Those are the absolute best
Um. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?
That green what?
I don’t think I could go to places like that.
I take that Trader Joes Bag to other markets and put that stuff in the Trader Joes Bag since it so much room.
Yup. The Stop & Shop chain for one. I love it – skipping all that extra loading/unloading is great (From shelf into reuseable bags in cart, then move bags to trunk) plus you get to do your own bagging. No more squashed bread or ice cream carton sitting on top of the hot rotisserie chicken.
I love it so much I do all my grocery shopping in that chain even though their prices are a bit on the high side. The convenience and time saving is way, way worth it to me.
WELCOME TO MOE’S!
eta case stuff
The bags I get from my grocery store still work for that purpose. My GirlDog likes to poop at least twice on a block-long circuit of the neighborhood. And then if we keep going, she seems to be done.
Pool green, apparently. That’s the 6 minutes I watched.
They put in the wrong chemicals and it caused algae to bloom. It’s been fixed.
I double-bag them, and haven’t had any problem.
Southern sushi? How does raw catfish taste?
Not to mention they’re great for doggy poop pickup.
And lining wastebaskets.
Not bad, but the bones are a pain.
Speaking of doggie poop pick-up: I have a rant.
WTF is with going to a pristine beach, picking up and wrapping your doggie’s poo in a plastic bag and then leaving it strategically and carefully placed on a piece of driftwood at the edge of the high tide line? FFS, just dig a hole in the sand and bury it! It’ll float out at the next high tide with all the fish poop and decompose. Instead, it floats out in a nice indestructible bag of shit and chokes some poor ocean creature.
I hate people.
ps. at least y’all are re-using the devil’s plastic bags - would still be better if they disappeared off the face of the earth. When I get my three wishes that might just be one.
I see the same thing at our local park: The trash can is RIGHT OVER THERE, FUCKWIT! Really, the laziness of some people just astounds me.
I’ve also seen bags hanging in front yard bushes or in small ornamental trees in front of somebody’s house. Not a lot, mind you, but they’re there. There’s a bag that’s been resting in the crotch of a tree up the street since last winter. The homeowner refuses to remove it on principle. Can’t say I blame him.
Yes, I know it can be a PITA to carry around a bag of poop while navigating a doggie or two. But that doesn’t give you the right to leave that bag wherever you think nobody will notice it.
Okay, stand back everybody. I’m gonna rant like an old fart, and for no compelling reason at all.
I was born in 1980, which puts me in “Gen Y” or “the Oregon Trail Generation.” Too young to be a Gen Xer, too old to be a Millennial. I feel closer to the Gen Xers, but my husband says that’s because I don’t understand them. He calls me a Millennial sometimes, and I take exception to it. Those kids are different.
And I’ve found the perfect shibboleth to explain why: capsule wardrobes.
Millennials are obsessed with being told how to do things “right,” and slavishly following those directions to success. All generations have their “life hacks” or “hints from Heloise,” but Millennials tend to see these things as moral obligations. You want to get into Stanford, get a tech job right out of college, and sell your startup for $500 million at age 32? Follow these instructions, and it will happen.
Anyway: capsule wardrobes. That’s the epitome of Millenialness. They want to simplify. They want to be pared down and earthy, unencumbered by possessions. They want to be minimalist in material things so they can be maximalist in their work and ideas.
So they need to be taught how to have reasonably-sized wardrobes.
Now I know how the Depression Generation feels about overeating. For Pete’s sakes, I was just raised that way. You layer. You coordinate with what you have before you buy something new. You buy in neutral colors. You get yourself eight outfits for hot weather, eight outfits for cold weather, pajamas for both, a swimsuit, a gym outfit, a winter coat, and something dressy. End of wardrobe.
One of these articles taught Millenials how to pare their wardrobe down to only 35 hangers.
I went to my closet. I have 27 hangers.
They do that at the Smithfield’s locations in North Carolina, at least the one in Wilmington anyway. Not being used to it, it kind of freaks you out at first but then it’s kind of nice.
Preach it! I’d rather people leave the poop than the bag, since I almost always have a bag on me, and if I don’t, the poop at least will degrade and go away after being hit with the rainbirds a few times. Damn, people are self absorbed.
With a top and slacks on each one! 
Like the people at the supermarket who can’t be bothered to push the empty cart to the cart corral just a few steps away. Instead, they leave them all over the lot, where they can take up parking spaces, blow in the wind till they crash into cars, and just generally get in the way.
Know what I hate, CG16? I hate when I go with a coworker to a sit down restaurant for lunch with only 30 minutes to order and eat, and they don’t immediately ask what I’m eating. I want someone to act like my time matters.
In other news my friends and family need to stop asking me for prayers. Most of them know I don’t believe it works. People’s cars get stolen, they lose their hamster, and they think only God can bring it back. With apologies to religious dopers: 1. Quit being ridiculous. Listen to yourself. 2. Do something about it. 3. Stop checking in to see if I changed my mind yet. Hasn’t happened in 35 years and probably never will in the next 35.
Religious Doper here, with a news flash: most of us know your hamster ain’t comin’ back. The fact that it was in its little wheel in the back seat of your new Prius when it got stolen only makes it more frustrating for you.
We really want to be able to do something to help. And we hate feeling helpless… oh, wait, hey, we can pray! Can’t hurt… unless we tell you all about it. Now if we’re smart, we’ll just commiserate. But some of us are oblivious (or just pricks), and we don’t realize how insensitive we’re being.
Hmm, I think I’ll secretly pray for Annoying Posters… Dear Baby Jesus, please send more Singing Fast Food Workers into someone’s office lunchroom. Thanks in advance, hi to your dad, amen. Bwaaah-ha-ha!