Given my transparent need to keep stuff, it probably comes as no surprise that I love a clear tub with a lid as long as it’s not a coffin and makes a satisfying belch when expelling air. Who cares what the contents is or what the packaging was originally meant for as long as I can see and slosh around the bloated stuff inside. Too bad nobody makes a completely transparent car because I would be the first to sign up for one, though I would be too cheap to buy the sunroof option.
Tupperware branded bins are dandy indeed but typically too fancy for my plebeian need or the way I feed. I buy highly processed and pasteurized red tagged deli meats that usually live in the clearance corners of Costco for my hill-people hunger. Of course the skinny limp lids don’t Frisbee fly as well as the heavy duty stuff for real or clay pigeon practice, but they are fine to keep nails in or anything else that drops out of my toe clippers.
Anyway terrific ‘T-ware’ comes in too many colors for my pale tailed palette and sorely poorly achromatic attitude. Last month’s leftovers stashed in the back of our furry fridge are typically molded-over in green, red, and blue so why do I need the outside of the containers decorated in rainbow colors too? On the off chance I ever have a pyramid marketing party at this ant hill, I want see-through stuff to view the age of the victual kibble n’ bits that grabsters take home as parting gifts in their top-notched ‘Tupp’.
Though I have to admit that I do miss the pleasure of goosing a burp out of those fancy brand tubbies stacked high in the cubbies. Next to the joy from my whole tank-topped clan joined arm and pit around fire and spit belching planks from the Bill of Rights, in the end nothing’s more fun than forcing air out of a small flexible container. Just ask any lucky lug who dare hugged my young swaddled spud after I made her into a double bubble dose of a sinner by downing an organic broccoli and green bean milkshake dinner!