Man Sac

February 9, 2007 at 10:07 PM | Posted in Notes on Society | 1 Comment
  I am not a metrosexual.  Not a homosexual.  Not a bisexual.  I think.  Not a pan-sexual.  Not a xenosexual, either.  I’m just a regular, flaming, hard-core heterosexual.  Don’t judge me.
  But with age comes the bitter realization that all of these things you have done before, the old ways, the previous style, the former life–these things may no longer apply to a new and improved you.  The changed man.
  I’ve always been a loser. 
  –Of things.  Keys, wallet, cell phone, keys again.  Money.  Check book.  Where *Did* I park the car?  Pocket knife.  Several Pocket knives, actually.  Oh, shit, did I have the kids with me?  Oops.  It seems only right, with all of this going on that I would start smoking, and therefore pickup a few more belongings, like a lighter and cigars.  Add a flash drive, which I can’t live without.  Uh. . .getting older, and need reading glasses.  My business cards, too.  Oh, and the Bluetooth for the phone.  Don’t forget your keys, two separate sets.
  This is too much shit to carry around in my pockets.  And it’s winter, when I have more pockets–what’s going to happen in the spring and summer when I am back down to 4 or 5 pockets, including a shirt pocket?  Provided I even wear a shirt.  Or pants.
  Well, I can put my wallet in my back pocket, keys, money and pocket knife in my front pocket, and despite the fact that it never works and always gets hung up on shit, I can go ahead and try once more to hang my cell phone off my belt.  Reading glasses in my shirt pocket.  Cigar case in the other back pocket to balance out the wallet, and lighter in the other front.
  Blue tooth in one of those pockets.  It doesn’t matter which; it’ll fall out and get lost on the ground as soon as I reach in for something else.  Then there’s my business card case, and my flash drive.  I could hang that around my neck, but that is way more chic than I really care to be.
  And even if this works, I am bulky and bulgy and uncomfortable.  You see my dilema–I need a tampon and have no where to carry them.
I needed. . . a man-purse.
  I looked at actual purses in the store.  Some too big, some too little, some to pink, but practically all were too effeminate.  I needed–
  I needed help.  "Excuse me, miss?"
  "Can I help you?"
  "Yes.  Where are the lesbian hand bags?"  I was directed to the Lilith Fair Collection, a small selection of earth-tone and camoflauge bags, with a little rainbow on them.  Nice.  But not quite what I was looking for.
  I ended up in luggage.  I found a small overnight bag and it looks like a small brief case.  It was either that or a fanny pack, and I know how fashion trends follow me; I do not want to be responsible for bring those back.
  But this thing is nice.  It zips open and lays flat, like a briefcase, and it is about the size of one of those bags to fit a large print Bible in, like the one I stole from the last hotel I stayed in.  I can zip up the sides and leave the top open, so it is like a purse, and I can lay it flat or stand it up.  I can push it down the stairs like a slinky.  It has two pockets inside, to divide shit up in, making it just hard enough to find things, and a pocket on the outside that I would use for my phone, wallet and keys if I had any sense of consistency.
  I wondered, just how much stuff can I cram into this thing?  I can fit both feet in it.  I stood up, fell over, and took them out.  Hmmm.  I had more shit that I *could* put in it, but was *essential*?
  I added a spray can of nacho cheese, a cordless drill, and some porn.  Now my bag is complete–and no way can it be mistaken for a purse.  It is a man sac.  It might as well have hair on it.

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  1. "It might as well have hair on it"
    everything in our flat has hair on it, whatchoo talkin\’ \’bout?
    everybody knows we have a dog, even if we never mention him.
    oh, and it\’s a cute purse. er.. I mean, man sac

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