Perfect Paper Towels

Here at the office, there is a specific way to remove paper towels from the roll. We are not allowed to leave any fingerprints or hand prints on the paper towel roll. Therefore, we must grab the paper towel we are getting and pull it off without touching the rest of the roll. This seems easy, but you’d be surprised. Sometimes I end up with half the roll on the ground just trying to pull off a single square.

I was informed today that the proper technique is to use your arm to hold down the rest of the roll, while pulling off your square. If there are wet fingerprints left on the roll, most people will remove the wet sheets until they get to a dry one. However, this makes no sense to me. This person who left a wet print on the paper towels has just washed their hands like you. So if their hands are clean, and your hands are clean, what’s the big deal?

When I need to get revenge on someone or when I’m simply bored, I go around to all the paper towel rolls in the kitchen and the bathroom and leave two whole hand prints on the paper towel rolls. He he he. I’m evil, I know.

There also those here who believe the paper towel and toilet paper rolls must be placed on the rollers a specific way. The newest paper towel or toilet paper square must go over the roll instead of under. Some people here will actually take the time to change it from under to over because they are OCD (or CDO if you put it in alphabetical order).

There are even those here at the office (okay it’s really just one person) who actually fold the end of the toilet paper roll into a little triangle, like you might see in a hotel. Traveling to Baton Rouge and need a nice place to stay? How about the Petrin Suites? You can sleep under a desk and use our nice facilities with folded toilet paper and wet-print-free paper towels.

We were actually required to take a class on our lunch break to learn the proper way to tear off paper towels and toilet paper. I learned the information so quickly that I was appointed teacher, and each person who entered the lunch room was given a lecture. These days, you won’t see anymore fingerprints or hand prints on the paper towels – unless they’re left by me.

Our next class, I’m told, is how to properly use these dry paper towels and neatly folded toilet paper. I only hope I don’t have to give demonstrations.

Where does my intelligence come from?

Despite the fact that I received only one comment on yesterday’s post, and despite the fact that it wasn’t even a compliment, I have decided to continue the blog. After all, I need something to do at work.

In today’s post, I will discuss the source(s) of my intelligence. Theoretically, one’s base intelligence would be derived from one’s parents. Other sources include teachers, books, TV, etc.

Now, for most of my life, I’ve believed that my parents are fairly intelligent people. After all, they’ve taught me most of what I know, and I consider myself to be a well-brought-up young lady/woman/girl. However, last night they each had their own moments which made me question where my intelligence actually comes from.

As a prologue to the first story, you should know that this weekend, my family and I will be taking a trip to our condo in Florida. Two nights ago, just after my father finished his dinner, he exclaimed that he was happy that only our family would be at the condo because all he wants to do is vegetate. End prologue.

Last night, my mother, father, and I were in the car on our way to the Apple store. My father once again asked, just to make sure, if it would be only our immediate family at the condo this weekend. My mother replied that yes, it would only be our immediate family. So my father exclaimed once more that he could not wait to just vegetate. My mother, however, replied that she didn’t understand how he would do this, given that my brother doesn’t eat vegetables.

I glanced at my father, who was also looking at me, and we began laughing hysterically. I asked my mom about seven times (no exaggeration) if she was kidding, but, alas, she actually thought that to vegetate is to eat only vegetables.

Can my intelligence possibly come from this woman?

Now for my father. After going to the Apple store, we all (my father, my mother, my brother, my sister-in-law, her friend, and I) walked over to BJ’s Brewhouse for dinner. While there, we discovered that my sister-in-law’s friend, whom we will call Vee for the sake of anonymity, and I have a great deal in common. Vee was saying that if she ever got stuck in an airport, she would curl up on the floor and lay her head on her Vera Bradley (a brand of luggage).

My dad, however, heard something entirely different, and became excited that Vee and I have yet another thing in common: apparently we both have bears named Bradley. The truth is, I do have a bear, but his name is Parker, not Bradley, and Vee has no bear at all (stuffed bears, that is). We do both have Vera Bradley luggage though.

Does my intelligence come from him?

I’ve decided that my base intelligence must have been very low if it came from the two aforementioned people. Either that, or I was adopted.

The Joker is a Genius

In The Dark Knight, the Joker tells someone that if you’re good at something you shouldn’t do it for free. So, I’ve compiled a list of the top 8 things that people shouldn’t do for free if they are good at them:

1. Work. Do you know anyone who works for free? Sure, there are people out there, called volunteers, who work for free, but why do you think that is? Their work probably isn’t any good.

