They say you can tell a lot about a person by the company they keep. Unfortunately I’m currently in a stage and location in life where I don’t really keep any “company”. The closest thing to “company” for me is the Harry Potter figurines that stand around the rim of my bathroom sink for decorative purposes. You could argue that this is perhaps a contributing factor as to why I don’t keep human company, but I beg to differ.

 

Anyway, because of a lack of humanoids I choose to surround myself with, you’ll have to find other things that tell at lot about me. Thankfully, there are many things upon which you can base your perceptions of me on. My many split ends and unprofessional-length of hair is an option, so is my DVD collection. But the other night I happened to stumble across The Breakfast Club while surfing the channels, and while it did make me wonder what kind of horrific scars one would sustain from shooting themselves with a flare gun, it did prompt me to think of the scene where The Basket Case tips her handbag out.

 

You can tell a lot about a person by what they lug around with them all day, everyday. The old saying “you cannot not communicate” perhaps is best proved by the analysis of a person’s handbag/satchel/hessian sack and the contents inside it. There’s a lot that can be deduced from these objects and the fact that the owner chooses to keep them on their persons whenever they leave the house. These are the objects one determines they cannot face the outside world without being in close proximity to. In short, these are the things that one needs to feel at home anywhere. Like a snail lugging its house around on its back, so too are our handbags which provide comfort and shelter of some emotional kind. Plus revealing what’s in your handbag is really trendy on Instagram and racks up a shit-tonne of likes depending on how expensive your personal items are.

 

So I’m going to dump my purse out on to the couch/internet:

 

Here’s a comprehensive annotated bibliography of completely necessary items which goes into my bag that I insist on hauling around with my every day*. I’m going to try to justify each object’s place in my personal sack to myself.

Wallet: obviously. Because we are living in a material world, and I need to be able to trade currency in order to obtain goods and/or services.

Deodorant: because I don’t want anyone to know that I sweat. Ever.

Two plastic forks and a plastic spoon: because you never know when you’re going to be faced with a tub of yogurt or a container of fried rice without an implement with which to shove it into my gob. Think it’s superfluous? Try eating yoghurt with your fingers, then come tell me I’m a hoarder. I’m just prepared for the inevitable.

14 business cards from my old job: because you never know

Just one business card from my current job: because I guess I am a little underprepared for some things.

A plastic bag: to give my items a watertight barrier should I be caught up in an unexpected rainstorm.

A list of my friend’s siblings in the order they were born: in case I forget (because it’s pretty embarrassing when I mix Marcus up with Tom).

A spare key to my car which has the top broken and therefore I can’t keep it on a keychain anymore: because I can’t keep it on a keychain anymore.

A sachet of Vegemite: in case I get stranded in the bush without any source of Vitamin B.

Breast tape: to stick my clothes to my bare chest to hide my feminine shame.

Travel tissues: because when your nose is runny and you think it’s funny, well it’s snot.

My old iPhone 4: just in case I need to access my meaningless photos from 2011.

An iPhone charger: just in case I need to access my meaningless photos from 2011 and it runs out of battery.

An iPhone charging cord: just in case I need to access my meaningless photos from 2011 and it runs out of battery and I can’t find my first charger but I have a USB port.

A blue USB someone leant to me and did come back for: in case I need to save important documents, usually after hacking into the Main Frame.

A scrunchie with Santa Claus on it that my grandma made to match the Christmas dress she made me as a kid: because I have long hair and I like to eat food. You try eating food with a metre of hair blowing around.

White socks: in case I forget my other socks and I’m heading to the gym from work. Running in just sneakers with nothing between the soles and your footskin is awful.

Keys to Grandma’s house: you never know when you’re going to need a Tim Tam, and my Grandma has shitloads of the bastards.

A deck of Greek Ancient Lovers playing cards: in case of an emergency round of Kings Cup comes up and there are no cards.

Blue highlighter: for marking my court notes.

Five wooden beads on a loop of string: so I can be ultra glamorous in an instant.

A bundle of 12 pens and a pencil: because journalism.

Two plastic rings: you just never know.

Diary: because I like to keep track of my meaningless life by colour-coding my appointments.

Glasses case with my old glasses in it: in case my newer, magnifying glass strength glasses are trampled and I need to see things.

