Hobo Bags
The hobo handbag is something that I do not understand. There is, first of all, the name. Does a woman really want to be associated with hobo? A vagrant?
My obsession with purses, handbag, tote bags, or whatever else you want to call the device in which you like to carry around your stuff is ridiculous. And this is known to retailers. As such, all day long I have been receiving coupons and advertisements by email and a lot of them include a photo of the hobo bag.
Click the ad, and there is always at least one description for hobo bag. Ack.
I get hung up on stupid things like names, and descriptions. When Billy Crystal said, “Sheldon? No, no. You did not have great sex with Sheldon.
…No, you didn’t. A Sheldon can do your income taxes. If you need a root canal, Sheldon’s your man, but humpin’ and pumpin’ is not Sheldon’s strong suit. It’s the name. ‘Do it to me, Sheldon.’ ‘You’re an animal, Sheldon.’ ‘Ride me, big Sheldon.’ It doesn’t work.”
I completely understood.
I declined to date an absolutely gorgeous and intelligent man once, because of his unfortunate name. Can you imagine, “Do me baby, Duncan?”
Not, gonna happen. That poor guy. I hope he changed his name. Or moved to England. And met some nice non-ridiculous women. As in, not like me and my friends. (In our defense, we were all 21. But you can see that I have not improved in this area.)
This is the same with hobo bag. I cannot carry it around knowing it is named after a vagrant. That and whenever I tell myself I am ridiculous and toss my keys, wallet and phone in one at a store to test my ridiculousness, they all fall to the bottom and disappear. It’s a black hole with a really bad name.
But I keep opening every email to look at the bags. Not all of them are hobo name or hobo shape – which seems to be somewhat subjective. And it has occurred to me that giraffe print is really in for handbags. And I own giraffe print fabric, and a bunch of handbag patterns (not hobo). Yeah me.
Except, of course, that I do not have any need whatsoever for another handbag. I would like a red one. And giraffe is fun. But I do not need one. I spent an hour Thanksgiving day looking for a small makeup clutch, that turned out not to be in the bin full of handbags at all. A clear sign that I should be giving them away, not making more.
I once dated a guy whose last name was Ballsinger. Nope, no way I’m marrying you, dude. Seriously, my last name isn’t going to be Ballsinger. That and I was 17 and he was not intelligent. Though where I’m from 17 is a perfectly acceptable to get married. Anyway…
I also appreciate a tote that serves it’s purpose perfectly. Once I have one, I’ll carry it til it falls apart.
I love that movie.
.-= Elizabeth A.´s last blog ..Dieting motivation? =-.
Liz, I’m glad you understand about the name hang-up. Though, once I saw it in a movie, it became clear to me that I am not the only one who gets stuck on it.