2. School. Some people are so good at school that they actually get paid to learn. Ever hear of a thing called scholarships?

3. Sex. It’s true. That’s why we have prostitutes. Those people are just so good at sex that they’ve decided it’s not fair to themselves to give it away for free.

4. Gambling. Start out with potato chips or Skittles, but once you get good enough, go for the real green. If you’re good at it, you’ll get paid. If not, you’ll be the one paying.

5. Sports. Start out when you’re just a little kid, and work your way up. If you’re good enough, you can quit playing sports for free, and get paid millions to do something that actually should be free.

6. Stalking. There are some people out there who are pretty damn good at stalking people. So good, in fact, that the people they’re stalking don’t know they’re being stalked. I think that’s pay-worthy. That takes real talent.

7. Thinking. Some people can’t think. Simple as that. When they have to think for a test or when asked a simple question, their brain shuts down. But the real thinkers, like Einstein, Benjamin Franklin, and myself, should be paid just to think.

8. Blogging. That’s right. I think the good bloggers out there should get paid. So I’ll let you decide. If you think I’m a good blogger, you can pay me. Whatever you want – a compliment (in the form of a comment), a favor, pennies… you decide.

Just remember though, if you have some special talent, hobby, or something you just happen to be really good at, don’t do it for free. If no one will pay you, quit doing it.

So in essence, if you don’t pay me to blog, I’ll quit posting.

Maybe.

The Penny Saver

No, I am not referring to the Penny Saver in which Ellen Page found Jennifer Garner and Jason Bateman in the movie Juno. I am referring, instead, to myself.

I mentioned in yesterday’s post that I save pennies. Now, I did say that it was for environmental reasons, but honestly, how can saving pennies be environmentally friendly? You may still choose to believe that if you wish, but here is a completely different story (the true one).

I attend college at the University of Central Florida in Orlando. My cousin also lives in Orlando and occasionally takes me out to dinner. He also always pays. So I asked him once when he would allow me to pay for dinner, to which he responded that I could pay only when I collected one thousand dollars… (easy I thought)… in pennies.

So, my life goal, as of now, is to collect 100,000 pennies (that’s $1,000). Some people tell me I can’t do it, but that only makes me work harder. So I have set out to reach my goal. As of now, I believe I have somewhere between $60 and $70. I haven’t counted them lately, but will do so soon.

This life project is so serious that I have everyone around me contributing. For Christmas, my boyfriend gave me a bag full of pennies, and for my birthday recently, one of my best friends did the same. I also mentioned yesterday that I collected a pretty sizable sum from my coworkers yesterday. As I sat on the ground with a huge pile of coins in front of me, separating the pennies from the rest of everyone’s loose change, one of my coworkers proudly announced that she had started collecting quarters and asked everyone to contribute. Sadly, no one did.

So I was thinking, to help with this project, I may set up a table in front of Walmart and ask people to donate pennies to help save the nation. When they are skeptical, I will provide them with the following story:

You should know, from all the news stories as of late, that the country is having a copper shortage, just as we did during World War II. Remember the days of steel pennies? Well the Scientific Technological Institute of America for the Nation, also known as STAIN has started a new project. You can now donate pennies to STAIN, where they will chemically separate the copper from the other metals in the penny. This copper will be liquefied and used in our fuel. Oh you didn’t know that? Yes, only about half the people that have passed by here today have known that copper is used in our fuel, and the more copper they put in, the cheaper the fuel is. So donate today!

I may also make pamphlets to hand out with the same information, buy a P.O. box, and state in the pamphlet that should anyone wish to donate more pennies, they can mail them to P.O. Box xxxxx, the state chapter of STAIN to help save our economy and our nation!

Seriously though, if you wish to help out with my personal penny project, please let me know. I’ll try to keep everyone updated with the latest penny count.

Going Green

Last night I was watching a little television show called Project Runway. It’s one of my favorites – very fun. Anyway, so Heidi Klum, the host of the show, announced to the contestants that their next project would be to create a cocktail dress for their models. Moment of excitement for models and contestants – oh yay!! Then everyone is ushered into another room where Tim Gunn, mentor to the contestants, is awaiting them to give more details about the contest. He says that they will, in fact, be making cocktail dresses for their models. We then learn, however, that — surprise! — the contestants will be using all green fabrics!

Now, for a moment I sat there and wondered why the judges would want to see 15 different shades of green cocktail dresses going down the runway. Wouldn’t that get a little boring and monotonous? And furthermore, a green cocktail dress? I started picturing in my mind this ugly bright lime green cocktail dress and shuddering at the idea of ever actually seeing something like that in public.

