Things You Can Do With a Laminator You Didn’t Expect

That laminator.

Sitting there. Mocking you. Between the juicer that’s never seen fruit and whatever that thing is your aunt gave you for Christmas. (A pasta maker? Egg separator? Portal to another dimension? Who knows.)

You bought a laminator. With money. Real money that could’ve bought tacos. And for what? To “preserve important documents”? Please. The only thing you’ve preserved is evidence of your poor impulse control.

Well, buckle up, buttercup. Today that dusty disappointment becomes your new religion.

Look, We Both Know What Really Happened

Nobody—and this cannot be stressed enough—NOBODY buys a laminator for responsible reasons. You saw someone laminating things on Pinterest at 2 AM and thought “yes, this is what my life is missing. Heated plastic pouches.”

The fantasy: Color-coded household documents! Laminated chore charts! Organization so intense Marie Kondo would weep!

The reality:

• Test page (diagonal somehow?)
• Another test page (worse)
• A coupon that expired during the Obama administration
• Your kid’s “art” (three circles and what might be a dog having an existential crisis)
• Shame

But here’s where it gets interesting.

Brad Needs to Learn About Coasters

Everyone knows a Brad. Shows up to your house. Grabs a beer. Plants that sweating aluminum can directly on your coffee table like some sort of neanderthal who thinks wood grain is just decoration.

Time to go nuclear.

You’re going to laminate coasters. But not just any coasters. Psychological warfare coasters.

The secret? Maintain eye contact while sliding it under his White Claw. Don’t blink. Brad blinks first. Brad always blinks first.

Your Phone Has Seen Some Things

That phone. Poor thing. It’s been through:

• The Great Toilet Incident of 2021
• Coffee Bath Tuesday
• That puddle in the Target parking lot (definitely wasn’t just water)
• Your toddler’s mouth (somehow worse than all the above)

And now you’re thinking—actively considering—laminating your own screen protector. Because you’re nothing if not committed to making terrible decisions with confidence.

Won’t work. You know this. Still gonna try. That’s the spirit.

Pet Documents That Legally Shouldn’t Exist

Your cat already thinks you’re the help. Might as well make it official.

Essential credentials your animals deserve:

• PhD in Being Better Than You (Mr. Whiskers, Princeton, 2019)
• Permit to Judge Your Life Choices (renewed annually)
• License to Scream at 3 AM (void where prohibited)
• Certificate of Manipulative Feeding Schedule Excellence
• “I’m Not Fat, The Vet is Body-Shaming Me” Medical Card

The dog? Simple. “Shoe Taste-Tester, Level 9.” He worked hard for that title. Especially after the Yeezy Incident.

Frame these. Hang them lower than your own diplomas. Establish the hierarchy.

Laminated Excuses: Because Lying is Exhausting

Adult life is just varying levels of not wanting to do things. Streamline the process.

The Excuse Arsenal (Waterproof Edition):

• “Can’t. Mercury is in the microwave again.”
• “That conflicts with my standing appointment with denial”
• “Sorry, I’m actually three kids in a trenchcoat”
• “My horoscope specifically said to avoid this exact situation”
• “Would love to but I already promised my plants I’d be home”
• “Busy returning some videotapes” (nobody under 30 will get this. Perfect.)

Hand these out like business cards at a networking event for people who’ve given up.

Crimes Against Food Safety

Some people meal prep. You’re about to commit atrocities against everything the FDA stands for.

The Forbidden Preservation List:

• One (1) pepperoni, solo
• That fry shaped like your therapist says you shouldn’t read meaning into things but COME ON
• A cheese slice (American, because irony)
• Tuesday’s meatloaf (might be Thursday’s, honestly who’s counting)
• That thing from the fridge that might have been an olive once

When future civilizations unearth these, they’ll assume we worshipped processed foods and feared expiration dates. They’ll be half right.

Karen’s Dog vs. Your Lawn: The Final Battle

Karen’s labradoodle (of course it’s a labradoodle) has chosen your front yard as its personal toilet. Karen “doesn’t see the problem.” Time to communicate in the only language suburbanites understand: passive-aggressive yard signs that will outlive us all.

