candid shot of my drunk cousin.

(288) Things That I Packed For My Three-Day Weekend Trip

1. zero underwear. no. because putting it in the suitcase is a black hole of fictitious actions, like imaginary movement stuffed in a rusty can of now you must go forever-commando and/or attempt to tie a scarf around your loins like some kind of creative hippie

2. fourteen scarves

3. also seven infinity scarves

4. shoes that go best with an outfit I don’t own

5. three coats

6. but no raincoat and no umbrella

7. passport, birth certificate, driver’s license, Costco membership card, pictures of my dogs as proof that I’m a good person, twenty-seven American flags nine of which are bathrobes and four of which are thongs and eight of which are large canvas picnic blankets and six of which are onesie jumpers and none of which are yarmulkes because nothing says America like arbitrary hypocrisy

8. three socks

9. enough medical supplies to last a month because maybe a desert on I-64

10. zero hairbrushes. Fuck a hairbrush and fuck hair and maybe it’s time for us all to just give up on caring about anything ever hey look a scarf I forgot