Purses are strange things. They are too big to be stuffed into bags. Yet too small to contain all my belongings to be carried alone. The only reason I’d carry purses would be to parties. Even so, they’re always packed to the brim, which is quite ugly to look at.
Her purse is full of things she doesn’t need. If she narrowed it down to the essentials, she would probably have only her wallet and a bag the size of an index card. But she stubbornly carried her bag the size of an elephant, partly so she could smuggle snacks into the movie theater.
She took a hard stumble. The rain had left large puddles in the road that soaked her clothes through. Then she noticed, her purse, completely submerged. Phone, money, notes, all soaked. This was going to be a wonderful day it seemed.
she left it on the park. and grab her bike. it started to rain .judging by the way she moved. she was in a hurry. i ran after her. but coudlnt catch her. i still have her purse.
It was the most beautiful purse I have ever seen. I have got to have it. Even though it costs the whole of my year’s pay. My husband is gonna kill me for this but what the heck! I paid the guy from that dark alley. Hopefully it is the real stuff.
It was the most beautiful purse I have ever seen. I have got to have it. Even though it costs the whole of my year’s pay. My husband is gonna kill me for this but what the heck! I paid the guy from that dark alley. Hopefully it is the real stuff.
Purse. A device to carry and contain items. Yet a status symbol and a symbol of gender for many. A tool that makes life for both users and theievs easier. People spend so much on one and yet will change them constantly. Run them through filth and abuse.
its something that women use as basically something to hold their entire life in what men can do with a tiny wallet women need something resembling a small child, what the fuck do they keep in there anyway im sure i saw someone with about six pairs of shoes in there and possible a dog
She could feel her fingers wrap around the small, maroon velvet purse. Her mind was screaming at her hands not to do so, yet her fingers delicately plucked up the purse from his hand. Her eyes was pinned to the gleaming pearl on the purse, shimmering in the light of the moon.
i once saw a lady with a purse, it was silver, large, more like a mini suitcase. but deffiniatly a purse. i always wondered what was in there. the contents of a purse are sopposed to sacred, but when i was maarried, i always snooped through my wifes purse.
a womans bag, a coach bag, expensive, makes your outfit look nice. two handles, a pouch with buttons, shiny, lord and taylor. very girlie. makes me feel like a woman. p-u-r-s-e. men dont wear them. they wear man bags.
I frantically searched through the contents of my purse. Where did I leave that lipstick? I hope I I still have it. Jenny would think I tossed it our delibrately
I grabbed my leather purse,hoping that it would not stand out in such a gloomy place. It was chaotic,just like a market.I could not stand the noise any longer and I felt if I was going to explode and give way to the heat.
swing the purse, swing it hard. fight for femimism the world over. But what if you don’t carry a purse in the first place? Harry Jones ponders this question over a frothy latte with five of his favourite feminists…
What did this vintage purse hold that kept veronica so intrigued? She had shopped in many antique stores but never felt such a connection. It was as if the fabric and beading held a vivid memory that spoke to her.
the purse was georgeous, it was expensive. eyeing it ever since the first day i started my new job, i have been reminscing about it for the whole time i work, sleep, play, or doing whatever. Love to me was that purse. Call me materialistic, but it was going to be my FIRST branded goods. and that, mattered the world to me.
If I had a purse, it would have a clasp like a vise, and I would want it covered with big spikes, each filed to an extreme point, jutting out from it at all angles, even from the handle, so it would jab me as I walked and remind me how rich I am.
The purse spilled on the table its contents spilled out revealing the half eaten apple and water. She reached her all too thin hand down to retrieve her ration for the day.
a purse is a nuisance and always in the way or something to worry about and I wish someone would invent or design something more user friendly because the purse in an old fashioned thing.
He pursed his lips, his disdain clear and unambiguous: the outfit did not meet his approval. He surveyed my attire ripping up and down over it with his serial killer stare – not his most appealing feature, that, unless you like bastards – until I grew tired of the comedy and hang him high ans short – with my garter – to the rafters and walked out of the church a free woman.
