OPEN UP

Several months ago I purchased this scrapbooking tool from HSN. Not that it was something that I urgently needed, but I have this thing about tools. If it sounds like something I might could use at any time during the rest of my life, it should be mine. So, this came in the mail in a few days. I got a call saying that something was left off and would be arriving soon...and it did...the feet of the monster tool. In a few more days, the "handy, matching carrying case to keep all your crop-a-dile pieces in one handy place" arrived. I figure anything this massive would be best contained in a convenient place of it's liking.

One day last week, I found this 'had to have' gadget...under my bed. And it had never been opened. Out of sight-out of mind, people! So, feeling guilty that I had purchased this overgrown hole puncher and had never even examined it...or given it the proper feet...or let it rest in the 'handy, convenient carrying case'...I proceeded to open it and inspect my treasure.

Here, my friends, is where I entered into a battle of wills with the packaging surrounding the monster tool. The plastic seemed to be of such industrial strength that I think it probably is the same material they use to build the Space Station! First, I foolishly tried to pull it open using my own puny strength! Silly girl! Then, I got a pair of scissors and started to cut my way into it...yes, I started to cut into it..I TRIED to cut into it! NO WAY that was happening! The scissors just bounced off. So, being the persistent person that I am, I went to the kitchen to get the kitchen shears. Now these are supposed to cut through chicken bones and stuff like that. And this was a shiny, sharp, new pair that I gave Don for Christmas, because he can never find the other ones because 'someone' never puts them back in the same place. OK...let's get this baby out of its confining jacket. ARRRRRG! UGGGGGGGH! GRRRRRRR!
WHEW! there! I got a hole punched in it. A hole. After a short nap to regain my strength, I tackled the mighty package once more. Now if I push these scissors in the hole and then put the package on the floor and stop on the handle of the scissors, I think I may can make a cut a few inches across. There...a 2 inch gash. I'm gaining on it. But, I really don't think stepping on the scissors handle is the best idea...what with the blood spurting all over the room and all. 'Scuse me while I go get stitches! OK..now, I'm mad. I know all those things about letting your anger control you and how bad that is and it's true...BUT...the only way I was going to get this opened is if I was very, VERY ANGRY! Taking the unwilling...and HEAVY...it must weigh 2 pounds!...plastic into my hands once more, I slowly, very slowly begin cutting with all my might. I make it 1/2 of the way across. I can not keep going because the edges that have been cut are beginning to cut into my wrists. I hear that is a particularly bad place to cut yourself. So, I go to the other side and punch the hole and again manage to cut across to meet the first cut. HOORAY! I GOT IT! All I have to do now is just pull it apart and get my hands on its orangey goodness finally. So, I proceed to pull...nothing happens. People...I could not, with all my might, pull the two pieces of plastic apart. I was past angry...full on MAD now! I go to the garage and get my pruning shears. Ahhh, this cuts it a little better. I just have to make a thousand snips to get down one side. Now the other. OK, my little pretty, come to Mama! IT DOES NOT BUDGE !!! I am not making this up...it DOES NOT BUDGE! It is attached by a small ribbon of the industrial strength plastic to the back of the package with a grommet. Another cut through this and
FINALLY I am able to pull the tool from its resting place. Course, it will look better when I get the blood wiped off from my oozing fingers and hands. I take it and put it in its new home. Oh, yes, it looks very happy there.

This thing looks complicated. I know I will need some instructions. But I didn't see any in the package from 'that very HOT place we do not want to end up in'. I look around to see if I find any. and I don't. Huh, that's strange...surely they included instructions. Well, I can probably find some on the Internet. I just want to take this possessed packaging and get it out of my house. WAIT! there on the bottom of the package...is another little package in the shape of a triangle...properly SEALED TIGHT just like its companion. It is orange cardboard...and the writing is in yellow...REALLY easy to read! But, those words might be important. Find a magnifying glass...stand next to the window, twist my upper body, holding one foot against the bed to keep from falling...and manage to read...IMPORTANT! READ ALL INSTRUCTIONS BEFORE USING!...and inside that little sealed triangle at the bottom, lie the instructions that will tell me how to use this 'most wonderful of tools that will be the only tool I'll ever need' to do anything I ever would want to do with crafting!

Is this being filmed? This has got to be a joke! But, no...it's all real...very real! And, because of the severe emotional and physical trauma I have undergone in the last hour and a half...I throw the instructions out the door, onto the deck and stomp upon them mightily, with a fierce vengeance. And, lo, they remained locked inside their cozy, protected home...laughing at me with glee and making all manner of snide remarks. Seeing a broken brick lying close by, I commence to pounding upon it with the little strength that is left in this frail body. It bends, and squishes a little...but BEHOLD! it's seal remains intact. Fine...into the bottom of the garbage can with all the weeks garbage you go!

And I suppose that package that is torn asunder at the top and covered in splattered blood, and still holding tightly to its directions for use at the bottom, is lying in some landfill...where it will sit until Jesus comes, because it will never break down into any usable substance. And then, I think it will be cast into the lake of fire, with the other demons...a very fitting end!
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FYI---After regaining control of my senses, I decided to write the company that produces this tool and complain, in a nice, Christian way, about the trouble I had with their packaging. I also explained that I could not get the instructions out.
They answered the next day. They were "so sorry" about my difficulties in opening their product packaging. They sent me complete instruction for use. And vowed to "take into consideration" my complaints. Right.