This one, by My Standards will be brief.
I sometimes pay attention to the world and notice things.
Things that, if one were as weak as I, could be consternating to ones self.
Like the labels on commonly used products (eg. see above).
In no particular order, then:
"Heavy Duty Mayonnaise".
I was recently having a "Sunday Brunch" alone (as I often do - not Sunday Brunch - but alone -That being the subject, perhaps of another blog).
I was sitting at the counter, out of kindness to the proprietor, so as not to take up an entire table for four as a single customer.
As I sat at the counter waiting to be a second-class customer, I had a "good view" of the kitchen.
There I saw it. A roughly 5-gallon bucket - empty - and therefore likely to have a second life in some other (hopefully more honorable) use - that had the "Sysco" moniker diagonally in the upper left corner.
The label read: "Heavy Duty Mayonnaise".
Now, what the *#^! is "Heavy Duty Mayonnaise"? Can you lube your tractor after a hard day in the field with this stuff?
Is it even Digestible?
I met this guy who works (or worked - I don't know with the present economy and all) for a major food products distribution firm in competition with Sysco. Companies like this are the reason that all food tastes the same, no matter if you got it in a Chain Restaurant, a hotel dining room, a hospital, at an airport, or on a a ship or an aircraft. It is Fabricated Somewhere. And I can "Absolutely Guarantee" that this . . . well, this . . . "Stuff" was not made by Elves in the Black Forest in Germany, or any other exotic scenario you made have imagined in your past.
These outfits can guarantee - reliably - the consistent mediocrity that Americans demand (and that we are teaching the rest of the world to embrace) as well.
At any rate, when I asked this guy about "Heavy Duty Mayonnaise", he immediately knew about that of which I spoke:
" 'Heavy Duty Mayonnaise' is like 'Regular Mayonnaise', but more 'Heavy Duty' ", he said.
Interestingly, I had already surmised as much.
"Curiosity Killed the Cat", but at peril of my life, I Pressed On.
"Does it stand up to tougher things? (although I was having trouble imagining, much less listing the things up to which mayonnaise might be required to stand) Or last longer in the intestinal tract? Or what?".
And again, although feeling "Stupid" for doing it, I yet again asked if one could lube his or her tractor with this stuff, or a piece of heavy road equipment or such other machinery?
He then allowed that "Heavy Duty Mayonnaise" had more of the "Bad Stuff" in it than does "Ordinary mayonnaise", and was used by restaurants that knew that "things that are bad for you" really sell.
And "things that are really really bad for you" really really sell.
A "Conspiracy Theorist" then would have you believe that a consortium of cardiologists and heart surgeons invented and are invested in "Heavy Duty Mayonnaise".
Now, on to one of my favorites:
"Professional Toilet Tissue" (please see second picture above - at the beginning!).
One day, I had a problem at work.
This is definitely one of those situations about which one should relate that "A friend of mine had this problem . . .".
But well, it was Me. But I swear (or affirm) that I was not alone in this misery.
We all (bless our cotton socks) got food poisoning from a catered lunch. So much for "Safety in the Workplace".
There are five restrooms in my place of employment, but no one knows about any more than four of them. In this situation, a person with knowledge of the "Fifth Rest Room" would be "Golden".
I was, and today still remain one who does not know of the "Lesser-Used" restroom.
And the only people that knew the Secret Location of the "Fifth Rest Room" were not present or were (apparently) unavailable by home phone or cell phone. Consequently, getting a chance at one of the known existing restrooms involved a certain "jockeying for position" by people in no shape to make sudden movements or engage in "full contact" competition for the limited seating at this particular venue.
In spite of the above facts of the situation, some of this activity did ensue. And, as can easily be imagined, it "Wasn't Pretty".
But, also in spite of all this, and in such a desperate situation, amazingly I found a way into a vacant "Rest Room" - an Occurrence of Sheer Providence.
I quickly "rearranged certain articles of clothing" so that I could rightfully assume my place on the throne, and then did just that.
Soon, however, I was in search of the seat belts that clearly must be attached to this thing.
But, of course, there were none.
"Blatant Negligence", I said (possibly out loud). I was, of course, referring to the manufacturer of the porcelain on which I rested - when I wasn't flying around the room . . .
At this moment, in this situation, in this misery the forgoing remark seemed, to me, to be rational. Why had not the manufacturer anticipated this sort of scenario and installed - as standard equipment - something as simple as seat belts on this commode?
It's not like I was asking for a shoulder harness! Or airbags!
It's just that, in this condition, I didn't want to fly around the room!
Perhaps, someday, the technology will be developed to allow individuals to fly around a room in a pleasant way, and if this were to come to pass, I might well embrace it.
At this time, however, in this situation, in this misery I was Loaded for Bear and wanted to contact a lawyer. And, at the time, this too seemed rational.
I am healthy now, and I can tell you that it is Never Rational to desire dealings with a lawyer.
Never.
Meanwhile, back in the restroom . . .
I thought the Apocalypse was over, and gazed to my left in the direction of the toilet tissue dispenser. There was, predictably, a gray paper cylinder firmly mounted on the spindle of said dispenser, ergo no #*&$ toilet tissue.
Being one not to panic, I made a visual survey of the room. There - just out of reach - was a package identical to the second picture at the beginning of this piece.
A roll of "Professional Bathroom Tissue".
Now if anybody was in need of The Highest Quality Bathroom Tissue on the Planet, it was, at that time, in that place Me!
How comforting to know that in my desperate situation, I had at my disposal the finest equipment with which to deal with the crisis.
Although it was out of reach, through some compromises involving the jettison of some garment, I was able to secure the wrapped-up roll of TP.
I opened the wrapper, which was apparently glued to the roll, in under 20 minutes.
I, at about that time realized that there had been a building noise from the door of my quarters (This was MY REAL ESTATE! At least for now!). I started to see what appeared to be the business end of a fire fighter's axe just barely - almost imperceptibly - breaching the inside surface of the heavy institutional fire door to MY THRONE CHAMBER!
I worked the wrapper, and with each loud sound, the breaching of the fire door became less imperceptible.
Finally, the wrapper was off. But the outside of the roll of life-saving toilet tissue had no "end". Worse than a new roll of tape.
Where to break through? Under this sort of pressure, I understandably tore through the outer layer of this Holy Roll at some arbitrary place. The Holy Roll seemed to unravel in both directions, but then it was apparent that this layer was glued to the next several inside layers.
More tearing away at the roll, more splintering of the fire door to the chamber.
Finally, after tearing the roll to approximately half of its original mass, I found a loose end that allowed me to unroll the bathroom tissue and attempt to use some for its "intended" purpose.
Apparently, my idea of bathroom tissue's "intended" purpose differs from that of the manufacturer.
This stuff had the surface characteristics of #120 grit sandpaper.
And, as if that were not enough, it took about 30 linear feet of this stuff, per pass to be thick enough to "safely" do the job.
A short time later, I ran in to my friend in the food services business. He was, it turned out, smart enough to survive amidst layoffs, etc. in a nasty recession.
I related part of my recent experience to him (mostly the description of the "Professional" bathroom tissue).
He said, "Oh, yeah! That's just a euphemism for 'Institutional' or 'Public Rest Room' toilet paper.
It's used by restaurants, large employers, football stadiums, and so on."
"But why is it so horrible?", I asked. "They can't possibly mean to make it that way."
"So people don't steal it, and so people don't use the public bathrooms so much. Less cleaning and maintenance, you see."
It's all about the money . . .
Peace
