The ODNT Letters: Schticking it to the Man


At the beginning of the summer, I ordered myself a present. You can’t go wrong with an As Seen As TV product, right? Of course, right. But I had a little problem with mine recently, so NATURALLY I wrote a letter.

Check out this wonder product. And watch ’til the end. How could I NOT order it? (Sorry for the gratuitous Chandler Bing-ism.) 

These people are hilarious … so I expect a good response. And, as soon as I get one, you know you’ll see it here.

To the Good People of the Schticky Corporation,

My family ordered your three-pack of Schticky products at the beginning of the summer. We have an excessively sheddy cat (named Milo, if that’s necessary for your damage report) and, unless we can all agree that orange fur should coat the surfaces of everything in our home, we are absolutely dependent on your product. The Schticky has set us free!

Anyway, everything was rolling along great (pardon the pun) until the white plastic arm on the mid-size model cracked. (This is the exact moment in my letter when you can hear the needle scratch across the record.) You can imagine our despair! I can’t live in a world coated with orange cat fur! And (furthermore) I can’t be expected to roll the aqua blue cylinder manually over our sofa cushions. This isn’t 1983!

All of this said, I’m hoping that you have a heart. With all the pain and suffering on our planet, my problem is but a small blip on the radar. Still, I seek customer restitution. Thus, I am writing to request that you replace this mid-size model … or at least its white plastic roller … so that I can go back to the blissful experience of pet hair removal with your product. (Picture Snow White, cartoon bluebirds and whistling. Lots of whistling.)

Your youtube commercial says to me that you not only have a heart but also a funny bone so I’m hoping we can take care of this problem quickly and quietly without having to alert the media or the court system. I maintain a humor blog (at least I HOPE it’s humor) at http://olddognewtits.com and am posting this letter there. I would LOVE to be able to post your response. Oh, and also to get a new Schticky. Until then, I’ll be the one living under a pile of cat fur.

Look forward to hearing from you,

Michele

P.S. Might I submit the following ad slogan to your most excellent company? … “Takes a Licking, But Keeps on Schticking!” Yes, yes. I know. You LOVE it and want to know if I’m available for hire. The answer is YES. I am always available for hire … when it’s for something I deem worthy of my time. Go, Schticky!

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The Jud & Bill Prize Package – She is Finally Revealed!


Remember Amy Ragg, our winner of the Jud & Bill Episode 11 Contest?

Well, the hardworking people here at ODNT mailed off her glorious prize package this week … and we just received notification that she has received it!

hardworking /härd·wər’·kiNG/ cheese-eating, oversleeping, always looking for a shortcut to get the job done

people /pē’·pəl/ ODNT herself and her two kids, undoubtedly violating the child labor laws of this country 

glorious /glô’··əs/ something you would give your co-worker as a gag gift

And, in the interest of building suspense and keeping the surprise for Amy, we didn’t want to reveal the contents of this valuable prize package … until now.

suspense /sə·spens’/ a cheap and lazy grab at another blog post

valuable /ˈval·yo͞o’·ə·bəl/ worth at least the cost of the envelope and stamp that got it there

* * * * * * * * * * 

So, here’s what Amy got in the mail today. Hold on to your hats, my friends.

First, there was the letter. And, with the bottomless expense account afforded to me here at ODNT, I used only the finest stationery.

bottomless /ˈbä’·təm·les/ whatever could be scraped together from the recesses of her purse

stationery /stā’·SHə·ne·rē/ loose leaf shoved in her girl’s bedroom drawer next to a ceramic kitty

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Then, as the letter promised and because we are all about it here at ODNT, I included some of the finest cheeses I could get my hands on here in the Southeastern Region of these United States. For the record, they are considered a delicacy in this household.

finest /fīn’·est/ edible, suitable for mailing, within the budgetary limits

delicacy /del’·i··sē/ something requested for inclusion in a Christmas stocking, best enjoyed with Wheat Thins

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And finally, my favorite part of the prize package. My girl (dubbed ODNT Jr. by my pal, Mel at According to Mags) took the time to depict Jud & Bill in watercolor, customizing it with a special message for our winner.

