Packing for a road trip when you're a relatively sane person is, in itself, a nerve-wracking task.
"Three pairs of underwear? I'll take four, just for good measure. Now, which shoes. Do I want sensible, or sophisticated? I guess I'll take both. Oh, better not forget the shampoo. I'll bring these convenient, and adorable travel-size bottles. And the same with the toothpaste..."
Packing for a road trip when you're a person who...a person like me, is a new level of weird.
"Toothbrush, hairbrush, underpants...shit. Do I have enough clean underwear to pack for this adventure? Do I own enough underwear to pack for this adventure? Ok, pack this relatively non-skanky pair of underpants, along with a note that says "buy new underpants." That way it will look more like a shopping spree, than a weirdo who only owns four pairs of underpants.
Oooh kaaaay, toothpaste. Oh, yeah, I don't use toothpaste. How the hell do I pack a salt-shaker full of baking soda without it spilling all over the place? I guess I could just wedge it in there, and keep my bag upright. Deodorant...shit. This looks like a big tub of cocaine, with a kabuki brush in it. Oh well...no one will have to actually watch me put it on. I'll just hide it under the "toothpaste" powder.
Pajamas. Fuck me, I don't own pajamas, either? I can't share a room with other people, and sleep in the nude. What if we have to share a bed? Goddammit. Add "buy pajamas" to the underwear list.
Shampoo. This looks like a solidified bar of shit. How the fuck do I explain rubbing a solidified bar of shit on my hair, let alone having a solidified bar of shit in my make up bag? I'll just hide it in this brown paper bag. Ok, conditioner. Well goddammit again! Do I mix up an empty jar with vinegar and coffee, and pretend it's an energy drink, or do I just skip the conditioner?
Fuck me, I just want to get this over with, and get to the fun stuff...*sigh*
Ok, skip the vinegar stuff, and I'll just pack this solid conditioner...that vaguely resembles baby turds.
All of my hair products resemble poop. I can't pack this crap, and not expect to have a forty minute lecture on why my hair products resemble poop. Or cocaine...
This trip is costing me a goddamn fortune, and I haven't even started...
Alright, feminine hygiene thing-a-majigs...
I may, or may not be about to embark on the most humiliating road trip ever, with two women who may, or may not be physically repulsed to sit next to me, once they see the crazy shit in my bag...