I once stole a purse. I did it on instinct, not thinking. I was walking down the street after fighting with my mother when I saw a woman talking on her cell phone. Without thinking, I grabbed her purse from her, causing her to fall in the process.
i placed my purse gently on the table and scanned the cafeteria. It was crowded with people . Queues were long and people jostled around. I grinned. Oh, today is going to be a fun day.
perhaps the biggest waste of money. how many purses do you need to carry. you can only carry one. the irony is quite simple. the fewer purses you own, the more money you can put in them.
i like purses. makes me look feminine. like everything else, i can’t get enough of them.
i would like one in fine gold glitter, one made with black sexy lace and a lighter-colored satin in the background, one designed with lace as well but looks feminine and girly. I also would love them in a variety of colors: peachy-pink, cream, white, black, purple, red…
i lost my purse today.but then, when i thought i would never see it again-some old woman had come to the door,to return it..yhe moral of the story-
there are some honest people out there….
maybe not such good writers..
just late,playing around…
this time it’s over. she has invaded my privacy too many times to be forgiven. it was my purse. how can she do that. she might be my mom, but still it is my purse. she can’t do that right? maybe i’ll sue her for it….can i sue her?
I stole her purse. I did not regret it. It was quick…like an orgasm. It felt good, the power to inflict fear in others. The power the strength. My morals couldn’t keep up, left in the dust with the woman sobbing. I stole her purse.
I was walking on the sidewalk towards the grocery store, when i saw a purse on the ground. It was small, brown and made of leather. I looked around before picking it up quickly, and opened it to see there’s nothing inside. In anger, i threw the purse onto the road and walked on.
Today I found a purse on the side of the road. I opened it up, to check for money, of course. It was empty. Except for a banana and a sport sock. It was bizarre. I took the banana out and checked it for signs of rotting or tampering. It looked good to me so I ate it. It tasted a little funny. But hey, free banana. I had no need for the sock or purse.
As Molly reached into her purse to pull out the dollar bill, her cell phone rang. She answered it. “Hello?” she asked.
“HI MOM!” her daughter’s voice rang over the speaker. “DADDY TAUGHT ME HOW TO TALK TO YOU ON THE PHONE!”
Purses are strange things. They are too big to be stuffed into bags. Yet too small to contain all my belongings to be carried alone. The only reason I’d carry purses would be to parties. Even so, they’re always packed to the brim, which is quite ugly to look at.
Her purse is full of things she doesn’t need. If she narrowed it down to the essentials, she would probably have only her wallet and a bag the size of an index card. But she stubbornly carried her bag the size of an elephant, partly so she could smuggle snacks into the movie theater.
She took a hard stumble. The rain had left large puddles in the road that soaked her clothes through. Then she noticed, her purse, completely submerged. Phone, money, notes, all soaked. This was going to be a wonderful day it seemed.
Purses are always a hassle to carry. Unless it’s a Medieval purse of money…
she left it on the park. and grab her bike. it started to rain .judging by the way she moved. she was in a hurry. i ran after her. but coudlnt catch her. i still have her purse.
It was the most beautiful purse I have ever seen. I have got to have it. Even though it costs the whole of my year’s pay. My husband is gonna kill me for this but what the heck! I paid the guy from that dark alley. Hopefully it is the real stuff.
It was the most beautiful purse I have ever seen. I have got to have it. Even though it costs the whole of my year’s pay. My husband is gonna kill me for this but what the heck! I paid the guy from that dark alley. Hopefully it is the real stuff.
Purse. A device to carry and contain items. Yet a status symbol and a symbol of gender for many. A tool that makes life for both users and theievs easier. People spend so much on one and yet will change them constantly. Run them through filth and abuse.
I want tell you a bad news.It is because i had lost my purse.
I have lost my purse.
I have lost my purse.
money, shit, salvadordali, driefcase, id, fuck, emty,
its something that women use as basically something to hold their entire life in what men can do with a tiny wallet women need something resembling a small child, what the fuck do they keep in there anyway im sure i saw someone with about six pairs of shoes in there and possible a dog
She could feel her fingers wrap around the small, maroon velvet purse. Her mind was screaming at her hands not to do so, yet her fingers delicately plucked up the purse from his hand. Her eyes was pinned to the gleaming pearl on the purse, shimmering in the light of the moon.
i once saw a lady with a purse, it was silver, large, more like a mini suitcase. but deffiniatly a purse. i always wondered what was in there. the contents of a purse are sopposed to sacred, but when i was maarried, i always snooped through my wifes purse.
a womans bag, a coach bag, expensive, makes your outfit look nice. two handles, a pouch with buttons, shiny, lord and taylor. very girlie. makes me feel like a woman. p-u-r-s-e. men dont wear them. they wear man bags.