watercolor /ˈwô’·tər··lər/ bits of paperless Crayola littering the bottom of the junk drawer

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She even signed it on the flip side.

flip side /flip sīd/ Sure, I could’ve just said “back” but I like the sound of flip side. Reminds me of 45 records and my youth.

youth /yo͞oTH/ something just revealed to have taken place long ago by letting the term ’45 record’ slip

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Editor’s Note – From the messages I’ve received since announcing this secret prize package, I know I have disappointed many of you by NOT sending a hamster through the mail to Amy. Quite frankly, I’m very flattered that you considered me competent enough to devise a method for mailing live cargo. Maybe next time.
I’d have to use dry ice, right?

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Can YOU tell a Story in only Eleven Words?


Today’s writing prompt is brought to you by The Lightning and the Lightning BugTell a story in exactly 11 words.

I love these short exercises. So much so that I’m giving you two responses. I just couldn’t decide.

* * * * * * * * * *

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“Please, Mama. I promise I’ll do everything. Can we keep him?”

* * * * * * * * * *

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They got along best when they thought no one was watching.

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KIDS TODAY ARE SOFT … and here are some of the reasons why


Remember the whole “When I was a kid, I had to walk 10 miles … at a 90 degree angle … in acid snow … through packs of rabid wolves … on genetically-altered, mutant ant beds” reprimand we all got as kids? Every generation gets the speech from their parents. And every generation swears they’ll never repeat it to their kids.

But we’re all a bunch of liars.

Case in point … I made the following observations recently while chauffeuring my kids to one of their many exciting adventures over the summer break.

  • Exhibit A … We were listening to ‘Tween Radio” on Pandora.

When I was a kid, we didn’t have radio stations geared specifically to MY age group.

  • Exhibit B … When a song came on that didn’t meet their collective satisfaction, they both yelled out “Skip!”

When I was a kid, we couldn’t just fast forward through radio airplay. You either suffered through the crap song OR you changed the station … to one of the three other decent FM choices available on your mom’s dashboard.

  • Exhibit C … When I inevitably pressed ‘Skip’ (because I am a lazy, Gen-X parent and it was easier than listening to the incessant squawking), Pandora ruthlessly went to the commercial break that airs after every five or six songs. Both kids let out an exasperated sigh. And the commercial went on for an “excruciating” fifteen seconds. It was absolute torture.

When I was a kid, the ads droned on for five minutes … which was approximately the same length of time as the segment of actual music that preceded each break. And WE passed the time by mimicking the voices and sound effects we heard. Problem solved.


So, at the risk of sounding like an 85-year-old, I’m just going to say it.

KIDS TODAY ARE SOFT!

(and here are some of the reasons why)



Dear Son & Daughter,

(Wait here while I put in my teeth.)

In MY day …

When you liked somebody and wanted to publicize it … you didn’t use Facebook or Instagram. You used the school bathroom wall or you sent in a dedication to your local radio station when you hoped he or she would be listening. And, of course, they always were … because there was NOTHING ELSE TO DO!

When you ordered pizza … it was Domino’s. Your topping choices were cheese, pepperoni or sausage. And if they took longer than 30 minutes to slap it together and cause traffic accidents rushing it to your house, it was free!

When you wanted to make popcorn … you got out a big pot, popcorn kernels and oil OR, if you were lucky, your Jiffy Pop popcorn kit. Then, you burned yourself making it on the stove.

When you wanted to see a movie … you had to wait for the one summer kids’ movie to be released. When it finally came out, you saw it in the flat-floored theater holding the tiny paper sleeve of popcorn and the small Coke between your knees because there were NO CUP HOLDERS! And, with no PG-13 rating in existence, there was a good chance you’d get to hear the mother of all curse words in otherwise benign PG-rated films like Big.

When you wanted to buy that movie after it left the theaters … you waited a year for it to be released on VHS or Betamax, paid $80 for it and prayed the tape didn’t snap every time you had to rewind it in the machine. And the rewinding process could often take up to 5 minutes.

