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| "AMERICA'S FUNNIEST HUMOR"TM
SHOWCASE
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August /
September 2006 Contest Results |
Pimp My
Bag
By Joel Schwartzberg,
New Jersey
It's probably
safe to say women are more obsessed with their personal bags than men
are. Just look at the marketplace. Men have three to five styles of
wallets that are all about $20; women have a gazillion variety of
handbags, pocketbooks, satchels, and clutches that range from somewhat
pricey to really expensive.
Now that I've made that clear, I'm going to obsessively praise my bag. A
sleek black Trager laptop case that also has enough room for a weekend's
worth of summer clothes, it was a birthday present from my parents about
three years ago. But it was getting old and gray. Literally gray. Also,
the zipper split and the shoulder pad was shredded. It was time for
Poppa to get a brand new bag.
I looked for bags that matched what I needed. A key clip. A side bottle
holder. A roomy compartment without permanent dividers, and a separate
zippered compartment for the laptop. Nothing's more annoying than having
to open up your whole bag at the airport to excavate your laptop. Well,
except having to untie and tie your shoes again. It amazes me that I can
fit everything I need to live for a weekend in a single bag, but require
at least five plastic tubs just to get through the security checkpoint.
But this particular laptop case didn't exist anymore, as far as I could
tell by checking eBay, eBags.com, and every illegal vendor with a
fold-up table in midtown Manhattan. So, inspired by MTV, I "pimped" my
old bag. First, I cleaned out all the throat lozenges, obsolete train
schedules, dirty pennies, tissues, business cards, unpaid bills, mint
strips, flyers, and empty pens that had taken residence in there. In so
doing I found a crucial Costco receipt, which means I can now return
that variety pack of borscht which seemed like such a good idea at the
time
In true big pimpin' style, I cut off my ripped-up shoulder pad and
ordered a big, bad mega-Velcro replacement from Manhattan Portage. Then,
I brought the bag to a shoe repair place, where they tore out my tiny
split zipper and replaced it with a bigger-teeth version that makes a
satisfying deep-throated ZOOOOP instead of my little boy's ziiiiip when
I pull it. To top it all off, I attached to the zipper a funky
glow-in-the-dark Power Rangers keychain, courtesy of my son... which I'll
tell him about the next chance I get, I swear!
I'm not ashamed to say I love my bag. But it's not the only accessory I
care about. Did I tell you my wallet has a neat divider to separate my
cash from my supermarket coupons? And that my black leather-covered cell
phone makes a crisp clicking sound when I twirl it on its clip? I keep
my Video iPod in a Coach plush leather case that used to contain my old
Palm Pilot. I also have a red metallic sunglass case that pops open at
the touch of a button
Sometimes we have just as much fun with the things that hold, collect,
clip, and protect our belongings as the belongings themselves, like a
toddler who spends more time playing with the box a toy came in than the
toy itself
Once, I ordered for my wife a gothic-looking jewelry box that had ornate
medieval-like carvings and claw feet. Though I suspected she didn't care
for it, I loved it. Years later, she gave it to me. Now, of course, it's
filled with throat lozenges, dirty pennies, tissues, business cards,
unpaid bills, mint strips, flyers, and empty pens.
Maybe we men are indeed as into our containers as women are. We just
don't wear it on our sleeve.
www.jesttokill.com
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