my first choice for an anti-wallet is the neighborhood couch, for its ability to multiply loose change and other lost objects, as well as my affinity for the color as an accessory. unfortunately, it has been missing from the block for nigh on two days, which leads me to:
my second choice... my cowgirl boot.
it will not be worn.
...

after some thought, i gave my initial concept to use my boot the boot, deciding it was too easy. the real lesson here, as above stated in the title, is the re-appreciation of the convenience and privacy that a wallet or purse affords.

i have a five year old hamilton beach blender.

day one.
11.21.06

i was running late for work the first morning, partially due to the evidence i was attempting to procure for this project, and i didn't save time to clean the blender before i left. as i loaded it up with my personal effects, a mini notepad to record anecdotes from the day, pencil, cell phone, powder, lotion, chapstick, tampons and keys (there’s actually not a whole lot of room in a blender for a collection of non-liquids), i noticed something on the blade. at first i thought it was old crusty food, knowing that the last person who used it was most likely my old roommate. sarah often used my blender to make hummus but somehow didn't know what "cleaning" meant in any form, be it personally and/or hygienically related, or affiliated with actually cleaning something in the apartment. but, lucky for me, it turned out that the blade was just rusty! the base of the blender with all the fun buttons was kind of sticky, but other than that, i was ready to go!

my new purse tucked into my elbow when i carried it. the cord was a bit unruly, and because the glass pitcher is removable from the base, i almost dropped it several times throughout this venture. as i came into work that morning, i was carrying my lunch, travel mug coffee, and my camera in addition to my purse. as i casually strolled to my desk at 9 am sharp, the pitcher shifted and dislocated from the base. the overflow of personal belongings meant the lid wouldn’t close properly and when the pitcher shifted the lid flew off, inciting an "uh-oh!" from a co-worker i've never seen or met before, which isn't unusual because i temp. she picked up the lid for me, and i only spilled a little coffee on the floor. i wasn't worried about the cleanup, though(i temp at an ad agency in a warehouse with constructivist/modern décor, there are high ceilings with exposed pipe, steel beams, and air ducts, and huge orange light fixtures, and the floors are concrete). my co-worker left without the slightest inquisitive glance at my new purse. i felt a little disappointed about that.

as the first day passed, i felt an inclination to name my anti-wallet. i've never felt like this about a standard purse, but somehow, this hamilton beach blender is more than a purse, or a wallet. it's a fender. a fender against droning boredom incited from regular wallets, against the suffocating scent of unchanged patterns, and the death inducing stigma of normalcy... so, the 'f' from fender inspired an 'f' name, Fiona, Frida, Fabio, Fynn, Flora... maybe not... Hammie.

diane, my co-worker, took my picture with Hammie, and asked about it. when i told her it was my purse, she laughed and told me not to turn it on. sage advice. i continued to explain sf0; she nodded and smiled.

one of my favorite moments of this venture occurred after i got in my car to leave work. now, you’ve got to know that i pretty much always carry a purse with me. inside, i inevitably have my wallet, pens, old receipts, odds and ends, some makeup, and of course my ball and chain (cell phone). because i always carry my purse, i associate it almost synonymously with what is inside of it. so, i had to laugh at myself tuesday when i got in my car, which took a little extra finesse with Hammie, started the engine, realized i wanted to make some phone calls, and was startled for an instant when i realized, “shit, i don’t have my purse,” (the one i usually carry around) which would have my cell phone in it. then i bust up because Hammie was visibly right next to me on the passenger seat. my brain just wasn’t used to associating it with its newly awarded function. i sighed, gave Hammie a loving pat, removed my cell from the pitcher, and laughed at myself all the way to dinner.

i brought Hammie to dinner in silverlake with my family. my brother, my two aunts, two uncles and cousin, were there. we were a party of eight, Hammie and i included. Hammie had its own chair, too. my uncle tom and the waitress at dinner became the second and third person to advise me not to 'turn on' my anti-wallet. it was fun to be out and about in public with Hammie.

day two.
11.22.06

i didn't expect the fact that Hammie is modular to create so much almost-havoc. i usually carried it cradled in my right arm. however, if held too low or too high, my elbow and waist lined up with where the pitcher rested in the base causing the apparatus to dislocate when i moved. this caused me, on this particular morning on the way to work, to make my first sacrifice for sf0. the pitcher shifted on me twice that morning. the first time i was going down the stairs outside my apartment, i stabilized the pitcher just as it dislodged from the base. not so bad. the second time i was walking in the door at work. the glass pitcher dislocated and in order to save it from falling and shattering, i let go of my coffee. the receptionist, while helping me clean up remarked that it was not a good day to bring my blender to work. i resisted the urge to rebuke her for her remarks against Hammie. then i had to drink sludgy work coffee, instead of the smooth blend my good friend got me in mexico. (you might note that i also spilled some of my coffee the day before. this time, i watched, as if in slow motion, as my silver travel mug fell to the ground. upon impact the lid popped off, freeing thousands of droplets of brown, caffeinated goodness into the wild.)