When that $80 video tape malfunctioned … you carefully used a pencil to rewind the entire spool of tape so you could salvage your new copy of Xanadu.

When you wanted to listen to music on the go … you used a walkman. It was as big as a VHS tape so it was tricky to manage while riding a bike. Unless you had a basket on your handlebars. That basket was also handy for storing extra cassette tapes (each holding up to 90 minutes of music!) so you could stop on the side of the road and change out your tunes when the mood struck.

When you used your walkman … you listened to the music through headphones, not earphones. Big, goofy, sometimes neon-colored headphones. There was no hiding these “stylish” monstrosities.

When you liked a song and wanted to own it … you could either wait for your mom to bring you to the mall so you could spend your allowance to buy the record or cassette tape OR you could chain yourself to your tape deck and wait for the song to come on so you could tape it, usually with the stupid deejay talking over the front and back ends of it.

When you wanted frozen yogurt … you put Yoplait in the freezer, as there was no such thing as frozen yogurt.

When you had a prize in a cereal box … it was in the cereal, not encased in a protective plastic condom between the cereal and the cardboard. Made-in-China craftsmanship, be damned. They mixed it right in with our food. And there was no squabbling over who got to keep it. If it fell into your bowl when the cereal was being poured, it was yours. (Yes, we started eating out of mixing bowls to work the system.)

When you had to sell candy or something for school … you had to put that crap in a wagon and walk the neighborhood by yourself unloading it door to door. And no one worried that you would be kidnapped.

When you wanted to watch TV … you had to choose between 5 channels and hope the antenna brought in good reception that day. Everyone in the house had to agree on the show. There was no split screen. And if your parents wanted the TV for themselves then you had to go use the old black-and-white, 12-inch you inherited from your great uncle that was plugged in the room over the garage.

When you wanted to play video games … you stuffed all your quarters into an old sock and begged your parents to take you to the arcade. If you were lucky, they liked the games, too. My dad almost always had the high score on Pac-Man and my mom on Galaga. My talent? Frogger and Centipede.

When you realized you wanted to be able to play video games at home … you begged your parents to buy an Atari, Coleco or Intellivision “gaming console.” You were usually stuck playing them on the old, 12-inch-black-and-white television you inherited from your great uncle (see above) so you weren’t always occupying the “good TV.”

When you wanted to communicate via wireless technology … you used a walkie-talkie or, if your family splurged a little, a cordless telephone. And all of these items didn’t work worth a crap. You were better off with two cans and a string.

When you had a question and you needed answers … you had several options: (1) ask your parents, (2) ask your friends, or (3) get your mom to drive you in the station wagon to the library, look up the Dewey Decimal number in the card catalog, find the stupid book and then sift through it ’til you found what you were looking for. And all of that usually came at the expense of a Saturday.

When you got a McDonald’s Happy Meal (because NO other restaurants made kids’ meals) … you got a slider-sized burger, a handful of fries, a packet of cookies (truly the best part), a thimble of Coke and a toy. They did not ask what gender the toy was for when you bought it. And you couldn’t swap it out for anything else.

When you wanted a diet soda (though I don’t know WHY you would) … you got nasty, skunky, turpentine-tasting Tab. One calorie of pure evil in a can. Seriously, that should’ve been their ad campaign.

When you wore shoes (IF you wore them) … you had two choices: sneakers and flip-flops. And you wore them until they fell apart. Even in the pool.

Alright, fine. It’s not like I grew up in the middle of the Bubonic Plague or anything but I still contend that today’s generation is way softer than mine. I had fun lampooning my kids and myself coming up with these little gems and could probably think of a dozen more if I applied myself. (See lazy self-reference above.)

What do YOU think? What did I miss?

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WANNA SEE THIS SAME POST AS A PICTURE BOOK? CLICK HERE!

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The World Will End in Three Days (for Trifecta)


Everything above the grey line below was added after I hit ‘publish.’ I have NEVER written a post faster. I really wanted to participate in the Trifecta challenge this weekend … and this VERY abbreviated entry was my FIFTH stab at it.
Yeah, I was pretty amazed I went with this one, too. I posted it with one minute to spare. Look at me. I’m like Indiana Jones sliding under the rock wall at the last minute.

