you do open it, you take your life in your hands.

First of all, you need a box cutter or a very sharp pair of scissors to cut through the shrink wrap. Or the hard plastic. Or whatever the crap it is. But there's no real avenue of entrance for your box cutter or your scissor(s). You either cut through the shrink wrap into what is usually the instructions for whatever it is you're buying, thus tearing the instructions to shreds, or you decide not to cut, but rather to poke a hole into the wrap and slide the box cutter or scissor(s) up the side of the package. When you do this, it is entirely possible your box cutter or scissor(s) will miss the poke, and poke you, which is what happened to me when I tried to get to my LAN adapter opened yesterday, puncturing my palm. There is nothing enjoyable about a punctured palm, let me tell you.

What's even worse is when you buy a box cutter or a pair of scissors and they're all shrunk up into shrink wrap and the only way you can get to your box cutter is by using a box cutter or a pair of scissors, but you can't because your box cutter and scissor(s) is (are) shrunk up in the shrink wrap and....AAAARGH!

I used to like Graham Crackers.

I still do.

But I don't like opening a package of Graham Crackers. Not since shrink wrap.

It's depressing.

Opening Graham Crackers should not be a depressing experience.

I mean...they're Graham Crackers!

Remember when things used to be wrapped in paper? And aluminum foil?

That was nice.

That was safe.

Reynolds Wrap won't kill you like shrink wrap will.

I hate shrink wrap.

I really do.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

The Stuff Is Winning

Okay, I tried to work on the stuff yesterday. And I succeeded, to a certain extent. I went out to my hallway and picked up all the cardboard boxes I would have thrown away a long time ago had I not felt guilty about recycling them. See, it's not a concern for the environment that moves me toward recycling--it's guilt. But, you know, guilt pretty much drives every other action of mine, so there's no reason to be surprised that guilt drives this one.

Anyway, I gathered up all the cartons and boxes (are they the same thing?) and took a box cutter and went to work. Got them all cut up and packed in a bigger box to put in the recycling bin tomorrow.

So that was good.

But it was just a small strand on the full head of hair which is my stuff. And it took me an hour or so. And then I had to go to my directing job.

So today, I went at the stuff again, and the stuff just laughed at me. It didn't smile. It didn't smirk. It laughed. Out loud.

"Who the hell do you think YOU are to try to get rid of us?" the stuff said. "We are your STUFF, and we do not go down without a fight! Har Har Har!" (That's how stuff laughs. Har Har Har. I have no idea why.)

So what I ended up doing this morning was what I always do when I feel the need to get rid of stuff but when the stuff laughs at me.

I moved the stuff from one part of my apartment to the other, thereby clearing stuff from a portion of the apartment, allowing me to fool myself into thinking I have actually done something about the stuff.

But I have not.

Because there it was, on the other side of the apartment. Laughing.

And it took me two hours to realize it.

So, there is a certain amount of guilt removed by the work done.

But the problem remains.

And the stuff laughs.

Har. Har. Har.

Monday, November 23, 2009


I have way too much stuff.

And I just don't know how to deal with it.

In fact, that's the reason I'm writing this at this moment. Because, by writing this, I don't have to deal with my stuff.

And I've determined that it is, in fact, really, really time to deal with my stuff.

I am terrible at throwing things away. Somehow, the Depression mentality embedded in the generation previous to mine has embedded itself in my brain. I look at something--a piece of stuff that is no longer pertinent to my existence--and if it isn't shattered beyond comprehension, I tend not to toss it, but to store it. I guess I think that in some sort of Stuff Afterlife, there's gonna be a Stuff Resurrection when all this useless stuff is going to be refurbished and useful either to me or somebody else.

Right now, as I stare at the top of my refrigerator, I am looking at two cookbooks.

First of all, I have no need for one cookbook. I cook, but I don't cook by the book.

And even if it makes a tiny bit of sense to keep a cookbook in the house, why would I need two cookbooks, especially since one of them is torn and tattered and anything worth cooking inside probably wouldn't taste good anyway because of the decrepit shape of the book?

I currently own five televisions. Maybe six. I'll have to look in the back of the closet.

Radios. Boom boxes. Tape recorders. Walkmen. (Walkmans?) Telephones. Answering machines.

In a now-fully digital world, I refuse to let go of my analog past.

And I won't even start with the books.

Magazines. What is it about a magazine which, when I finish reading it, obliges me to think I need to keep it? (There's a sentence there, somewhere, just look for it.) Maybe it's the gloss. I can barely throw out non-glossy items, how the hell can I throw away something that's shiny and sparkly and has a picture of Reese Witherspoon on the cover?

And, on another matter entirely, when have I EVER finished reading a magazine?

Why do I even subscribe to magazines?

Wait a minute, I recall, a few months ago, I threw away a whole slew of VHS tapes. Not commercial tapes, mind you, but old VHS tapes I used to record TV shows. So somewhere in the dump, if you're interested, you can find VHS tapes full of old SEINFELDS and NYPD BLUE episodes.

What I need to do, is to get myself in whatever mode I was in when I threw out the VHS tapes, and begin to throw out everything else.

And I'm not going to get into that mode by typing this. I go. STUFF! GET READY TO MEET THE DUMPSTER!

Wait...who's that on the cover of Entertainment Weekly?

Jennifer Connelly?

Well, I guess I can hold on to just this one...