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 enlarge | Brand: Epson
Category: Office Product
List Price: $8.99
Buy New: $5.24
You Save: $3.75 (42%)
New (68) Used (2) from $5.24
Rating:  22 reviews
Sales Rank: 13
Color: WHITE
Number Of Items: 500
Shipping Weight (lbs): 7.9
Dimensions (in): 11 x 8.5 x 2.4
MPN: S041586
Model: S041586
UPC: 010343838192
EAN: 0010343838192
ASIN: B00005MJS0
Availability: Usually ships in 1-2 business days
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| Customer Reviews:
Showing reviews 6-10 of 22
Mmmmm...paper April 3, 2008
Jeremy C (Chicago, IL)
3 out of 5 found this review helpful
This is good paper. You can write things on it. You can put it in your printer or copier and create new documents or copies of old documents with it.
Its really good paper.
You can also use it to make paper airplanes. Or for garbage can basketball.
Note: I do not recommend wiping your buttocks with this paper. It's very scratchy.
 Not As Advertised March 11, 2008
D. Taylor
2 out of 2 found this review helpful
The Amazon image of this paper indicates it is 108 brightness. When I received the paper, the Epson boxes had no brightness number on them at all. When I compared the paper brightness to some 104 that I had, I found that this paper is probably closer to a 97. I will certainly not buy it again and Amazon should remove the image from their site that shows it to be 108 brightness.
 JBVideos February 13, 2008
J. Bovill (Holiday , FL)
The Epson bright white paper is the best paper I have found , It is great for double sided printing , It is the brightest white paper out there , You can buy staples paper for less money but you get what you pay for ..
a good buy January 7, 2008
M. P. Carrasco (Houston, TX)
high grade paper, thick and smooth and works superbly with inkjet printers. rather heavy though. good thing it ships right through your door so you won't have to lug it from the store. a bit more expensive than your regular 8 1/2 x 11 but it's worth it.
My buoy in the ocean of despair November 19, 2007
Christina Ledoux (Portland Maine)
9 out of 14 found this review helpful
I don't think I am necessarily wrong when I say forever is forever. Forever is steel. Forever is constant unending. When someone tells you forever, it's supposed to mean forever.
When he told me forever I just naturally assumed that by not telling me he loved me didn't mean it was over. I mean, it couldn't be. Right?
Numbers can be powerful things. One gets very attached to numbers. Like for instance, his number. Over and over again in a banner inside my head. They wouldn't have made a redial button for nothing right?
117. Thats the number of times I have pressed redial this week. 117 times he did not pick up the phone and 117 times that he did not reply to my messages. I know the restraining order tells me I'm not supposed to call or contact him but...numbers are tricky things. It's such an easy mistake to make when your body is used to something. When your mind thinks of friends, and your body pleads for his touch again and can't help but to type the magic code out that once used to beckon for him to come.
I admit, riding my bike by his apartment 30 times a night is probably excessive. Leaving photocopies of love notes he wrote me on his girlfriends step was...harsh.
One of the things that drove him to end things was how secretive I am. So introverted and closed off. Well not anymore. Ever since things ended, and I quit my job, I have devoted my time to writing him my story. So many things to say, and only a package of this paper to write it on. I have mailed out every page written to his apartment, his girlfriends apartment, his workplace.
My only comfort now, are these blank pages. These dry parchments. Vessels. All night I sit, paper before me, waiting for my touch. The demons in my head wail and moan, but these sheets silence their call. My friends all abandoned me months ago, but this paper sits, waiting for my every word. The ultimate listener. The silent lover.
The pleasure I get from different textures and feel of inks and leads. The crumbly scratch of a #2 Ticonderoga yellow pencil, the smooth stroke of a Bic gel pen.
I feel like this paper knows me, other papers dont know the things I have written, wouldn't know his name that I have written down thousands of times while testing out a new box of pens. Other papers don't know my story. Every week, When I break into his girlfriends house I steal a pair of the new girls underwear. She has plenty. I sell them online and use the money to buy a package of this paper. I figure by the time I get through the rest of her collection I'll have enough paper stockpiled up to last me a while. Maybe even forever.
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