Sentences with phrase «into shampoo bottles»

Second, we integrate unique recycled materials into high - end products, like turning ocean plastic into shampoo bottles.

Not exact matches

Combine water, baby shampoo or baby wash, and baby oil into a spray bottle.

Would you know how to turn a bucket into a seismograph, how to make a scale model of a DNA double helix from cans and bottles, or how to simulate a human eye with the help of a shampoo bottle?

Pour the mixture into a spray bottle and apply generous amounts of it onto your scalp after shampooing.

Three ounce bottles fit perfectly in these too, so if you plan to bring your face wash, shampoo and conditioner, the pouch is perfect and your liquids will be sure not to leak into your bag!

Gallons of shampoo concentrate deliver product through tubes into a wall - mounted unit where it is mixed with incoming water, but without sufficient water pressure to create a vacuum in the gallon bottles, it won't work.

Using these bottles requires the washer to wet the dog first (otherwise the shampoo just runs off the dog) and then hand - rub the shampoo solution into the coat.

It has a drain that empties into your bathtub, a drain stopper, two built - in shampoo bottle holders and a soap dish.

An empty shampoo bottle may change into an elegant flower vase.

«We decided to have a small alcove built into the shower unit to store shampoos and bottles, rather than having them cluttering the shower floor»

It went something like this: hotel check - in, locate room, locate wifi service, attempt connection to wifi, wonder why the connection is taking so long, try again, locate phone, call front desk, get told «the internet is broken for a while», decide to hot - spot the mobile phone because some emails really needed to be sent, go «la la la» about the roaming costs, locate iron, wonder why iron temperature dial just spins around and around, swear as iron spews water instead of steam, find reading glasses, curse middle - aged need for reading glasses, realise iron temperature dial is indecipherably in Chinese, decide ironing front of shirt is good enough when wearing jacket, order room service lunch, start shower, realise can't read impossible small toiletry bottle labels, damply retrieve glasses from near iron and successfully avoid shampooing hair with body lotion, change (into slightly damp shirt), retrieve glasses from shower, start teleconference, eat lunch, remember to mute phone, meet colleague in lobby at 1 pm, continue teleconference, get in taxi, endure 75 stop - start minutes to a inconveniently located client, watch unread emails climb over 150, continue to ignore roaming costs, regret tuna panini lunch choice as taxi warmth, stop - start juddering, jet - lag, guilt about unread emails and traffic fumes combine in a very unpleasant way, stumble out of over-warm taxi and almost catch hypothermia while trying to locate a very small client office in a very large anonymous business park, almost hug client with relief when they appear to escort us the last 50 metres, surprisingly have very positive client meeting (i.e. didn't throw up in the meeting), almost catch hypothermia again waiting for taxi which despite having two functioning GPS devices can't locate us on a main road, understand why as within 30 seconds we are almost rendered unconscious by the in - car exhaust fumes, discover that the taxi ride back to the CBD is even slower and more juddering at peak hour (and no, that was not a carbon monoxide induced hallucination), rescheduled the second client from 5 pm to 5.30, to 6 pm and finally 6.30 pm, killed time by drafting this guest blog (possibly carbon monoxide induced), watch unread emails climb higher, exit taxi and inhale relatively fresher air from kamikaze motor scooters, enter office and grumpily work with client until 9 pm, decline client's gracious offer of expensive dinner, noting it is already midnight my time, observe client fail to correctly set office alarm and endure high decibel «warning, warning» sounds that are clearly designed to send security rushing... soon... any second now... develop new form of nausea and headache from piercing, screeching, sounds - like - a-wailing-baby-please-please-make-it-stop-alarm, note the client is relishing the extra (free) time with us and is still talking about work, admire the client's ability to focus under extreme aural pressure, decide the client may be a little too work focussed, realise that I probably am too given I have just finished work at 9 pm... but then remember the 200 unread emails in my inbox and decide I can resolve that incongruency later (in a quieter space), become sure that there are only two possibilities — there are no security staff or they are deaf — while my colleague frantically tries to call someone who knows what to do, conclude after three calls that no - one does, and then finally someone finally does and... it stops.