What’s In My Bag?: Broke-Ass Edition
For many reasons I am unable to relate to mainstream fashion magazines, notably because they pimp $400 t-shirts as a feasible item to purchase. At that point (which is usually within the first 10 pages), I slam the magazine down on my coffee table and leave in a fit of rage. On the rare occasion that I actually make it to the end, I often find that the last page is a feature about the contents of some B-list celebrity’s purse and always features ridiculous items like $86 dry shampoo for their maltipoo or spray-on leg makeup or a bottle of designer perfume that smells like ox blood and sandalwood. WHO CARRIES A WHOLE BOTTLE OF PERFUME IN THEIR PURSE?! Rarely are the contents of “real” purses featured – nay – never are the contents of real purses featured. So here it is, the Broke Ass edition of “What’s In My Bag.” Brace yourselves, as NONE of this is fiction.
What’s in my bag?
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-Zicam Cold Remedy spray in arctic mint. For the disgusting hypochondriac that sometimes rears her mucus-y head.
-Another bag, this one full of Hot ‘n Spicy Chex Mix, unopened. So meta!
-ELEVEN Sharpies. Why? Even I have no idea. Although it is now apparent that one of these permanent markers has leaked through the bottom of my tote bag resulting in a not un-hobo-like outer bag appearance.
-An entire pack of off brand menthol cough drops that also occasionally double as candy. Mmm, cherry!
-Three individual doses of Maximum Strength Mucinex Fast-MAX Cold, Flu & Sore Throat, because my inner hypochondriac apparently controls my life.
-A tape measure. I like to think that’s in there because I host a weekly bocce ball league, but I literally just used it today to measure a roof deck and have yet to use it to determine a tie in bocce, so who really knows.
-A pamphlet on Buddhism and a card with “Yancey’s” phone number on it, because I apparently give off the vibe to middle aged men that it’s perfectly acceptable to ask me who paints my toenails and then return to my seat on the bus to give me an unsolicited Buddhism flyer along with a card with his phone number written on it.
-Three different types of $1.99 eyeliner. Because even broke-asses need some variety here and there.
-Two beer bottle openers. Because what if one breaks? Or if you want to drink two beers at one time and have suddenly become ambidextrous?
-A half eaten bar of spicy chocolate from Madagascar
-Four pens, two glitter-gel because the seventh-grader in me has never left the building
-Eight lip glosses/lip sheens/lip sticks, one of which is still in the original packaging, also because the seventh-grader in me has never left the building
-A box of my business cards (that incidentally, have chickens all over them). They are awesome, and with them, I enter as many “free lunch” drawings at Chipotle as humanly possible.
-Holy shit, it’s an actual functioning pair of earbuds. Score!
After perusing this list and realizing that this is only half the contents of my bag, I am just now beginning to understand my chronic shoulder/upper back pain and the weird karma that often permeates my life. And as much as I’d like to clean out this godawful bag from the inner circles of hell, I just know that as soon as I remove the Sharpies, the spicy chocolate and the tape measure, some insanely hot dude will proposition me for which I’ll need all three. And then what. Either that, or I will mysteriously come down with a nasty strain of mutated flu which can only be eradicated by the use of simultaneous Zicam and Mucinex, and again, I will be SOL. So ladies (and gents who rock the murse), it is better to be safe than sorry. And better to have everything already on your person so if you need something, you won’t be forced to buy a new one. The only thing missing in my bag is an umbrella. But hot damn if those things are a pain to carry around.