I frantically searched through the contents of my purse. Where did I leave that lipstick? I hope I I still have it. Jenny would think I tossed it our delibrately
I grabbed my leather purse,hoping that it would not stand out in such a gloomy place. It was chaotic,just like a market.I could not stand the noise any longer and I felt if I was going to explode and give way to the heat.
swing the purse, swing it hard. fight for femimism the world over. But what if you don’t carry a purse in the first place? Harry Jones ponders this question over a frothy latte with five of his favourite feminists…
She dug and dug, her purse was like a mini black hole, considering its small size.
What did this vintage purse hold that kept veronica so intrigued? She had shopped in many antique stores but never felt such a connection. It was as if the fabric and beading held a vivid memory that spoke to her.
the purse was georgeous, it was expensive. eyeing it ever since the first day i started my new job, i have been reminscing about it for the whole time i work, sleep, play, or doing whatever. Love to me was that purse. Call me materialistic, but it was going to be my FIRST branded goods. and that, mattered the world to me.
If I had a purse, it would have a clasp like a vise, and I would want it covered with big spikes, each filed to an extreme point, jutting out from it at all angles, even from the handle, so it would jab me as I walked and remind me how rich I am.
The purse spilled on the table its contents spilled out revealing the half eaten apple and water. She reached her all too thin hand down to retrieve her ration for the day.
a purse is a nuisance and always in the way or something to worry about and I wish someone would invent or design something more user friendly because the purse in an old fashioned thing.
He pursed his lips, his disdain clear and unambiguous: the outfit did not meet his approval. He surveyed my attire ripping up and down over it with his serial killer stare – not his most appealing feature, that, unless you like bastards – until I grew tired of the comedy and hang him high ans short – with my garter – to the rafters and walked out of the church a free woman.
I once stole a purse. I did it on instinct, not thinking. I was walking down the street after fighting with my mother when I saw a woman talking on her cell phone. Without thinking, I grabbed her purse from her, causing her to fall in the process.
i placed my purse gently on the table and scanned the cafeteria. It was crowded with people . Queues were long and people jostled around. I grinned. Oh, today is going to be a fun day.
perhaps the biggest waste of money. how many purses do you need to carry. you can only carry one. the irony is quite simple. the fewer purses you own, the more money you can put in them.
I dropped my purse on the ground.
i like purses. makes me look feminine. like everything else, i can’t get enough of them.
i would like one in fine gold glitter, one made with black sexy lace and a lighter-colored satin in the background, one designed with lace as well but looks feminine and girly. I also would love them in a variety of colors: peachy-pink, cream, white, black, purple, red…
:)
i lost my purse today.but then, when i thought i would never see it again-some old woman had come to the door,to return it..yhe moral of the story-
there are some honest people out there….
maybe not such good writers..
just late,playing around…
walking through the busy streets of mumbai, i realised tht my purse was still on my shoulder but my wallet was gone!!
“Stop him! He’s got my purse!” she yelped, flailing belligerently. “That son of a bitch has got my purse!”
But they all just stared at her. Slowly, they approached. They began to beat her about the face and hands. She cried, “What? WHAT?!”
this time it’s over. she has invaded my privacy too many times to be forgiven. it was my purse. how can she do that. she might be my mom, but still it is my purse. she can’t do that right? maybe i’ll sue her for it….can i sue her?
I stole her purse. I did not regret it. It was quick…like an orgasm. It felt good, the power to inflict fear in others. The power the strength. My morals couldn’t keep up, left in the dust with the woman sobbing. I stole her purse.
I was walking on the sidewalk towards the grocery store, when i saw a purse on the ground. It was small, brown and made of leather. I looked around before picking it up quickly, and opened it to see there’s nothing inside. In anger, i threw the purse onto the road and walked on.
Today I found a purse on the side of the road. I opened it up, to check for money, of course. It was empty. Except for a banana and a sport sock. It was bizarre. I took the banana out and checked it for signs of rotting or tampering. It looked good to me so I ate it. It tasted a little funny. But hey, free banana. I had no need for the sock or purse.
i love to shop. sometimes i think i have a problem… i would really like a new spring purse…
As Molly reached into her purse to pull out the dollar bill, her cell phone rang. She answered it. “Hello?” she asked.
“HI MOM!” her daughter’s voice rang over the speaker. “DADDY TAUGHT ME HOW TO TALK TO YOU ON THE PHONE!”