I made a decision. Neither of the bags will be purchased. The Vicki Lawrence is just not the right style for me- it makes me feel like I should be joining a weekly Mahjongg group and taking Black Cohosh. The lovely gray bag? Well, it’s a functional thing. I can deal with a flap, but a flap that threads through a ring and back around and well, just no. Trust me, it hurts deep down inside. (You should buy it, though!)
I spent my entire birthday afternoon shopping for a handbag. To some, this might seem like a birthday well spent, but to me, it was a little taste of hellfire. Handbag Shopping: Melted Tastebuds and Satan! My idea of shopping is scouring the internet in my pajamas until the possibly perfect item has been located. Then, AND ONLY THEN, will I venture out into the great beyond to fondle said item in person.
Though, it’s my birthday! Maybe, just MAYBE, I’ll find the perfect handbag! And Wito will be gloriously happy strapped into a stroller for hours on end!
I went everywhere. Two malls, 5 department stores, numerous boutiques and Barneys CO-OP, where I tried on these and almost threw the purse idea out the window completely. (And did you notice? Gray leather. Gray leather equals peaceful love, y’all. Write that down.) I searched and searched and schlepped Wito’s ass around town (who was an angel in the midst of hellfire, actually) and I came to a brilliant conclusion.
There are lot of disgustingly ugly bags out there.
So ugly, in fact, that I pulled out my camera phone and started taking pictures of the offenders. My day was starting to look up at this point, chuckling to myself while secretly snapping photos of fug. Whoorl readers will love this shit! It’s genius! This was a highly dangerous situation for me, as I am a Rule Abider. Last I checked, you aren’t supposed to snap photos of merchandise in retail stores and I do not enjoy breaking the rules, people. Jaywalking makes me nervous. Yet, here I was pushing around a toddler and snapping photos of merchandise while 213 sales associates meandered around. I particularly enjoyed my photo-taking approach, as if I was texting, but the glaring lights were so bright that I just HAD to hold it up right in front of my face to properly see the screen. Yes! Just texting, sales associates! Nothing to see here! Move along!
I finished up my illegal activities, met up for a playdate in the park, and somewhere along the way changed my mind about showing you the photos. Because I, Whoorl of Peaceful Love, am a kind person, and it could be feasible that one of the offending fugs could be the purse you are currently carrying on your shoulder. And I, Whoorl of Peaceful Love, would not do that.
(Unlike commenter #5, Sadie, who told me my bag was “fucking heinous”. On my birthday! The Day of My Birth! Of 33 years! Harsh, Sadie. Harsh.)
What have we learned here, folks? Well, I’m not sure either, but mark my words. I will find the gray leather bag of my dreams. Oh yes, I will. And it will be a glorious day.