Introducing the Z Kit

This post is probably going to wander all over the place for a bit, so bear with me.

A while back, I commented on my love for gadgets and my desire to keep them with my laptop in what I called a Rob Liefeld Bag: all pouches and flaps and zippers and compartments so that each tool and gewgaw could nest in its own cozy little bed. I was all set to get this bag, and then when I was ready to order one it turned out the price had gone up. It wasn't by much, but when combined with shipping & handling it reached the critical tipping point known as "Screw this, I'll go to Target and get my #2 choice," which, as luck would have it, just happened to be on sale that weekend.

Behold my Rob Liefeld Bag: the Swissgear SA9259. It didn't have everything that I ever wanted in a bag, but it has some nice features:

1. Padded laptop sleeve
2. Padded back with airflow system (this is Florida, sweat is a fact of life here)
3. The ability to completely swallow a 1-liter bottle in each of its side zippered pockets
4. Lots of pouches and flaps and zippers
5. And of course, it was here and on sale.

So, yeah. It carries stuff (seriously... a LOT of stuff), looks sufficiently Liefeldian, and balances nicely on my shoulders. It even holds all my crap with room to spare. Problem solved, case closed, right?

If you thought it would be that easy, just slap yourself now, because you so don't know me. I am Miss Complication.

The problem, you see, was that I realized I could fit a lot more crap in there, and make it much more useful. I could, in fact, turn the RLB into my James Bond Kit Mark II. (Because if it's useful now, then cramming it with twice as much crap makes it twice as useful, and that's logic.) So, amused by this notion, I added all my doohickeys. And I still had room.

And that, doctor, is how the madness began, because not long after that I started to develop... I don't know, "compulsion" is too harsh a word, so let's try "lust" instead ... to make this bag as optimal as possible for any contingency. Somewhere during this hobby-madness, I realized that what I was actually creating was what some call a Bug-Out Bag or a Go-Bag, but if that was the case then what am I doing with a Kukri Machete and snare wire? Do I chalk this up to having watched too much Man vs. Wild and Survivorman on Discovery Channel? Am I basically a bored hobbyist with too much free time on her hands, and losing myself in the creation of this kit is my way of dealing with loss and depression?

Well, yeah, that would be the reasonable assumption. It's probably even the correct diagnosis. But that doesn't feel geeky enough for my tastes, and so I offer you this alternate viewpoint: Somewhere along the way I realized that I was assembling a modern-day version of the classic Dungeon Delver backpack, complete with Iron Rations (MREs), torches (flashlight) and flint & steel (magnesium firestarter). Which is much cooler, and explains a lot, because I am the type of person who, upon gaining a Handy Haversack of Heward in a game of D&D, will immediately work out how much I can carry and where ("Ooh! I can fit an entire tent in the left side pocket! I'll do just that!"), partly because I've had strict and lethal DM's of both the "If it's not written down you can't have it" and "I can't believe you actually fit that in there, let me see your volume assignments" variety, and partly because it's a fun mini-game.

(Also, I once stuffed a dead PC halfling into the main pocket, and that was worth a few giggles. )

But, it could be argued, why am I making a Dungeon Delve kit when there are no nearby dungeons into which I could delve, and indeed even if there were, would I so do? (No.) And then the meaning to my madness was revealed to me. You see, what I was really making was a Zombie Survival Kit.

Yes, I really am that big of a dork.

However, let me qualify myself before you think too poorly of me. Do I really think the undead will rise from their graves to devour the living? No. However, a kit which is designed for surviving an undead apocalypse will also serve admirably in event of natural disaster (Florida has tons of them) or terrorist attack (God forbid).

And that's why I listen to those little nagging voices in the back of my head, folks. Because even if I'm wrong, this is a good thing to have. Even if I lose interest in building the perfect Z Kit, it will still be good if I ever need it.

And perhaps most importantly, it gives me blogfodder that I can stretch out over days, maybe even a week, as I talk about the various aspects of my Z Kit, and how it relates to both D&D and modern survival. Because I'm passionate about this, I can use it to pad my postcount while still passing it off as a "legitimate" blog post.


Tomorrow: My Cold Steel Kukri Machete, aka "Why I don't need a poleaxe to kill zombies." (I still crave it, though.)

