A lot of blogs and magazines have a section called something like "What's in your bag?" in which famous people or fashion bloggers divulge the contents of their makeup bag or purse. I always love reading these (handbag voyeurism is the best), but I've been a bit nervous about writing one myself ever since I had to do a similar exercise in a writing class, and when I dumped my purse out on the desk--actually it ended up taking two desks to hold the aggregate mass--I (and my classmates) found out that I carry one dirty sock (that's right. not two. one.) and enough tampons to last me clear to menopause.
But today is a new day, my friends, and since I'm too lazy to be creative and make a real post, I present to you the contents of my purse:
-A stick of Japanese gum my brother bought online
-One puka shell
-A headband from Claire's, never worn (to see why, read this)
-A crumpled writing assignment that I couldn't find when it was due last week (damnit)
-Enough Clif bars to feed a small village (all with one bite out of them--I always forget that they're gross)
-Like seven hundred bobby pins
-A map of the Pacific Islands
-Mints
-String cheese. Old string cheese. Oh my god.
-A notebook
-Pens
-One tampon (I'm so much more sensible in my old age)
-An old chapstick with sand in it
-Hair elastics
-A Catholic prayer card (I swear I'm not joking)
-Every receipt I've amassed since 2003
-One of those miniature pencils they give you to take tests when you forget yours
-My wallet (duh)
-A really cute compact
-A lollipop
Whew! That wasn't so bad. And just in case you're wondering, for that writing class we had to choose one item from our personal stash and write a poem about it. I bet you can't guess what I chose (and I wrote this like four years ago so forgive the overall suckiness and "interesting" line breaks):
One Dirty Sock
There’s one dirty sock
At the bottom of my purse.
Black with pink flowers and
Stiff with dried sweat.
Sometimes
When I pull out my keys
The sock comes out too
Hanging from the metal ring
Like a skewered, smelly carcass.
People judge me now
But one day
There will be a scavenger hunt
With a million dollar prize
And “crusty black sock”
Will be on the list
Or maybe a horrific accident
Occurs, and someone needs a
Tourniquet right away or
They’ll lose the leg,
And I’ll be there with my sock
Or maybe a sorcerer will
Come to town
And make a potion for
Eternal youth and the
One missing ingredient
Is a smelly sock and that’s when
Everyone will wish
They were the weird
Girl who carries a dirty sock
In her purse.
13 comments:
I wish the contents of my bag were so exotic and/or mortifying. I tend to get frustrated if there's so much stuff in there that it takes more than 10 seconds to unwind my mp3 headphones from around the mass of it (bobbie pins are especially a pain).
Sock poems rule.
I am sure you have seen this blog. It is pretty awesome, although my French is too rusty to really read it.
I might have to go ahead and empty my purse and do one of these posts, but mine is gonna be soooo boring! Since nobody else has asked: "WHY was a sock in your bag?!" I need to know!
One word. Floss.
I have a floss problem. I must always have floss. If I have no floss, my life is one big black ball of misery.
So I was driving through Wyoming a little over a week ago (on my way out to Chicago) and, as usual, eating Pemmican beef jerky (gross, perhaps, but check the ingredients - it is by far one of the least heinous truck-stop fast foods readily available in the Intermountain West, plus one serving has only 80 calories), and my teeth were filling up with jerky fibers.
Floss. Need. Floss. I could hardly concentrate on driving, the need for floss was so great. One handedly, I rifled through my purse. No floss. I stopped for gas - no floss at the station mart. No floss at the mart down the road. In desperation, I used the worn label of an old tea towel to rid my teeth of masticated dried cow. Resolved to get my travel protein from sunflower seeds from that point forth.
I reached Chicago. The floss emerged, miraculous, from its lair in the labyrinthine inner recesses of my purse. My purse conceals a wormhole into another universe, where rolls of floss, tampons, half-used lipsticks, and ballpoint pens all life happy, useful, self-centered lives.
I see them in my head. They mock me.
Samida--
Yes, that is a great question. I wish I knew why there was a sock in my bag. I have absolutely no idea.
look what I found in my bag!
That poem was deeply inspirational...
Wow, that's some interesting stuff in there! How old was that string cheese?? Too funny about the Cliff bars, I have ones with bites out of them sitting in ziploc baggies in my kitchen pantry b/c of the same reason!
I have been meaning to post one of these on my blogs...I think I may do it later today. My bag weighs about 50 pounds so there must be good stuff in there.
Omg you must have a huge bag explain what this bag looks like pleasee
haahahahahaha. i loved the poem and sock story.
the other day at rehearsal i got really excited because i thought i had a quarter in my pocket, but i pulled it out and it was just a really big, hard piece of lint. sweeeet.
I have mega crap in my bag too. Great post
Yeah, girly, well I love your blog too. It's pretty amazing, so it's gotta go on the blogroll, ya know?
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