I love you and wouldn’t change you for the world.
It’s not sexism. It’s idiocy.
I used to like to go to the races at Woodbine Racetrack in Toronto. One day, my wife thought she might like to come too. We planned a day of it: we’d have lunch and a couple of drinks in the nice licensed restaurant overlooking the track. We’d get a table by the window, overlooking the finish line. After lunch, I’d study my Racing Form and lay some bets down, and she would knit while she watched the horses run. She liked looking at horses. She brought her knitting in a tote bag. It also contained her wallet, keys, etc.
She wasn’t allowed to take her tote bag in. Nope, said the security guard. No bags. But it has her wallet–it’s like a purse. Nope, said the security guard. It’s not a purse.
So, after checking her tote bag and holding her wallet and keys (her outfit had no pockets that day), we went into the restaurant. We got as far as sitting down, and I could tell she was uncomfortable. “Do you want to leave?” I asked. She nodded. So we left. Woodbine was out the profit on a couple of lunches, a couple of drinks, and some dollars on their handle. Not much in a big operation like that–but I did write to complain. Long story short, the next time we went, we had no problems with my wife taking her knitting in a tote bag.
Matt, you might try complaining in the light of day. A phone call during regular 9 to 5 business hours, Monday to Friday; to the person in charge of the entire operation; might cause a rethink of the policy. Couldn’t hurt, anyway.
Jerry: Hey! Officer! Someone took my European carryall!
Cop: Your what?
Jerry: The…black, leather…thing with a strap.
Cop: You mean a purse?
Jerry: Yes, a purse. I carry a purse!
“Mais, c’est mon porte-tous européen!”??
I like to think we live in a day and age where a hip, stylish man like our m_mcl can stride fearlessly forth without a ‘bag-hag’.
If it’s the one I remember from a couple of months ago, it’s a fine bag, clearly not a dirty bomb or knife-carrier. Maybe the funny buttons would set off a metal detector, but still…
Matt, mon chéri, now you’ve gone and made me laugh until coffee spewed out of my nose. Maudite marde! I would have slapped the little bitch on the other side of that coatcheck counter for ya! No one picks on my Mathieu. It pisses me off. 
La prochaine fois: “C’est pas comme si j’peux me l’mett’e dans 'a brassière, mon porte-feuille, maudit épais! Pis mon téléphone, j’me l’mets où? Tu vas-ti m’aider, pis m’ap’ler aux trois minutes sur ‘vibrate’ pour’ksa en vaille la peine, face-à-claques?”
cough
Righto, carry on. (I can translate the joual paragraph above for dopers who would like me to. It’s way funnier in its original form…)
Lord, do I miss home!!
mdr
that’s “mort de rire,” maudits blokes.
That sucks. What’s their motivation for taking your bag, anyway? Did you have to pay extra on top of the coat check fee?
I never take my bag with me when I go out at night, but any other time I’m out of the apartment I have a messenger bag with my phone, a bottle of water, Altoids, etc. in it. I have no idea how anyone gets by without one.
Happily, no. THAT would have been Quite the Scene.
please translate for me, because I’m sure you’ll do a better job than babelfish.
“It’s not like I can stuff my wallet down my bra, you goddamn moron! And where am I supposed to put my phone? You going to help me out and call me every three minutes on ‘vibrate’ to make it worth my while, slaphead?”
Like elen said, much better in the original.
I still get the vibe, and it is deliciously biting.
My brother has carried a purse for years. He first bought one because nobody in the world, not even the military, make pants with enough pockets for all the stuff he carries; one of his many nicknames is EduTools because if you ask him for any tool smaller than a monkey wrench, he probably has one on. After stuffing his purse with a lot of said Stuff, he discovered the beauty of wearing trousers that weigh less than you do 
At a New Year’s reveillon, some idiot started asking him about the purse in a way that implied
a) I’m so drunk that even if I wasn’t a moron normally I’d be one now
b) I want a good excuse to hit someone
c) I believe a guy with a purse is gay
d) I’m so stupid (see a) I believe that if I pick a fight with a gay guy he will hit like a girl. A weak girl. A girl who, unlike most girls, doesn’t go for the balls and the eyes.
The idiot got run off quite speedily, they later saw him outside throwing up. Nothing wrong with a proper purse… but there are so many things wrong with people who make a fuss about what others carry!
Maybe you could threaten with stuffing the cell down your jockstrap?
Like I say, as fun as that would be from a vibrate-mode point of view it would ruin the line of the pants. I don’t wanna have a rectangular, antennaed crotch. Or, for that matter, a crotch that plays “I Don’t Feel Like Dancin’” when someone sends me a text.
Oh, I was thinking more along the lines of an elaborate show taking it out any time you did get a call… there’s comic material there somewhere, I’m just not good at comic stuff.
Lessee:
Wallet - back pocket.
Keys - right front pocket.
Change - left front pocket.
Eyeglasses - face. 
If I’m feeling the need to carry a cellphone on my person, I ditch the change and carry the phone in the left front pocket. But since I’m an old-fashioned type who doesn’t feel the need to be connected every minute, I’m usually perfectly happy to leave it in the car.
I used to carry a checkbook that folded wallet-style in the other back pocket, but who needs a checkbook anymore? For that matter, I’m near the point of not carrying pocket change anymore.
I’ll be damned if I can figure out what else I’d need to have right there with me at all times.
I summarized it in the first post. If I have a cold, I’ll also need hankies, cold meds, and Halls. Bonus points if it’s a particularly fun party, like the 80s Night I went to for a friend’s birthday – then I need mascara and eyeliner and possibly glitter as well, for touch-ups.
Also, I never carry my wallet in my back pocket, because a) that makes it way too easy to get stolen, b) how am I supposed to sit, and c) how are people supposed to grope my ass?
“Are those your keys or were you circumcised by a butcher?”
If I were your boyfriend I might be concerned that you cared about what other guys thought of the line of your pants, but maybe he’s into that.
I don’t really get the “ruining the line of my pants” thing. I do at an intellectual level, but… My pants have a line. That line is “squiggly”. I’m happy with my squiggly pants.
Glad I could provide some giggles. I miss *le vieux pays, sti *. I’m in Minnesota now. I suppose I could sit behind the Minnesota Wild bench during the hockey season and swear a blue streak in joual and be understood by half the team and the coach, though. I’ve been tempted to do it.
Derleth – the problem you have with understanding the whole “line of the pants” thing is that you’ve never seen Matt’s most excellent buttcheeks in high quality pants. If you had you’d understand. It’s just glorious. It’s the kind of glorious, rainbow-coloured tush you just do NOT ruin the line of, when in pants, girlfriend.
