Thursday, July 18, 2013

Don't Even Get Me Started on the Newly-Shortened Strings of a Certain Feminine Hygiene Product

The latest product receiving an unfavorable review here at Val's Gripatorium is Great Value Heavy-Duty Paper Plates. Not those Chinet cardboard-type platters that can hold an entire Thanksgiving dinner. The regular, everyday, crimped-edge paper plates with a greaseproof coating. They come in a flimsy newsprint-thickness version, but that one's not on my radar today.

The plates work just fine. They are sturdy enough, yet not too thick. They're good for slicing onions, pickles, and tomatoes without juice soaking through while the fixin's sit on the counter to be added to hamburgers hot off Gassy G. And they can be used as our everyday china without dripping slaw or quesadilla runoff or french onion dip.

The problem is the latest package of Great Value heavy-duty paper plates. They are stuck together so tightly that it would be an upper-body workout for The Rock himself to pry them apart. I know that paper plates stick together. This brand has always needed some separation. But this recent batch is off the hook in togetherness. Every two plates are cemented together. Every two. No random stickage. Every two. It's not just one little corner of those round plates. A couple of crimps along the edge. Nope. These plates are like giant paper pita pockets, with an opening only large enough for a medium pickle slice to slip through.

I have to spin those plates round and round until I find the crack in their armor. Pry one finger inside and start working my way around the edge. The plates used to be attached by a mere two or three crimps, only along the edge. Like a clam shell. And it was a random placement every five, six, or seven plates through the stack. Now it takes considerable time and effort to rip them asunder. I think it's a scam. What are the odds that EVERY TWO PLATES are stuck together that tightly? Yes, I think it's a scam to make me buy twice as many plates. Some people might not even know that two plates are there. "Wow! These are really heavy-duty plates!" Not noticing that they are only getting half the amount listed on the package.

I haven't been this incensed since my Puffs With Aloe started having irregular or non-existent folds along the sides.

The paper products conspire against me.


  1. Are they made in New Jersey?

  2. And the brand of toilet paper we are fond of is nightmare to begin, when we have to start a new roll. I have taken to hiring a rat terrier to scratch and claw frantically...after 15 minutes of that, we finally have the roll started...

  3. It would be really annoying nor being able to pull these plates apart. I doubt I'd buy them again.

  4. Amen to the stuck plates AND the too short strings.

    RE: my whining about missing out on the three month summer vacation my educator hubby gets. I'm with you on all you said in your reply. Those who decide who gets what when it comes to appreciating and paying educators have their priorities messed up big time.

  5. joeh,
    I will have to check the label, once I sober up from my overindulgence in dirty water.

    Good thinking, Madam, with the rat terrier. The obvious ploy of this TP manufacturer is to force people to use an entire roll for each swipe, thus selling more and more rolls. I'm surprised they have not partnered with a fast food chain such as Burrito Belle to skyrocket their sales.

    If I was a fitness enthusiast, which I'm sure by now that most readers have ascertained that I am NOT, I would use these plates as workout equipment. Maybe even make my own exercise video to market on the counter of my proposed handbasket factory. I could call it "Platercise." I will not be wearing yoga pants. But I WILL be wearing pants.

    Yet apparently you're okay with the poorly-folded Puffs! What's up with that?

    Believe it or not, my biggest gripe with the treatment of educators is that we're not allowed to be real people. We are expected to never complain, never joke amongst ourselves to blow off steam, never defend ourselves in an attack, never swear or drink on our own time, never voice a political opinion, never try to help a kid by offering a ride or supplies (for fear of being termed a pervert), never suggest that some test scores are the result of student effort and not our instructional methods, etc. I'm sure you've heard it from your husband. Or maybe not, since I wear the put-upon, conspired-against crown.

    My district does not even want teachers to have Facebook or Twitter accounts.