But then, a light bulb went on in my head, as well as in the heads of the contestants, as was clear by their faces. Tim wasn’t referring to green-colored fabrics, but rather environmentally green fabrics. Ahh, yes this makes more sense!

As an added bonus, the models and contestants would get to experience a Project Runway first. Instead of having the contestants travel to the store, as usual, to buy the fabrics needed for their garments, the models would instead go to the store to buy the fabrics they liked most. The girls came back with some awful colors, most of which did not match each other, and some of which were downright hideous. A hot pink cocktail dress? Not to mention, they didn’t know how much fabric to buy, so some of the models ended up walking down the runway with dresses that ended just below their crotches.

So this got me thinking… why would anyone want to be green? To save the environment, sure. Perhaps it adheres with your religion — God told his children to take care of the planet he made for them — or with your political views — maybe you’re part of the Green Party. But I think the most logical reason to “go green” is to save money. How do you do this? Conserve, conserve, conserve. Conserve everything you have.

Although there is not currently an affordable hybrid car or a reasonable alternative fuel on the market yet, there are other ways you can save and conserve. Turn your air conditioner on 80 when you leave the house, and leave it at a reasonable, though comfortable, temperature while you are home.

However, my favorite way to conserve and save money is to collect pennies. You see, no one really likes pennies. So I go around and collect the pennies that no one wants. In fact, today at work I learned that two of my coworkers actually throw away pennies. Now, however, they will be saving them and giving them to me!

Why do I collect pennies? First of all, people have tons of pennies that they don’t want. All those unwanted pennies add up. Secondly, I am told that the value of copper has gone up. Now, of course, pennies aren’t pure copper, but all I have to do is figure out how to chemically separate the copper from the rest of the metals in the pennies. Then, I can sell the copper and recycle the other metals back into the environment!

So, whether it’s saving pennies, wearing [environmentally] green fabrics, or installing a bike in your house that provides all of your energy when you ride it (like on Gilligan’s Island), I think going green is the safe and smart way to go.

The Haef

So there is this guy who works in the estimating department at my place of work. His name is Mr. Haefner (pronounced Hayf-ner). Now this Mr. Haefner’s wife just gave birth to a little baby boy yesterday.

Mr. Haefner (who is apparently nicknamed The Beef) is also an avid LSU fan, so much so that instead of giving him a gift with blue balloons, signifying a baby boy, the girls at the office gave him a gift with purple and gold balloons. Like I said, AVID fan.

So The Beef stated that he wanted to name is boy Ellis Hugh, in honor of his favorite college sports college. I’m assuming his wife did not approve.

However, Mike, who also works at the office, suggested that The Beef name his son just “Hugh” so that he could be called “Hugh Haefner.” I can just see him wearing a little mini robe around and picking up all the little new born baby girls… when he’s five years old.

Apparently, the wife did not go for this idea either because they ended up naming him Noah.

Weekend of Wisdom

So, as some of you may know, yesterday was a very important day. As an American citizen, you should know, that yesterday, July 20, 2008, was the 39th anniversary of the day the first American astronauts landed on Earth’s moon.

More, importantly, though, yesterday was my birthday. That’s right, I celebrated my 19th year of life yesterday. It was quite an uneventful, relaxing day, exactly the way I like them. I received some pretty awesome presents and spent some time with some pretty awesome people.

The night before my birthday, however, Saturday night, was incredibly entertaining.

My four best friends and I traveled to Ruffino’s for my birthday dinner. Well, without fail, every time the five of us go out to dinner together, Meagan seems to spot something she feels the rest of just have to see.

So a series of directions begins:

“Okay ya’ll, there is this couple at a table (discreetly points) over there, and the guy has his hand on her thigh.”

We all begin to turn our heads, but before we can move them even a millimeter we are stopped by Meagan’s loud whisper, “Don’t look now!”

We all begin shielding our eyes and pretending that nothing ever happened.

“Well Stephanie, you can look now because you’re facing them! Just don’t stare.

“Okay, Megan, when I say ‘Look,’ I want you to turn your head slightly to the right and pretend like you’re searching for something on your back. Then you’ll see them. He’s wearing a blue polo and she has on a red dress.

Megan begins to turn her head, but again, “MEGAN! I did NOT say to look yet!

“Now, Kim, you can turn to either the right or the left, but pretend like you’re cracking your back.

“And, Jamie, don’t turn your head, just use your peripheral vision to look all the way to your left.