Trifextra – Create something between 33-333 words using “The world will end in three days” as the inspiration.

* * * * * * * * * *

Coordinating Schedules

* * * * * * * * * * *

“The world will end in three days.”

“Wednesday?”

“Wednesday.”

“Wednesday’s no good for me.”

“Um, okay. What about Thursday?”

“Thursday? Thursday’s wide open.”

“Alright. So I’ll put it down for Thursday.”

“Works for me.”

* * * * * * * * * * *

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Easily my WEIRDEST post … and it’s a pretty stiff competition


There are a great many writers with whom I’ve become connected through challenges like Trifecta, One Hundred Word Song and Finding the Funny. We all try to support each other by reading and critiquing each other’s work and, when possible, offering ideas of our own to inspire further composition. Recently, one of these writers created his own version of Mad Libs (my title, not his) where each participant was given his or her own set of guidelines, drawn from a hat of ideas.

These were my parameters for this entry:

  • Object #1 – Camera
  • Object #2 – Photo
  • Location – NYC 2112 
  • Plot – I am Milo! (Get it? Milo is the last cat… like ‘I Am Legend, the Will Smith remake.)
  • Genre – Romantic Comedy
  • Word count – 500 words exactly

I may have stretched the interpretation of “romantic comedy” a bit here and I’m not too comfortable with science fiction so I’ve never even seen I Am Legend. Still, if you like it, Mr. Brain Tomahawk, then my work here is done.

I think this post might just be nominated for a Blogger’s Razzie …

* * * * * * * * *

Rats, Cats & Flying Automobiles

* * * * * * * * * 

The year was 2112 … and the planet had undergone a major structural transformation. In the newly three-tiered world, a frightened cat roamed the streets of what was New York City, located on the middle level of society now known as Terra. Constantly plagued by the buzzing of the colonies above and beneath him, Milo knew he must fight to stay alive using only his feline wits and his filthy, road-weary paws. He wanted to hide but knew he must be found … but by the right colonization … before it was too late.

Located miles above the Earth’s surface, Supra was a community of humans living in hovering structures kept aloft by a synthetic chemical (colloquially called Airborne) found in a Polaroid photograph. Thought to be a useless relic until this groundbreaking discovery many years ago, the Polaroid camera (for the second time in its history) became an overnight sensation and the most sought-after product on the planet in 2012.

Located miles beneath the Earth’s surface, Infra was a community of rats who, because of a mutated virus contracted from years of sewer dwelling, were able to reproduce at an increasingly alarming rate. Challenged with overcrowding in their subterranean environment, the rodents began coming above ground in search of new species with which to expand and diversify their monolithic population. NY Times Staff Writer Stu Pidass wrote Romantic Comedy? No, it’s a Romantic Tragedy that these overly amorous rodents will soon be taking over our fair planet!”

Terrified by the aggressive vermin, humans fled to the skies to create a super community, taking all of their loved ones and worldly possessions with them. One such family, the descendants of the illustrious Phineas P. Polaroid, rose to great wealth and celebrity in the wake of this crisis. The Polaroids saw fame the likes of which they hadn’t experienced in over a century. They had everything they could have ever wanted, except for their beloved family cat, Milo.

Consumed with a crippling greed in 2012 (the pinnacle of the Great Rat Crisis), the Polaroids stayed back on ground-level Earth in a desperate attempt to take the money of every last inhabitant. “Hurry … before the price of Airborne goes sky high!” “The rat problem is sky rocketing. Get Airborne today!” AND “Relax … and get your head in the clouds … with Airborne!” were just a few of the ad campaigns used to sell their product amidst the hysteria.

In their effort to reach every possible buyer, they themselves became the last remaining humans on what was already being called Terra. Thus, their evacuation was done with such urgency that many things deemed valuable to the family were left behind, most notably Milo.

Now, with all the vegetation and resources on Terra rapidly dying out, Milo’s days were numbered. The rats had already crafted their plan to bring him down below and make him their own. The humans were planning their rescue to take him up safely to higher ground. Only one question remained … Who would reach him first?