i think it was Hammie's way of getting back at me. that morning, i absentmindedly put my cash in my pocket and not in Hammie. i don’t carry cash very often! Hammie had everything else: phone, driver’s license, keys, purpose. it was an accident; i forgot about the cash! after the accident, i carefully placed the cash inside the glass walls of Hammie's pitcher.

because it was the day before thanksgiving, i was only at work for half the day. i met my boyfriend for breakfast at s & w in culver city. our waitress liked Hammie, and liked my 1977 olympus om-1 that i was using to document. jim and i had some errands to run after breakfast. we went to borders, which was unfortunately and indubitably relatively uneventful. the cashier smiled at Hammie. next we went to amoeba in hollywood. most people have to check bags or satchels when they go in, but there was a sign that said one didn't have to check wallets. so, i announced that Hammie was my wallet, and confidently proceeded into the store. as i walked away i heard someone proclaim, "that girl in the brown sweater is carrying a blender for a wallet!" jim and i ran into our friend josh who works at amoeba, and he was the fourth person to advise me not to turn on Hammie while it's full. several people throughout the store asked me about Hammie, and i told them about sf0.

Several hours later we went to sushi mac for dinner and Hammie was old hat by then. the pitcher had dislodged several more times, but at least i wasn’t carrying scorching liquids anymore. i figured since the next day was thanksgiving, this would be its last outing. i think Hammie was enjoying itself. it seemed happy by the shrimpies and wasabi.

later that night, Hammie and i drove to santa maria to see my dad for thanksgiving.

day three.
11.23.06

my third day of blenderdom, thanksgiving! i thought i wasn't even going to leave the house, rather uneventful. Hammie was perched on the counter in the kitchen, its old stomping grounds, so it could see the entire goings on of the meal prep. i thought it was funny that the place i would usually place my purse would also be considered an appropriate place for Hammie when performing its customary functions. i was a little disappointed that i had chosen such timing for this project which really requires lots of outings. [as i was learning to navigate the sf0 media subsector, i accidentally submitted proof for this without meaning to, and couldn't figure out how to take it back. so, i decided to start it immediately thereafter, thus leaving the third day of my venture: turkey day.] luckily for Hammie, my dad and i had to make a last minute wild dash to the store for chicken broth and pearl onions!!! carrying Hammie around in los angeles often incited quizzical looks, curious smiles, and several polite questions, but santa maria was not quite ready for my kitchen couture. my dad asked me to pay for the food so that he could take my picture at the register in vons, paying from Hammie. as i paid, i didn't mention anything out of the ordinary, and was looking for a reaction out of the cashier when my dad said to the middle aged woman bagging our groceries, "that's her purse."
the cashier smiled.
a young passerby stopped to see, and broke into a wide grin, and even giggled a little, enjoying the spectacle.
but the woman bagging our broth and onions just stared at me, her mouth agape in horror and indignation. she bore into my soul with that look.
"that's your purse?" she accused me.
"yes." i innocently smiled back at her.
"that's your purse?" she repeated, as if she had not heard correctly, as if i were a little slow, as if i were defying her right to exist in a universe where a kitchen accessory is only a kitchen accessory and a handbag is defined as a 'bag or box of leather, fabric, plastic, or the like, held in the hand or carried by means of a handle or strap, commonly used by women for holding money, toilet articles, small purchases'...

after a brief explanation of my anti-wallet freedom venture, i bid my farewell. "happy thanksgiving," i offered. the cashier and young passerby replied the same in earnest, but i fear the grocery bagger would not accept my well wishes. it, clearly, was not a happy day at all if a person would carry a blender to the grocery store. that which we call a purse, By any other name(or form), would not suffice. this, for obvious reasons, was the highlight of my venture.

the next day my dad and i headed to the movies, i with my money and chapstick comfortably stowed in my pockets. when my dad found out Hammie wasn't coming with us, he cast a look of boyish disappointment towards it as we left the house. i think he was hoping for a repeat of santa maria hospitality. i, however, had a renewed sense of freedom indeed.