“Now look one at a time.”

All of us openly, and obviously turn around to stare, only to find the couple sitting three feet apart as if no hand-on-thigh action had ever occurred. Meagan assures us that it had happened, but we just took to long to look. As if it’s our faults!

At my house after dinner, we all learned a very valuable lesson, which I will now share.

There are times in public, as we all know, that the need to expel gas arises. Then, you are put in a difficult situation. “Do I let it out slowly and quietly or just try to hold it in?” Well, let me just tell you that should neither of those options work, and it escapes against your will so loudly that everyone hears it and so forcefully that it actually lifts one of your legs, do not be embarrassed. There is no need to blame it on someone else or pretend it didn’t happen. Instead, you should raise your hands in the air, thus attracting more attention to yourself, lean into the group, and proclaim as loudly as possible, “That was mee!!!”

A Horrible Thing

I’ve done something awful, something horrible, something I said I’d never do. I swore I would always hate them. I thought I would never give in.

It isn’t my fault though! I can’t be blamed. They were haunting me. It was bound to happen. They’re everywhere – on the radio, on TV, on every single bumper sticker page I look at. For a while I didn’t know who they were, or what those bumper stickers meant. But then… one week at the beach changed everything for me.

For the longest time, I shuddered at their name. I didn’t really know who they were, but I knew I’d never give them a chance. Until…

Every day, my little cousin had the TV on the Disney Channel. Endless hours of Miley Cyrus and some little kids who are wizards and can apparently travel to Mars in an instant — and survive! I thought I was going to die if I didn’t first kill myself.

But then I found salvation. In between those long minutes of Miley and the wizards, there they were, shining like a gift from heaven. They spoke to me, they sang to me. I listened… and enjoyed!

That’s right. I’ve done it. The unthinkable, the unspeakable, the unwritable (about which I am currently writing):

I listened to The Jonas Brothers, and I liked it. Now, you may condemn me forever, as I had planned to do to my boyfriend when I first learned that he likes Miley Cyrus’ song “See You Again.” Or, you can do as I did, give the song a chance (as much as I know you don’t want to), and then like it too. Maybe it will become one of your guilty pleasures as well.

Now, if anyone asks, I’ll deny I ever said this. I’ll tell them I don’t like the Jonas Brothers, that “Burning Up” is the worst song ever put on the radio, but that I wouldn’t really know because I absolutely refuse to listen to it. I can be very convincing.

But the truth is…

Why do men like peeing in bushes?

I woke up this morning at approximately 7:39 AM, exactly 9 minutes after I was supposed to have left. My mom came up to my room, opened my door, and announced the time to me. Though I do not remember much from when I immediately woke up, my mother tells me that I apparently hopped out of bed proclaiming, “I just don’t know what’s wrong with me!” Unsure of how to respond, my mother simply said, “Okay,” and walked back downstairs.

Now, I’m sure some, or maybe most, of you have woken up slightly too late and had to go through the whole “getting ready in three minutes” routine. Well this was not the first time I had to perform this routine, but each time certainly feels like the first. I stumbled across my bedroom floor, trying to find the jeans I had thrown there the previous night. Upon discovering these, I ran into my vanity area, grabbed my electric toothbrush and slapped some toothpaste on it, jeans still in hand. Then, apparently I thought it would be a good idea to go to the bathroom while attempting to brush my teeth and put on my jeans at the same time. Somehow I managed to hop out of the bathroom with one pant-leg on, and prematurely spit in the sink (my 2-minute timer on my toothbrush had not yet gone off). Pulling the other pant-leg on, I opened my closet to find a T-shirt. I grabbed the first one I saw, though I later discovered that it has holes in the armpits. I slipped on my flip flops, ran downstairs, grabbed some pop tarts and tea and was off to work.

Work was boring and monotonous as usual. Scan, scan, scan. Attach, attach, attach. If you don’t fully understand what that means, I promise you don’t want to know.

However, since today is Friday, I was out of the office by 11:00 AM and off to the Capitol to meet my mom. We went to lunch at Capitol City Grille with my mom’s coworker and her son. There was quite a long wait, so we decided to skip that and sit outside. Well, today there happened to be a bunch of little kids with bathing suits on, apparently part of a summer camp, playing right outside of Capitol City Grille in some fountains that shoot from the ground. They were incredibly cute and fun to watch. I saw one little boy walking across the ground to the trash can, holding his lunch plate with both hands, the most intense look on his face. He was trying so hard to make it to that trash can without dropping that plate. He did have to set it on the ground a few times to reposition it to ensure that he would not drop it. It looked as if he might lose his life if he dropped that plate.

