The Purse Theory

***Disclaimer***:  This entry is a little different from my other posts and is not really intended to make you laugh, but it's my blog, and I do what I want!  Also, read it anyway because you love me.  Also, I like pie.


"THE ONE."


What does that even mean?!

Every girl is looking for it: that perfect man that completes and complements you as a person.  That man that you want to spend the rest of your life with, and cannot imagine living without.

This is not a search to be taken lightly, and I believe there is another search that parallels our search for love.

It is another of my theories, and let's call it, "The Purse Theory."

Girls: stop and think for a moment:  What purse/bag/clutch are you using right now?  Do you love it?  Are you looking for a better one?

Here's the thing:  I think a woman's quest for the "perfect bag" and the quest for the "perfect man" are quite similar. 

If you're anything like my friends and I, you are constantly searching for that perfect bag that completes and compliments you.  That bag that you don't have to constantly switch out to match to your outfit.  That bag you will use until it literally falls apart because you love it so much.

Some girls are looking for the perfect bag.  Some girls are looking for the perfect man.

I, am looking for both.

I got this idea a few weeks ago while shopping with a friend.

Though I have thought this to myself long before I spoke it, I told her, "I'm looking for the perfect purse," and I proceeded with a list of my specifications:  "I want it to be black, leather, medium sized, two handles, easy to get into, not too heavy, able to put over my shoulder, and have some kind of funky detail while looking classic at the same time."

I also told her, "money is not really an object (within reason, of course) if I find the perfect purse, but I've been looking for about a year now and still haven't found it."

Then we started joking about how that's similar to talking about finding "the perfect guy" and how it's a very similar plight.  At some point after that day, I really started to think about it and draw parallels:

We're all looking for the right guy.  We all find guys that are really close to what we want, some we even date in hopes that they are, but then we realize that they're not quiiiite what we were hoping for.

Take the purse I am using now, for example.  While searching for "the one," I ran into this lovely little Michael Kors number:

...I don't think it could be more different from my previous explanation of what I'm looking for:  It's silver with a snakeskin-ish print, it has one handle, it is NOT easy to get into, and it's pretty heavy.

It IS medium sized, I CAN put it over my shoulder, and it is DEFINITELY funky, so it's not completely lacking in what I was looking for.

But what does that say about my relationships??

It's actually pretty telling.  My last relationship was a shiny purse that had hints of what I wanted in a guy, but actually could not be more different from what I know I really want in a PURSEun.  (See what I did there?  I'm so clever.) (See because instead of PERSON....) (...sorry.)

SO WHY do I keep buying purses that aren't "the one"?  Why do we keep dating people that if we are honest with ourselves are NOT "the one"? 

I don't have an answer.

What I DO know, is that I am not giving up hope, in either case. 

I will keep checking the purse section at Nordstrom's.  I will keep going on dates.  Because I know they are both out there and I just have to be patient enough to find them.

P.S. How Sex and the City am I, right now??!

Basically, I Should Be A Ninja.

I love salespeople as much as the next guy.

Ok, that's a lie.

I HATE salespeople.

Which is ironic, because I actually am one...and have been one since I was 16.

IN ANY EVENT.

There is nothing I hate more than being approached by a salesperson in any and every situation.

I mean, I know they're only doing their job, but I'm like, "look bitches, if I need your help, I will come find YOU, how's that?"

They're so fucking sneaky too.

I'm usually just minding my own business, shopping for clothes....and out of nowhere I hear:

And I'm like, holy shit I just scanned this whole area and it was totally safe where the FUCK did you come from?!

Maybe there's an underground network of salespeople and they wear heat seeking night vision goggles while wearing an invisibility cloak so they can get all up in your shit and then BAM you never saw it coming, but they're asking you if you need help.

That one question sends me into an uncomfortable panic and I cannot get away from them fast enough.

In reality, I say something awkward like,

"No I'm good, just stealing all your shit thanks."

or

"I don't know bitch CAN YOU?"

or 

"I hate you and everything you stand for please leave."

But in a perfect world, in these moments I would actually transform into a badass mother fucking ninja.

So they'd be all:

And I'd be all:

And then like:

and they wouldn't even KNOW.

Because I'm a badass mother fucking ninja.

The Story Of How I Couldn't Use Chopsticks To Save My Life

The following story is based on actual events.

...well, sort of.

OK, whatever.

It was a warm summer day...

and that's the story of how I couldn't use chopsticks to save my life.

Surprise Shark!

The Problem With Playing Video Games With Someone You're Dating