Because the word "purse" makes me feel a little vomity
So as part of Operation: Dress Like a Grown-Up, I went and bought myself a genuine Grownup Lady Handbag. (From a store, not a street vendor.) (For the first time in my bag-purchasing life.)
People, Internets: I am seriously, sincerely not a handbag person. I don’t even like writing the word, much less saying it. And I can’t imagine having more than one of these. But I do like this particular item – it’s more of a shoulder bag, or satchel or something, a dark red leather job from Fossil, big enough to hide a file folder containing my resume and have room left over for my Grownup Lady shoes (a pair of Franco Sarto platform pumps, into which I change when I get to the building, because fuck walking in those things out on the street, and who ARE the chicks who do that? These are costume items, people, not real shoes, christ.)
And but so the real trouble with this Grownup Lady Handbag, besides the fact that I feel like a Grownup Lady impostor carrying it, is that there’s nothing in it and I can’t find anything – voluminous pockets, zippered compartments, side compartments, clasped compartments, vast recesses of nothingness into which disappear things like my wallet, the hand sanitizer, the gum, the giant bullshit sunglasses case. I might could fit a whole person in there and not be able to find him or her.
Also, a couple of unanticipated side effects of this Grownup Lady program:
--It’s like a suit of armor, and it lets me be aggressive in ways I wasn’t before. For instance, my boss CALLED ME UP yesterday, basically to rag on me for being all annoyed and hostile in YET ANOTHER spontaneous one-hour megaproject-related clusterfuck of a meeting Monday, and instead of being apologetic and “Golly gee whiz, Mister, I won’t do that again!”, I'm like, "Yes, I was annoyed, because that meeting was annoying, and I'm sitting in it the whole time thinking about all the work piling up on my desk while I'm in this fucking annoying meeting.” It was awesome.
--It’s causing me to have a mild but pervasive case of The Doubts about what I’m even fucking doing, pouring all this time and effort into this job and getting another job (just like it but which pays more), when what I really should be doing is working on the book I started writing a year and a half ago. It’s a good book. You’d like it. If I finished it.
--I felt like I looked so cute this morning that it put me in a super-good mood and I felt really lucky, like something awesome was just around the corner, so I detoured and bought a lotto ticket. I will let you know whether that nets me the $101 million from the SuperLotto tonight! If I do, I’ll buy you all Grownup Lady handbags.
People, Internets: I am seriously, sincerely not a handbag person. I don’t even like writing the word, much less saying it. And I can’t imagine having more than one of these. But I do like this particular item – it’s more of a shoulder bag, or satchel or something, a dark red leather job from Fossil, big enough to hide a file folder containing my resume and have room left over for my Grownup Lady shoes (a pair of Franco Sarto platform pumps, into which I change when I get to the building, because fuck walking in those things out on the street, and who ARE the chicks who do that? These are costume items, people, not real shoes, christ.)
And but so the real trouble with this Grownup Lady Handbag, besides the fact that I feel like a Grownup Lady impostor carrying it, is that there’s nothing in it and I can’t find anything – voluminous pockets, zippered compartments, side compartments, clasped compartments, vast recesses of nothingness into which disappear things like my wallet, the hand sanitizer, the gum, the giant bullshit sunglasses case. I might could fit a whole person in there and not be able to find him or her.
Also, a couple of unanticipated side effects of this Grownup Lady program:
--It’s like a suit of armor, and it lets me be aggressive in ways I wasn’t before. For instance, my boss CALLED ME UP yesterday, basically to rag on me for being all annoyed and hostile in YET ANOTHER spontaneous one-hour megaproject-related clusterfuck of a meeting Monday, and instead of being apologetic and “Golly gee whiz, Mister, I won’t do that again!”, I'm like, "Yes, I was annoyed, because that meeting was annoying, and I'm sitting in it the whole time thinking about all the work piling up on my desk while I'm in this fucking annoying meeting.” It was awesome.
--It’s causing me to have a mild but pervasive case of The Doubts about what I’m even fucking doing, pouring all this time and effort into this job and getting another job (just like it but which pays more), when what I really should be doing is working on the book I started writing a year and a half ago. It’s a good book. You’d like it. If I finished it.
--I felt like I looked so cute this morning that it put me in a super-good mood and I felt really lucky, like something awesome was just around the corner, so I detoured and bought a lotto ticket. I will let you know whether that nets me the $101 million from the SuperLotto tonight! If I do, I’ll buy you all Grownup Lady handbags.
Labels: cubejammin', deep thoughts, first-world problems, fuckyeahstevenslater, way too old for this kind of shit anymore
posted by Gleemonex at 2:53 PM
5 Comments:
Okay, seriously? All that talk of a new bag and no PICTURE OF THE NEW BAG? You are killing me, lady.
And I'm sorry about the job bullshit. Ugh times a hundred. I'd totally read your book. Finish it.
Completely agreed with Amblus. I had no idea a Grownup Lady Handbag had such powers. And yes...you're writing a book? If/when you finish it, and you go on a book tour to promote it (where all your engagements will be, of course, standing room only), I will be front and center!
Awwwww, you guys -- LOVE. Total love. :-)
i am all for stopping things to complete books. my friend just finished her book about time travel and pirates and i read it all in one sitting and was super excited, just like i'd be to read yours! i needs the funnies in my life these days. so basically, i need you to quit your job. because then you could carry around a laptop and a pencil or two and some paper and put it all in your new adult lady bag and just write all day.
I'm just assuming that you didn't win the SuperLotto and that I will not be receiving my Grownup Lady Handbag, which while sad for you, I'm eternally grateful because the last thing I need is a damn handbag. My wife has enough of those things should I desire to start looking like a Grownup Lady.
In other news, I'm glad it enables you to take charge at work and not put up with annoying. I've been where you are, and I got out too. Best damn thing I ever did, work-wise.
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