Then, a few minutes later, my mother’s coworker points out a little boy standing by the bushes. We then discovered that the little boy was not simply standing there, but rather peeing into the bushes. He was soon accompanied by an older girl, helping him by pushing the plants out of the way, and a younger girl around his age, standing there watching the process. For whatever reason, it took him about five minutes (or so it seemed) to do his business. The three of them began to walk away, but the little boy doubled back. Was he not finished? Did he set something down on the ground and forget to pick it back up? No. He went back to pick a flower from the very same bush he had just urinated on. Maybe his mom had asked him this morning for a urine sample before dropping him off at camp. Some parents like to start the drug testing early.

Eventful Evening

I had quite the busy evening yesterday. It was also quite entertaining in some ways. I got off work a few hours early because of a doctor’s appointment. We’ll skip over that part because it is neither important nor entertaining.

After my appointment, I went to my new sister-in-law’s best friend’s apartment to film her. However, before discussing this, I should mention the trip to her apartment. I was driving down Highland road, when I encountered a truck reversing down the road. For those of you who live in Baton Rouge, you know that Highland is not the safest road on which to back up, given its many twists and turns. This particular truck appeared to be some sort of utility vehicle. It was white with a little, yellow siren light on top, and a red and white striped sign on the back stating in big, black, bold letters, “CAUTION: MAKES FREQUENT STOPS.” However, I never once saw this vehicle make a stop, much less a frequent one. After my experience, I think the warning should have been changed to, “CAUTION: REVERSES DOWN MAJOR ROADS, DRIVES SLOWLY, MAKES FREQUENT SWERVES ONTO THE SIDE OF THE ROAD, DOESN’T STOP AT RED LIGHTS WHEN TURNING RIGHT, AND DOESN’T USE BLINKER,” but I guess that would have been too long to fit.

Anyway, back to this friend… You see, she applied to be on The Bachelor and apparently passed the first round. So the next step is to create a video of yourself answering questions provided for you. I don’t really understand how the casting directors choose people based on a person’s favorite color or hobbies, but perhaps they have some special formula that they plug the answers into. Maybe they stole it from Match.com. Needless to say, this process took about an hour and was quite interesting and revealing. I learned some things I probably did not need to know.

Moving on… Later, I went to a baseball park called Cypress Mounds, where youth leagues play. I went with my mother, father, and grandmother, and we met a few cousins, aunts and uncles there. While we were taking a tour of the place, we came across a small playground. Actually it was a fairly nice playground with about four slides, a rock climbing wall, some monkey bars, etc. Upon looking at this playground, I felt the sudden urge to slide down a slide. Despite the fact that the playground sign said specifically, “For ages 3 to 12,” I coerced my ten-year-old cousin Calvin to join me. He eagerly ran to the rock wall, and I followed. As we climbed up I asked if it mattered that I’m slightly older than twelve. He ignored me, and continued up the wall. We chose a slide–the swirly one!–and I told Calvin to go down first. He went smoothly down and waited for me at the bottom. It was my turn. I prepared myself for the thrill of my life, pushed off the handle bar above me, and kept my hands raised over my head as if on a roller coaster. About five minutes later, I finally reached the bottom, as I only traveled about 0.3 miles per hour. Apparently age really did matter.

Cypress Mounds contains a miniature replica of Fenway Park, home to the Green Monster, an extremely tall green wall. So, naturally, the mini version of Fenway has a mini version of the Green Monster. Well, for some reason, Calvin became obsessed with hitting home runs over this thing. He told me that his greatest dream (besides catching a 200 lb tuna, which has apparently been his life dream for two whole years) is to close Cypress Mounds so that only our family is allowed in, to have a home run derby and hit baseballs over the Green Monster. Mind you, this is actually possible since my uncle runs the place, but that is beside the point. So throughout the night, all he could think about was people hitting home runs over this mini Green Monster. He asked each person he met if they thought they could hit a ball over the Green Monster. And upon learning that Tim McGraw might do a fund raiser concert at Cypress Mounds, Calvin did not say that he likes Tim McGraw’s music, did not ask if he could meet Tim McGraw, but rather asked if we thought Tim McGraw could hit one over the Green Monster.

Well, I left slightly earlier than everyone else (I was worn out from my previous events of the day), but I learned later from my mother that apparently Calvin finally got his chance at attempting to hit a home run over that Green Monster.