Journey to the Center of a Woman's Purse

It is a week away from the beginning of finals and I can't think of a better time to stop complaining about the work I have to do. But I can't - I am the self-proclaimed king of procrastination.

The trouble is some people see the things that I do as a waste of time … like sitting on the toilet. I read somewhere (probably on the can) that over a lifetime, the average man "wastes" 394 days sitting on the throne. I think that most men would agree that those 56 weeks is a time to be cherished.

On the other hand, the eternity spent waiting for a lady to find something in her oversize handbag is not. While most women carry one, it confuses me beyond comprehension as to why.

The time spent looking for things that have fallen down below the amassed clutter is a true waste of time.

If I suspect that a friend of mine keeps her cell phone in a purse, I will just write an e-mail. I fear that 40 minutes of a Bon Jovi ringtone while she rummages around for her phone would end up with a few pissed-off people or a smoldering cowskin clutch - talk about a "Blaze of Glory."

I can't figure out why ladies need more than one purse and why most have 20. I was once told that it had something to do with the seasons, so I guess that means there are 16 more that I don't know about.

It is also said that a pocketbook can make or break an outfit. I happen to think that no piece of tanned cowhide will help the worst of fashion faux pas. But what do I know? I am just a man.

I am not familiar with the contents of these cumbersome carryalls, so over the weekend, while my sister wasn't looking, I took a peek inside her bag.

Floating on top of the ocean of hodgepodge was the mighty iPhone and some members of the makeup family. But as I dove under the epipelagic zone, I encountered a pair of large sunglasses and a school of used chewing gum wrappers. I was tempted to explore deeper into the abyss but retreated, fearful of losing a limb or being sprayed by an estranged pepper spray canister.

Had I ventured deeper, I may have come across currency from a country that doesn't exist anymore or a prescription for a medical ailment that cleared up years ago.

I know things tend to get lost in bags of females, so I keep waiting to read interesting headlines in junk-news tabloids.

"Paris Hilton finds bones of past pet Chihuahua in Prada purse." Or "Secret al-Qaida hideout found in Laura Bush's handbag."

I can hear the ladies screaming right now, "We just want to be prepared!"

Well, that is all fine and good, but do you need cough medicine for kids you haven't had yet, or eyeglasses for astigmatism you haven't been diagnosed with? Just ask a man.

I don't leave my house without my phone, wallet or key ring, all of which can fit inside the pockets of my jeans. The great part is that I still have an open pocket to hold a rolled up copy of a newspaper. That comes in handy when I am spending quality time on the commode.

Column for December 2, 2008. It is my material. © 2008