* * * * * * * * * *

Bonus Points will be awarded to all of you who made it to the end of this post!

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And the winner of the Jud & Bill Episode 11 Contest is …


Have I been REMISS or have I been SLACKASSED? You be the judge.

re·miss   ri·mis’ – (adj.) negligent, careless, or slow in performing one’s duty, business, etc.

 OR

slack·assed   slak’·ast – (adj.) lazy; whiny; buck-passing; lame excuse-generating; easily distracted by snacks

* * * * * * * * * *

Well, yes. The contest ended Monday … so I should have announced the winner Tuesday morning … but I (stepping up on pretty pink, bedazzled pedestal) have been busy celebrating the birth of our nation this week.

So EXCUSE ME for being patriotic.

I’M SORRY if my allegiance became your inconvenience.

And if CARING MORE ABOUT AMERICA than about this whole website contest is wrong, then I don’t wanna be …

Oh, whatever. I had stuff to do.  But don’t mistake my slackassery for disinterest. Hosting this inaugural link-up was a blast for me. You guys really outdid yourselves. I promise whenever I get around to my next one that it’ll be easier (and WAY more brainless!) for all of us. And, that said, I guess I should actually be announcing a winner. I so wish I could name all of you.

“You’re all winners!”

Alas, the ODNT budget barely allows for one winner let alone a whole panel of victors. So, we put it up for a vote and let YOU decide. Ladies and gentlemen, the tribe has spoken. (I have never seen Survivor. Gosh, I hope I used that quote correctly.) The winner of the Jud & Bill Episode 11 Contest is … Amy Ragg of Betty Rants.

Congratulations, Amy! Please email me at olddognewtits@gmail.com with your snail mail address so I can send you a little token of my esteem. I don’t want to ruin the surprise for Amy so I won’t reveal what it is here until I confirm she’s received it. Until then, please go visit Amy on Twitter (@oneragglette) and tell her she’s awesome.

Thank You! Thank You! Thank You to everyone who researched, read, wrote and voted. You are now all of my favorite readers and can sit in the front section of my blog nearest to the stage. That’s where we serve the good drinks.

To view the other hilarious entries, click here. To view the dumbassery that let up to the contest, click here.

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Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner? (Hint: Johnny Depp)


Happy Fourth of July!

Trifecta challenged us to compose something between 33 & 333 words using the word and definition below. Honestly, I think I may have cheated a little since Mr. Depp did the writing for me.

* * * * * * * * * *

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?

* * * * * * * * * *

Dear Michele,

Yes, it’s true. Vanessa and I have split. This business of living on two continents and a private island has been difficult for years. And, quite frankly, when she caught me reading a website called “Old Dog, New Tits” … well, you can imagine the fireworks, right?

I tried explaining to her that we’re just friends. I told her we first met in 1990 and didn’t even really get to know each other until ’93. And she said, “What about Jump Street, Johnny? Or getting sucked into the bed during your Nightmare? She didn’t like THOSE, Johnny?” Of course, I shouted back that NOBODY liked those. I told her that you laugh at me every time we talk about those little blasts from the past … and that you call them my “Macchio years.” But she didn’t think it was funny.

So now, Lily, Jack and I are flying in for the 4th and we were wondering if you, Dave and the kids had any plans. Would it be alright if we tagged along? I promise to make my Tandoori Chicken. Yes, and the grilled corn, too.

Oh, and before I forget, I wanted to let you know how much I’ve been enjoying the blog. It’s such a great way to keep up with you guys. I promise I’ll get around to finally writing that guest post we talked about. And, yes, I know I just split an infinitive. That’s exactly the reason I’m afraid to write for you, you big grammar nerd. 🙂

Anyway, let’s talk soon. Let me know if you need anything else for Wednesday. The kids can’t wait to see you!

Johnny

P.S. Do you think Mr. Kleinpeter would take the kids on another tour of the dairy farm while we’re in town? Lily is sooooo jealous that you have a calf named after you. And Jack’s really looking forward to milking a cow. Ask Virginia if she and her kids want to come with us again. I’ll treat for lunch after.

