TP.
I just got back from the Kroger for general grocery and shopping needs. Recently, in addition to other things, I ran out of toilet paper. The most on-sale toilet paper was a 24 count, single roll Kroger brand "Nice n' Soft." (Sidenote: It is neither nice, nor soft. A more accurate, though probably less successful, advertising slogan would be "Uncomfortable n' Abrasive.") Anyways, it was 24 count! Sweet mother! My eyes bugged out due to the sheer volume. But needing the product as I do (I'm tired of using old towels.... JUST KIDDING), I loaded this obscene amount of toilet paper into my cart and started praying that the cashier not be an attractive twenty-something. Sure enough, the shortest checkout line was a friendly, attractive peer. Is it weird that I felt like telling her I was not going to use all that toilet paper at once? Buying that much TP is like a nonverbal statment equivalent to, "Excuse me, while my rearend explodes." I just get conscientious about buying that much TP all at the same time. I feel like she'll make assumptions about my diet that are simply not true. I swear I do subsist on prune juice, puddle water and chinese food buffets! Honestly.
posted by Anthony @ 1:35 PM
14 comments
14 Comments:
Anthony-- *hilarious* that you are self-conscious about buying TP... maybe girls are just more used to having to buy embarassing toilet-related things that something like that wouldn't cross our mind. Really, if I was your check-out girl, I would approve of you being thrifty. :)
Good ol' one ply, always shopping for the best deal-- even if it means a chapped behind!!! :)
Interesting on how Claire's comment sheds light on the Borg-like, collective consciousness of women. "...something like that wouldn't cross our mind."
As for the purchase, *I understand*. A 4-pack is ok, but the 24-pack just calls attention to itself. It's a natural, if illogical inference. Buy 3 gallons of milk and it must mean you drink a lot of milk. Buy 4 dozen eggs and you must make lots of omeletes. Buy 24 rolls of toilet paper, and you must have the Incredible Hulk busting out of your ass on an hourly basis. Of course, back in Los Angeles, TP was always a point of contention, as you simultaneously:
1. Insisted that all guests (including our most frequent guest, Brendon "Stinks" Weethee) not use your bathroom, thereby forcing them to use mine, and
2. Accused me of somehow using far more toilet paper than you to the point that you considered further itemizing joint grocery runs and purchasing seperate packs.
It was almost not worth bringing up that we were low on TP, because it was inevitably met with conjecture about my supposedly cavalier and wasteful overuse.
Years from now, if I make it to 50, and you attend the party and bring, as a gift, a 4-pack of something quilted with aloe, it will be genuinely moving.
OMFG. Let me catch my breath. I can barely keep my fingers on home row.
This is a gross misrepresentation of the truth, Mike. First, Brendan preferred your bathroom. He told me. I think. Whatever. Second, even though you overused (let's not deny it), I usually remained silent, fearing that perhaps you had some major problem causing you to deficated 400,000 times a day. Finally, YOU DID USE MORE TP THAN I DID! I just know it! I'm still convinced (though I'd prefer not to have actual evidence) that you wrap your entire arm up to your elbow for each wipe.
deficate = defecate
Tears of laughter are streaming down my face as I read this blog. In addition, Mike's and your dialogue reaches the top of the funniness meter.....thanks for a grand laugh in an ordinarily dull day.
Aunt Mb
I'm proud of you for going to the 'grocery store'...
as for the amount of TP-hey, you gotta use it anyway, might as well be a bargain shopper and impress the cashier with your frugality.
Ok.. so I swore I wouldn't respond to any of these blogs but this one just has me totally outdone! What, exactly, have your parents done in your lost days of youth that would assault your senses and cause you to feel the need to be frugal when it comes to TP, of all things in the world??? Come on, is it REALLY that much more in the grand scheme of life? Especially for someone who will undoubtedly (if your mother's predictions are right) become a Nobel Prize winner of some sort! Money's tight here, too, but I'd be glad to spot you the extra buck or so a month so your 'lil "tushy" doesn't ever have to face "Uncomfortable 'n' Abrasive" in its lifetime again!
Ok, let's clear some things up.
Not everyone is so overly-sensitive to the point where they chafe at anything less than $5 a sheet triple-quilted aloe vitamin E baby softness wipes. If you are, you might want to put down the XBOX and leave your hermetically sealed bubble for a few minutes a day until you can tolerate things like direct sunlight and a mild breeze. So, saving a few bucks on perfectly fine TP is not self-abuse. This is not to say that you have to go for the transparent, low-end of the TP quality spectrum, but come on. This is how Rome fell.
And as for the consumption rates of TP between Mr. Mascia and me in Los Angeles, let me now suggest something that others might consider obvious: it could *appear* that *I* was using more TP because EVERYONE ELSE WHO ENTERED THE APARTMENT USED MY BATHROOM. I am not the only person who used my bathroom, and I can only assume that I'm not the only person who actually cleaned up afterwards.
To be sure, everything counts in large amounts. But let's put this in perspective. Right now, at the local Ralphs (the name of a CA grocery store), Charmin is on sale at 12 rolls for $5.50. That's about 46 cents per roll. So if I actually used another entire roll per pack (which I have already explained was a group effort), that would mean I'm scamming about 46 cents per month from the apartment.
Now, there are vague things and vague concepts. Who knows where someone crosses the line between frugal/savvy and cheap. I take a can of coke out to lunch with me because I don't like paying $1.10 for the soda with my meal (a 12-pack costs about $3). I save about 85 cents a day. Cheap? Maybe. But eating out 5 days a week, 50 weeks out of the year brings that savings up to about $220. Continually harping about TP overuse may eventually yield, over the same 12 months, $5.52. Don't like my numbers? Double the TP usage, to $11.
All I'm saying is, if there's a line, you've crossed it some time ago. So be good to yourself. Be good to your ROOMATE. Take a breath before you're having your children lace up their cardboard shoes with used dental floss.
Also, if we weren't geeks enough, the concept of being so upset that you can't keep your fingers on "home row" is freaking hilarious.
Mike, don't look now, but you just conducted a cost-benefit analysis of cheap *toilet paper* consumption!!! This, from the same individual who several posts ago reported that he actually catalogs yellow lights as time saved on his doctorate. Mike, friend... I am sorry to tell you that the prep time for your last post probably just cashed in a year of yellow light savings!!!
Truly funny post! I can't even imagine what the Mascia/Mike abode was like-- oh my!
One time I was in Target and in my cart was a large 24-roll package of toilet paper. (The apartment was running dangerously low and it only makes sense to buy TP in large quantities, at least to me it only makes sense.) A woman stopped me and asked how much the TP was. I told her. She looked at me and shook her head and actually tsked. She told me I should wait til it goes on sale, because she *never* pays full price for her TP. I told her we were out and didn't have that luxury.
LMAO. She NEVER pays full price for her TP. HAHAHAHAHAHA!
Yeah... I thought you might appreciate that comment. I think of that woman every time I buy TP.
Anthony, you've started a phenomenon!! Who knew that everyone was waiting for someone else to broach the "bulk TP" subject!
Well done, friend!
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