I get my Tupperware fo' FREE...and impossible pet names

I just saw something on Facebook that was mildly amusing: a pie graph that showed the breakdown for Tupperware use - with the majority of the time being taken up by, and I'm quoting here, "Searching for the right fucking lid." Storing rotten food was the next highest and finishing dead last with a mere fraction of the time Tupperware was intended for, was storing fresh food.

Here's a couple of things about Tupperware and me:

1) I think Tupperware is fucking great when I need it...provided I can find the two exact pieces that I need.

2) All the Tupperware I need comes filled with things I eat and/or use in my kitchen daily, such as healthier butter-like spreads, Greek yogurt and cottage cheese. The downside to this, is any of the following: A) Advertising for healthier butter-like spreads, Greek yogurt and cottage cheese B) sometimes I forget about the Greek yogurt and cottage cheese - but that's also how I know that storing rotten food in Tupperware rates as number two. C) Storing something like leftover tomato sauce in Tupperware will render it unappetizing for storing anything that doesn't have a tomato sauce base in the future - yes, you can do it, but you'd just rather not. For those of you who don't believe me, betcha twenty bucks if you bought some cottage cheese, opened it and saw a tomato sauce residue on the inside container, you're gonna return it. Bam. Gotcha there.

3) I've no idea if they even have Tupperware parties these days, never been to one, safe to say that I never will go to one - because I get my Tupperware fo' free. I have, however, dated a woman who loves going to things like Tupperware parties. Seriously loves it to this very day - last I heard. She may not have loved what a smart ass I was when she tried to get me to go to a Tupperware party with her once:

Ex GF: Will you go to Sarah's Tupperware party with me?
Me: Yeah, right.
Ex GF: Why not?
Me: Why on Earth would I go to a Tupperware party? I have all the Tupperware I need in that cupboard...
Ex GF, opens cupboard, looks mildly annoyed/disappointed/like I'm lying to her: All that's in here is a ton of empty food containers. You need Tupperware stuff - none of this crap is Tupperware.
Me: Semantics, what does Tupperware do that anything in that cupboard won't do just as well?
Ex GF: It looks a lot better, and it comes in different colors, has color coded lids...you have a bunch of empty cottage cheese containers - there's no color coding there.
Me: I don't need color coding - I pick a cottage cheese container, and a lid that says cottage cheese on it...
Ex GF: You're such a smart ass!
Me: Thanks, I like your hair.

Some things are never meant to last. I have had official/licensed Tupperware products here and there...but none of them were ever paid for, at least not by me. Actually, I have no flippin' idea where any piece of Tupperware I might have came from. Undoubtedly, some of it had to come from leaving a Holiday dinner and was given to me with the instructions to return said Tupperware item - when I can. I won't name any names here, but they are the names of people who are disappointed. The moral of the story? Never get too attached to your Tupperware - it never ends well.

The real sadness in all of this free/faux Tupperware story, is that on any given day, I search through lids trying to find the one that will fit the container I'm about to use. Absurd, at least when I realize that the majority of my containers basically having the same fucking writing and graphics on the lids and containers - you'd think that would make it easy, but you'd be surprised just how something like 1/16" difference is the difference between my food being kept fresh - or allowing it to rot beyond recognition. I don't want much in a plastic food container, I just need it to stay closed and not leak. Anything less and I could knock it onto my kitchen floor while I'm looking for the one that on occasion, causes an unpleasant odor to waft through my kitchen. When that happens, it never fails to make my dog stop whatever he's doing and come running to my aid. The second he hears the sound of something hitting the kitchen floor, he comes running. Every. Fucking. Time. He could be sound asleep when something hits my kitchen floor. Not anymore, he's needed. Like most of the times my dog thinks I need something, he's mistaken.

Would that I could, figure out a way to name him after this sound - but it would have to be exact, there's no room for error here people. It's impossible - you can't spell the sound of what you just spilled - or dropped, onto the kitchen floor. You can't pronounce it either. There is no combination of consonants and vowels that will work...but if there were, I'd be rich if I could teach people the spelling and exact pronunciation of the sound of food hitting the kitchen floor. Think of it - dogs the world over would come, instantly - no matter what they were doing, they hear that sound, boom, they're at your side in an instant.

It's impossible people - don't even try it. Oh you're thinking about the genius of this idea right now, hell yes you are, if you've ever had a dog run out of your yard or out your front door, all the while ignoring you calling them back. Stop and think about it. If you could make the sound of a piece of meat or cheese hitting a kitchen floor, your dog will come back. Your dog could be running off, all like, "screw you, you never let me run around the neighborhood, I'll come back when I'm hungry or when I realize maybe this isn't such a good idea or when..."

You/Me/Anyone who has ever been ignored by your dog: Thuh-whapp!

Well, well, well....look who it is, right here at my/your feet, looking all hopeful.

You/Me/Anyone who has ever been ignored by your dog: Good boy!/Girl!/Dog!/Doggy!/Puppy!

Don't try and tell me it wouldn't work, if it weren't impossible. I know better - and so do you, if you're a real dog owner. Hell you'd never even have to raise your voice to call your dog. Think I'm full of it? Consider a snoring dog in another room who suddenly bolts to their feet and now has their nose at the exact spot you just dropped an olive on - the dog is there before the word shit even came out of your mouth.(And it did) My dog doesn't even like olives and he's still there every time. Right there. Guess what else? He ain't going anywhere soon, because he knows something else is going to hit that floor - and he's a bit pissed that I didn't wake him up to tell him I was going into the kitchen.

It's okay - be a little pissed that you didn't think of this idea first, but imagine a society where everyone's dog had barely discernible names.

Neighbor: What a great looking dog! What's his name?
Me: His name is thhwwip, named him after the whisper of a sound that a tiny piece of lunch meat makes when it hits the kitchen floor.
Neighbor: I'll be damned - does he come when you call him?
Me: Every single time -.thhwwip! Good boy!