* * * * * * * * * *

1993 was a banner year for my friend, Johnny. He released two of my favorite films, What’s Eating Gilbert Grape and Benny & Joon, from which this tremendous selection was taken. Enjoy …

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read to be read at yeahwrite.me

Kleinpeter 1, AMC-TV Big Fat Festering 0


Jeff Kleinpeter of Kleinpeter Dairy emailed me again recently (remember him? more on that soon) … and his repeated awesomeness reminded me that I forgot to tell you guys something. I wrote another email to AMC about the whole airing-a-Trojan-vibrator-commercial-during-Polar-Express-the-day-after-Christmas snafu. I actually sent it in May right after the superior response I got from my email to Kleinpeter Dairy Farms. Of course, my intention was to shame AMC on their deplorable “customer service.” And, just as I expected, they predictably opted to ignore my email yet again. So, I sent mine again today.

They seem to think I’ll give up easily.

Anyway, feel free to take a look and drop them a letter of your own. Here’s all the contact information from their website. There are several names listed there. I suggest copying all of them. As far as I’m concerned, even their water delivery guy holds some of the responsibility. And someone needs to pay … or at least freakin’ apologize. Am I right?

Dear AMC,

I tried so many times to contact you last January regarding the whole Trojan-commercial-during-The-Polar-Express-the-day-after-Christmas debacle. I sent three separate emails, I tweeted you and I even called and spoke with a live person … who said your organization would be getting back to me shortly. That lip service proved merely to be a means of getting me off the phone because NOTHING EVER HAPPENED.

If someone wasn’t fired over the initial VIBRATOR AD DURING A CHILDREN’S CHRISTMAS MOVIE decision, then here’s another chance for you to thin your herd.

And I want to let you know that I keep a blog about such things. All of my letters to you are included there.

(1) http://wp.me/p1LoLK-NK – sent 12/31/11

(2) http://wp.me/p1LoLK-QE – sent 1/6/12

(3) http://wp.me/p1LoLK-YK – sent 1/27/12

So, why am I suddenly writing to you again? Because I wrote another letter to a different company today and, within less than twenty-four hours, I received a personalized email, a phone call and then even a visit to my home by one of their local representatives to “make things right” as they say.  They should serve as your example. And please know that I didn’t miss the opportunity in this new post to state yet again that you ignored all of my attempts to contact you … http://wp.me/p1LoLK-1E1

AMC should take a lesson from Kleinpeter Dairy. I am painfully disappointed that you elected to sweep me under the proverbial rug. And I have a big mouth.

Thanks for nothing,

Michele

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Journey to the Bottom of My Purse


My friend, Mel, wrote something a while back about when her kids called her out on her very unkempt “pursekeeping.” Her humbling experience is what prompted me to write today’s post.

For the record, I am not at all a purse person. I carry one only because I need the stuff inside and want to have my hands free in the event of a spill or other act of spazzery. (It happens.) I do not have an assortment of bags of differing colors, fabrics, seasons and strap lengths in my closet to coordinate with every outfit. I truly loathe the chore of changing purses.

My system is simple. I have a larger, casual purse that is used approximately 360 days of the year and a smaller, dressy one that serves the remaining 5. (Leap years have been known to throw off this system.) Both models are solid black and together they cover all occasions for me. In some ways, I am very girly but, in others, I come pretty close to crossing that all-too-important line of demarcation. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t plan on standing up when I pee anytime soon. I love highlighting my hair, painting my nails and wearing strappy sandals far too much for that. But I can also be pretty no-nonsense about a lot of things, especially when it comes to purses.

Anyway, back to Mel. When her kids called her out on her slovenly pursekeeping, the first thing she did was to dump it all out, take a full inventory of everything inside and then post it on the internet for all to see. Sure, it’s weird. And that’s why I loved it … and am now following her lead. Of course, I did it thinking … “Mel’s kids are way younger than mine. Juice boxes, character bandaids … I’m way past that stage. My purse shouldn’t be that bad.”

