28 February, 2010

Little Bag of Horrors

I've been thrown a life line. I have been devoid of blogging inspiration for almost a week and today wasn't shaping up to be any better. I'm sitting at my computer today thinking I'd like to blog, but I got nuffin. Zip. Zilch. Zero. What a joy (and relief) it was to be tagged by Caz at The Truth About Mummy to reveal the contents of my handbag.

I have two handbags

Classy stylish hand-crafted handbag
I use when I'm looking to impress.



Grubby brown sloppy thing covered in beer stains that has seen me at my worst and may have carried me home more than once.


Logic (and dignity) screamed “use the nice bag!” but when I looked at the contents I realised that I wasn't going to get far with lipstick and a squashed Mintie.

My brown handbag … oooo … things go into this handbag and never come out. It's like a black hole sucking matter in with it's gravitational pull. If I dig into it's contents am I going to find the Starship Enterprise or a herd of bison which may have wandered to close? Only one way to find out …

Here goes....

Broken purse well past it's use by date. Clip and zip both broken. Hints given at Christmas about it's advance state of deterioration were ignored. (What have I got to do??? Draw a map?)

Copy of Clockwork Orange. Always handy to read this book on a train. Nobody wants to sit next to someone who is reading something as messed-up as this book.

Cricket Australia Official Fixtures Guide 2009-2010. (stolen) (never used) (seemed like a good idea at the time)

A lens from a pair of broken sunglasses. Ah ha! I've been looking for that.

Keys to the convertible. Ok, it's a Holden Astra convertible but it still rocks!

Lip Balm. The really serious stuff that you have to use when you have wind burnt lips.  Ouchie!

iPhone. How did I become so addicted to this little baby?? I once hated phones and resented having to carry one with me for my work. Now I get withdrawal symptoms if I leave it at home.

Head phones. Doomed, as I seem to break a set of these every few weeks.

Mints, because we can't go around with onion breath. (truth is I don't care about onion breath, I just like the taste of them).

Hairbrush. I'm not sure why I bother as I have disobedient hair that ignores any attempt to make it respectable.

Two Golf Tees. No idea why. One should be enough.

Memory stick. You never know when you need to copy international secrets you can sell the Russians

Lipstick. 24k Pink. Sparkly and pretty.

Various Stationary:
           Three and a half pens (two purchased, one stolen and the half … dunno)
           Highlighter (stolen)
           Two Pencils (both stolen)
           An eraser (stolen)

15c Would this have fallen out of the broken zip on the broken purse? I think so.

I'm a little surprised it's not worse. No spaceships and only a few small bison that didn't rate a mention. What does this say about me? It tells the world that I nick stationary. Oh well, gotta have a vice so it might as well be practical.

The joy doesn't end here folks!  There's more!

Caz has really made my day by flicking a Sunshine Award my way. WooHoo!

I'm passing these two gems onto my newest friend in the blogo-universe:

Mr TransAM 76 at Reef Adventures.

Mr TransAm 76 (AKA the delightful Robert) has bought much sunshine into my life this week by assisting me in extracting a chunk of money from the Government.  Yay for the good guys!

Come on Robert, I want to know what you have hidden away in your handbag.

4 comments:

  1. I love reading these - it must be the voyeur in me!

    Interesting that the mints seem to be the one common item in all of our handbags.

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  2. Have you tried time out with your disobediant hair!! Once again you have me giggling!!

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  3. Love it - and we must all rattle around with those mints! I can't believe that I only have one pen in my bag - normally I have almost as many pens and lip gloss {hate to get 'em mixed up!}

    Thanks for the giggles!

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  4. station e ry.

    you nick stationery.

    nice blog, nearly as nice as your mothers :)

    [lomblerp - a tummy rumble that might just go wrong] (what a fantastic word)

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