The Nuclear Option:

• “This Grass Has Anxiety Now, Thanks”
• “Smile! Your Dog’s Bathroom Habits Are Tonight’s NextDoor Drama!”
• “We’ve Named This Spot After Your Dog. Rent is Due.”
• “The HOA Has Been Notified, Karen” (they haven’t, but she doesn’t know that)

Lamination ensures your pettiness survives the apocalypse. Your legacy is secure.

Wait, Some of These Are Actually…Good?

The Shower Epiphany Preservation System

You’ve solved climate change fourteen times between shampoo and conditioner. Cured cancer while shaving. Figured out why we park in driveways and drive on parkways. Then you step out and poof—gone forever, like your metabolism after 30.

Laminated cards. Grease pencil. Shower caddy. Your genius, now mildew-proof.

Actual shower thoughts worth preserving:

• “Lasagna is just pasta cake. Discuss.”
• “Your future self is watching you right now through memories”
• “The brain named itself”
• “Sand is called sand because it’s between the sea and the land” (this will haunt you)

Plant Markers for the Botanically Challenged

Every plant you’ve killed deserves recognition. Every plant still clinging to life deserves a warning.

• “In Loving Memory of Herb. Yes, That Was His Name. Yes, He Was an Herb.”
• “This Succulent Survived. So Far. Day 47.”
• “I Saw What You Did to the Fern”
• “Water Me or I’ll Die. This Isn’t a Threat. It’s a Promise.”

Nothing says “I’m trying” like laminated evidence of your failures.

The Downward Spiral Documentation Project

You’re reading this article about laminating nonsense. You’re already lost. Might as well document the journey.

Your Laminator’s Tinder Profile

Looking for: Someone who gets me Height: 15 inches (horizontal) Occupation: Enabler Interests: Heat, pressure, making permanent mistakes First date idea: Laminating our receipts from dinner

“Just a machine tired of being used once in 2019. Seeking someone who appreciates that some things deserve to be plastically preserved forever. No kink shaming.”

swipe right if you’ve ever thought “this banana peel sparks joy”

The Math Nobody Asked For

Laminator: $39.99 Pouches used: 5 Cost per laminated item: $8 That fortune cookie fortune reading “Help! I’m trapped in a fortune cookie factory!”: Priceless Your dignity: Missing, presumed dead

Here’s What’s Really Going On

This isn’t about laminating. Never was. It’s about control. In a world where everything expires, degrades, disappoints—you can make a french fry eternal. Is it useful? No. Is it sane? Absolutely not. But that fry will outlive us all, and there’s something beautiful about that.

Or deeply disturbing. Same difference.

The Inevitable Conclusion

You’re getting up right now. Don’t pretend you’re not. You’re going to that closet. You’re going to dig out that laminator from behind the exercise ball you use as a clothing rack.

The next four hours? Blur. You’ll emerge with:

• Laminated parking tickets (evidence!)
• Preserved gum wrappers (art!)
• Waterproof to-do lists (ironic!)
• That business card from someone named Derek (who’s Derek?)
• A single Goldfish cracker (museum quality)

Your family will find you wild-eyed, surrounded by plastic-encased nonsense, muttering about “archival quality” and “UV protection.”

This is your life now.

Accept it. Embrace it. Laminate the acceptance letter.

Just remember the sacred rules:

• Don’t laminate currency (prison orange clashes with everything)
• Don’t laminate body parts (that ER story isn’t worth it)
• Don’t laminate living things (obviously?)
• Don’t laminate other people’s property (without asking)

Everything else? Fair game. God’s plan. The universe’s will.

Go. Your destiny awaits. It smells like melting plastic and questionable choices.

This article assumes no liability for broken marriages, environmental destruction, or the fact that you’re definitely going to laminate this article. The author would say they’re disappointed, but honestly? They’re impressed. Please laminate responsibly. Or don’t. You do you.