Yeah, right.

After I regained my footing from the painful fall off my high horse, I created my own list. Honestly, at any given time, you could probably put together a collage of where I’ve spent my last year (ahem … or two) based on the receipts, ticket stubs, business cards and other crazy remnants of my bag.

Geez. I should probably bring some kind of a weapon in case things get dicey down there. Somebody cover me. I’m going in ..

Okay, I’m back! (still out of breath from the treacherous archeological dig) Here’s what I found:

  • 1 wallet (I hate the oversized behemoth I bought when the awesome one my boy gave me finally succumbed.)
  • 1 travel-sized Advil bottle (Should I worry that the pills inside don’t all look the same?)
  • 1 miniature plastic pink hairbrush (I’m pretty sure I “appropriated” it from my daughter.)
  • 1 small packet of Listerine breath strips (In a pinch, they can actually be used as bribes for my kids. Sad, huh?)
  • 1 completely empty bottle of breath spray (‘Cause you never know when …. Fine, I’ll throw it out.)
  • 1 checkbook (Sure, it’s old school. But it still gets a lot of mileage.)
  • 1 surprisingly powerful pocket flash light (Great for when things drop in jet black movie theaters. Except food.)
  • 2 pairs of ear plugs (I wish I’d remembered these were in here. Oh, the crap I could have blocked out.)
  • 5 “lady products” (Two needed to hit the trash immediately. I wouldn’t use them to plug a drain. Shudder.)
  • 1 unopened pack of Tums (I bought it during a particularly bad bout of “sea sickness” on a cruise last summer.)
  • 1 pair of clip-on peace sign earrings (My girl got her ears pieced last fall so these have been in here a while.)
  • 1 loose key (It might be for the exercise room at our pool club. The fact that it’s a mystery explains a lot.)
  • 1 Chronicles of Narnia chapstick (Yes, the theme makes it OLD, but I knew it was there & use it all the time.)
  • 1 handy carrying case of assorted gift cards (I probably shouldn’t be toting these around in my purse.)
  • 1 black scrunchy (Don’t judge. I use these tacky “fashion don’ts” all the time. Actually, I’m sporting one now.)
  • 1 foil-wrapped wad of chewed gum (Let he who is without a chewed gum wad cast the first stone! Or gum wad.)
  • 1 single Mickey Mouse earring (I need to go sneak it into my girl’s room so she thinks she had it all along.)
  • 1 barrette (I’ll put it by the earring and say “See, I TOLD you I didn’t have it. Take some responsibility!”)
  • 3 perfume sample vials (Chanel, Jo Malone & a mystery vial – I live in the sweaty, humid South.)
  • 2 pens (The number varies but their source remains a mystery. I never buy pens. They just show up.)
  • 1 black hair clip (Again, I live in the South and you never know when a sudden messy updo will be necessary.)
  • 3 nail files (One was a giveaway I got at a Katy Perry concert for Fox TV’s I Hate my Teenage Daughter.’ Ironic.)
  • 1 Key ring (We’ll delve deeper into this one in its own post.)
  • 1 pair of cheap sunglasses (I keep a whole arsenal of these cheap frames at the ready for when one breaks.)
  • 3 casino cards (This makes me sound like a gambler. I’m so not.)
  • 1 arcade card (From my Disney trip last February. Trash.)
  • 1 policeman’s business card (From an out-of-town traffic accident last summer. Not my fault. Trash.)
  • 2 old receipts (Only two? Well, THAT’S a banner day!)
  • 1 Rolling Video Games of NOLA business card (I’m never renting the ‘mobile game RV’ for a party. Trash.)
  • 1 old check register (This should probably be stored somewhere besides my purse, yes?)
  • 1 lipstick (Very effective bribe for my girl. Not as effective with the boy. That’s probably a good thing.)
  • 1 compact (See perfume samples & hair clip above. Sweaty summers necessitate a means of de-shining.)
  • 1 sparkly silver eyeliner (I so wish I could blame this on my girl. But it’s mine. All mine. I just LOVED Xandu as a girl.)

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