Glasses case with my watch and earphones in it: because the I’ll be damned if I’m going to try to run without Jason De Rulo humming in my ears. I keep my watch in there for security reasons. Those reasons don’t have to be rational.

A girls’ night out namebadge sticker: because maybe I am a haorder.

Five empty single-serve Mentos packets: because a kind-hearted councillor feels sorry for me for having to sit through hours of council meetings and throws me the free sugary treats councillors get on their table to keep my body from shutting down.

Anticol lozenges: because I work in an office environment in a cold climate.

One strawberry and one chocolate flavoured condom: in case I get into a hot and steamy situation, I’ll look so wild and spontaneous because I keep favoured contraception on my person at all times. Plus it will also double as a water carrier should I be lost in the wilderness. You always need to be prepared for being lost in the wilderness, and, to be honest, I’m a little curious about what chocolate flavoured creek water would taste like.

A “rump rewards” loyalty card, with one stamp on it: because we all aspire to one day earn a free steak by paying for and eating other steaks.

Three promotional magnets: because I can’t say no to the friendly faces at the court registry office.

Six half-used tissues: yeah, that’s not hygienic. They won’t be going back in there.

13 small, golden safety pins: in case of emergency tears in fabric/good try ribbon presentations at primary school ball games carnivals.

An A5 notebook: for ideas about my television series.

Two types of dermatitis ointments prescribed to members of my family: because I never think to go to the doctor and I have a tendency to scratch my afflicted areas when asleep/drunk/asleep while drunk. I get it on my fingers and that’s not great for handshakes.

A pack of “visiting cards”: this impulse buy was an aspiration to leave actual calling cards when my plans to spontaneously burst into the living spaces of my friends and families are thwarted by them not being there/pretending they’re not home. I have yet to leave a card, but when I do turn up unexpectedly and my victim isn’t there, I’ve be ready for them.

A fictional docket detailing the cost of each of the items in one person’s home mailed to me for promotional purposes: so I could question the drongo who estimated someone would own $200 worth of socks. I planned on weaving Rob Kardashian’s weird sock venture into my rant about conniving insurance companies. Watch this space.

A form stress ball shaped like a traffic light: because you should never depart on red. My dad actually gave one of these to each of my siblings for Christmas one year. They were given out back in the days when he would drive a lettuce truck. He’s a strange man.

Two nearly empty tubes of coldsore creams: because those bastards need to be nipped in the bud or else you end up with leprosy of the face.

An old hair tie container with a single outstretched hair tie and one of the two nearly empty tubes of coldsore creams: I live in fear of being without something to tie my hair back. I used/lost all the ties already except for this one which lost its elasticity. Even if it does a terrible job this will get me out of a sticky situation. The cream is in the case for ointment containing purposes.

A small blue mini notebook with a golden pencil: because I need to write down the deep and completely poetic thoughts I have while out and about. I might also be a little bit glamorous.

Four Zyrtec tablets: sometimes my eye swells up for no reason and I refuse to not pat dogs I come into contact with. The two are absolutely not related. Absolutely not.

A single pain killer tablet: I might find myself with a headache that’s painful, but not too painful that it requires two tablets to put an end to my suffering.

My tax return summary from 2013: if those blood sucking auditors come for me, I’ll be ready for them.

An astronomical bill for keeping my 20-year-old car running: it’s paid; it’s just there. I can’t really explain it. Maybe I’m trying to remind myself that even though my car is being held together with thumb tacks, it’s still one expensive ride.

The menu from the place that does Indian wraps: we all need somebody to lean on.

Seven pieces of rubbish paper I haven’t thrown out yet: because I haven’t thrown them out yet.

One bobby pin: honestly, it’s amazing I have this. It’s the sole survivor out of heavens knows how many. You get don’t question its presence, it deserves your respect.

 

*Ok, so this here is actually the contents of my bag a few weeks ago. I spent far too much of my weekend moving my glut of possessions interstate to be able to throw something together for my Sunday feast (of my words). This here is something I prepared earlier. Interestingly, the inventory of items in my bag has increased astronomically. So I may just serve up a round of seconds later on, depending on how crippling my writer’s block is. Grab a fork my friends!