So the recycling setup up here in Michigan really sucks major ass. They take newspapers, but no magazines. They take cans. They take plastic shit with a "1" or a "2" on it, but don't take anything else. And the biggest "Hey, eat shit, environment!" is that they don't take anything made out of chipboard -- no cereal boxes, no cracker boxes, no pop cases, nada, zip, zally, zilch, fluhboygen. Ninety percent of what the Crabbydad family consumes every day comes encased in some sort of chipboard box-tainer. We are one carb-lovin' family, dammit!
As a result, we end up dumping shitloads of this stuff into the trash. I might as well paint a giant portrait of Iron Eyes Cody on my garage door to say, "It's me, world! I'm the fucker who made the Native American dude cry in that commercial!"
Then I read about how some enterprising young "go-getters" at my old college have started this program where they take recycled paper and chipboard and make notebooks to sell in the school bookstore. The paper they use is printed on one side but blank on the other, so there's still one good side on which to write. Brilliant, I say! There's an idea I can steal!
Now, I have no fucking idea how one goes about binding notebooks together, but I did a little pokin' around and found a little something called a "comb-binding machine." "What the shit is that, Crabbydad?" you might ask. Well, fuck if I know, but it was only 40 bucks, and I'm bored with my life, so I bought one.
The thing showed up yesterday, I set it up, grabbed some paper (the old lady has stacks of printed drafts of her grant proposals and articles and other, fancy... word... things), grabbed one of the empty cereal boxes I've been saving (I'm crafty!) and, in about five minutes, created this:
Check that shit out! I like to call it "Honey Note Cheerios," 'cuz it's a notebook... get it... but it's Honey Nut... Cheeri... os. Hey, it's pretty fucking cool, you have to admit.
So, I plan on cranking these badboys out -- some for me, some for the spawn, some for the old lady. And I plan on customizing them, too -- Miss O will get a "Frosted Mini Wheats" notebook, Mr. Z will get a "Cheez-Its" notebook, the old lady might get an "Amy's Black Bean and Vegetable Enchilada" notebook -- the possibilities are without end.
The problem is, I'm going to need more recycled paper, soon. I'm trying to get the old lady to set up a box at school near the copy machine, or something, but she's giving me the "You're going to have to ask the head of the department yourself" line. That women is a task-mistress, I tell you! If I can somehow manage to get the paper without having to talk to an actual human, I'll be golden!
Who knows -- maybe this will turn into some little cottage industry -- I'll be "The Recycled Notebook Guy," and I'll ride around campus on an old fashioned bike (the kind with the GIANT front wheel and the tiny rear one) and I'll rummage through the trash for paper and chipboard. And I'll grow a really long white beard, that I'll stroke as I'm riding... and I'll wear overalls and won't bathe! And everyone will say, "Hey! There's that notebook guy! Boy, is he creepy. Let's get outta here."
This is going to be great!