I’m evolved. I have opposable thumbs. My motor reflexes are good. I feel pretty high on the food chain.
Until I pull out a tape gun.
Suddenly, I’m a single-cell organism. One of three things happens: 1) I work the tape gun properly but the tape crinkles and folds up on itself when I try to affix it to a box, 2) the tape retracts on itself and I can’t find where the start of it is, or 3) the tape gets caught in the jackass teeth and is mangled and shredded beyond use.
Then a fourth thing happens: I go ape shit and throw down the dick tape gun in disgust. It doesn’t matter if the tape is of the super-thick Scotch variety, the stuff I'm forced to buy at the post office because I forgot to bring tape along and they won't tape my packages shut any longer, or whisper-thin crap from the corner store. It all blows monkey. I waste a buttload of tape and that chaps my blue-collar hide.
To exact my revenge, I'm going to box up my rolls of tape, staple the flaps shut, and send that shit off to Bjork so she can make her next red-carpet dress. Give the fashion police my regards, 3M.