This is my purse. I have talked about how I keep a bunch of stuff in my bag at any given point, but let me take a moment on this chilled out Sunday to stress that: I am a big advocator of keeping as much as possible on your person at one time. On New Years Eve? I had a kobe beef cheeseburger, a bottle of champagne, a bubbler, a sack of weed, three packs of cigarettes, a few lip glosses and a box of condoms in this beat up Versace. (Yeah, I know. I party like a fat and hopeful 22-year old boy.)

This is the way you get to live if you are a woman. Yes, we pay seven dollars a month to shove cotton sticks up our vaginas and that sucks, but you want to know what else we get to do? Reach in to a sack and pull out that half of a burrito we were saving for later. You ever seen a man stick half a burrito in his jean pocket? No. If you have, I hope you stood up and left cause homeboy was crazy. 

I’ve been doing a better job about digging out the receipts, but you can bet that I’ll always be keeping a fresh set of hoop earrings,  extra headphones, a mini Snickers I stole from the office, my pepper spray, a notebook, three or four pens, a pack of smokes, a small bottle of Tabasco sauce that I stole from a room service tray once and more bobby pins than you’d need to perfect every prom up-do in the world. 

I love you, purse. You are my best friend.