In case I haven't drilled this concept into your brains enough lately, I'm still not on birth control and I still subtly threaten to kill myself at least once an hour in casual conversation.

I'm going to LA this weekend to see the guy I'm in a relationship with and hang out with people who actually like me for a minute. If you want to hang out with me, even you Internet creeps, I'll be at the Home Depot Center (LOL, whatever that means) on Saturday night. If that's not good enough for you, stop reading my blog because you don't cherish treasure.

I was going to do laundry tonight and get a head start on cleaning out my purse because it's becoming a situation. I have talked about how I keep a bunch of stuff in my purse at any given point, but let me take a moment on this chilled out Monday to stress that: I am a big advocator of keeping as much as possible on your person at one time. On New Years Eve a few years ago? I had a double cheeseburger, a bottle of champagne, a lighter, a pack of cigarettes (that I stole from my friend so that she couldn't smoke because I respect my friends' long-term health), three chapsticks, a few lip glosses, and extra underwear in my purse (YO... you never know when you have to sleep over somewhere and like, kill me if I have to wear dirty underwear).

This is the way you get to live if you are a woman. Yes, we pay seven dollars a month to shove cotton sticks up our vaginas and that sucks, but you want to know what else we get to do? Reach in to a sack and pull out that half of a burrito we were saving for later. You ever seen a man stick half a burrito in his jean pocket? No. If you have, I hope you stood up and left cause homeboy was crazy.

I’ve been doing a better job about digging out the receipts, but you can bet that I’ll always be keeping a fresh Chapstick, extra pens, some type of snack, a water bottle, Xanax, my Kindle, a notebook, nail polish, and more bobby pins than you’d need to perfect every prom up-do in the world.

My purse is my only friend.