Five Men's Fashion First Impressions (With Apologies to Guinea Pigs and Rats and the Readers Who Love Them)

What better way to ring in the last day of the year (a day not often rung in, but let's go with it) than with the triumphant return of the Five Men?

And what better way to ring in the triumphant return of the Five Men (once you start ringing things in, it can be tough to stop) than with this terrifying, $300 lamb-fur satchel, first discussed by Ambika in this spot-on analysis?

Gah! This thing gets scarier every damn time. Let's hand it off to the always articulate men, shall we?

Brother, Age 12: OK...Inside-out cat?

Boyfriend: Whoooaaa.
(Two minute pause)
Me: Take a little longer.
Boyfriend: Hey! Maybe I just won't do this. Then it'll be Four Men's Fashion First Impressions.
Me: That's just as catchy. I engineered it that way so I could break up with you.
Boyfriend: Damn.

Father: (Scoffs) It looks like a purse made of a giant regurgitated owl pellet. Or if I was happily dreaming, it would be made out of 15 or 20 guinea pigs. [Editor's note: My dad has guinea pig issues. Maybe I'll explain later.]

Brother, Age 20: Oh shit...hmmm...(sighs)...umm...
Me: Well, what do you think of it?
Brother, Age 20: Guinea pig? (Turns to leave the room)
Me: Hey where are you going?
Brother, Age 20: What?? It's just really ugly.

Brother, Age 20, returns twenty minutes later, mumbles sheepishly: You know what I just realized? That bag reminds me of Cheesehead*.

Brother, Age 18: Umm...first impression? Shag carpet at a brothel in the 70's, converted into a bag.


*Cheesehead here of course refers to my brother's beloved childhood pet rat. We awoke one morning many years ago to find Cheesehead's cage was empty, and a confrontation with my parents revealed that Cheesehead had died in the night and been buried. My brother and I mourned and we believed the Cheesehead saga was behind us, but a few years ago my mom let it slip that there was much more to the Cheesehead story than she'd previously let on: Somehow, this obese rat had crept out of his cage and made his way into my parents' bed, and my father, settling in for the night...sat on him. In short, my dad popped Cheesehead.

I would like to note here that we have questioned both parents extensively, and have found no evidence of foul play. Also, to my knowledge, this has nothing to do with my dad's disdain for guinea pigs.

God this post got weird.