That's my bag, baby

Today seems to be a good day for follow-ups to previous posts. In my search for the perfect Rob Liefeld Bag, many readers pointed me towards ThinkGeek, and while I didn't find my perfect RLB there, along the way I happened upon this sexy little number:



















Is that not the coolest thing you have ever seen? I showed this to new bestie Jean Bauhaus, whose response was: "That is freakin' awesome. I want one."

There you have it, guys: Not only does it look badass while you wear it like a holster, you will also make women envious when you wear it. Done right, you might be able to get dates with this thing.

Wear a suit all day? Use the Shoulder Holster version instead. Not only will you feel like James Bond, but it will keep all your crap from ruining the smooth lines of your trousers.


But on to the main point of my post. I believe that I have found my perfect Rob Liefeld Bag:



This beast is a 3131 MOLLE Tactical Computer Briefcase. Quoting shamelessly from the ad copy:

Polyester. PVC coated lining. Large expandable main compartment. Assorted gear pockets and MOLLE loops. Interior identification pocket. 3 detachable MOLLE pouches on front of bag. Padded laptop computer sleeve with hook & loop closure. Zippered map / document pocket with MOLLE loops on back side of case. Adjustable and fully removable padded shoulder straps. Black colored bag. Dimensions: 20.5" x 7.75" x 15" (inches). Approximate weight: 4.00 pounds. Price: $55.00

Now, what is awesome about this animal is the phrase "MOLLE loops on back side of case." This means that I can buy additional pouches -- like this bad boy here -- and then put them on the other side of the case. I suspect I might be able to fit a pouch on either end, as well. Plus there are those slot thingies on the top of the flap. When I am done, it will look like someone bukkakke'd pouches all over my bag. Because I am a pouchwhore.

As a friend said, "Personally, I envision you adding more and more pouches to this until you are your very own bunker, the weight pulling you over, shuffling along under a roughly hemispheric mound of pouches..."

Which of course is just silly. I'd mount wheels to it and roll smoothly along instead of shuffling.

The James Bond Kit

Those of you who are following my Twitter feed are no doubt aware that a week ago I received, as an early birthday present, a shiny new laptop: an Acer Aspire 5515. Unfortunately, it runs Vista; fortunately, it has 3 gigs of RAM so it's actually fast enough to run that beast at a decent speed. But its best feature, as far as I'm concerned, is an inbuilt wi-fi, because that means I can now escape to the nearest library or coffee shop and write without the constant distractions of my family, whom I love dearly except when they're bothering me.

However, there is one small, almost trifling problem: this laptop is too big to fit my old (non-wi-fi) laptop case.

You'd think this wouldn't be a problem. It gives me an opportunity to shop for accessories, and according to cliche', that's what women live for. And I do like looking for the right bag. The problem, my dears, is that I can't find what I'm looking for.

When I was 6 or 7, my parents took me to see my very first James Bond film, and like most children I was immediately captivated by all the gadgets. Not only by how nifty they were, but how small they were as well (this was years before the Transformers came out, by the way), and how they were used at precisely the right time.... oh, Eddie Izzard explains it much better than I:



Yes, quite. So anyway, after seeing this James Bond movie, one of my first acts was to go home and assemble what I called a James Bond Kit. It sounds impressive, sure, but really it was just an old tote bag filled with various toys that I thought could be marginally useful in a James Bond style scenario:

• a cheap flashlight
• a plastic canteen
• a toy compass
  
• a toy knife
• a jump-rope, which I could turn into a lasso, or tie someone up with, or use as a garrote
  
• a set of my mother's old crochet hooks, which I thought looked a little bit like lock picks
• some jacks, which I thought could make dandy caltrops

As you can see, it rather failed at being truly James Bond-ish, but you can't deny the thinking that went into it: These are things I think will be useful in a pinch, and I want them all in an easy-to-carry bag. I'd also like to note for completeness' sake that I spent my elementary school years on military bases in Europe during the Cold War, so that also helps explains why my kit was closer to a half-asses Boy Scout's rucksack than actual cool super-spy gear.

No joke: I actually grew up afraid that one day, we'd get a call in the middle of the night that the Russians were pouring across the borders, and that I'd have to abandon my dog and my toys to go hide in the countryside while my father went off to war. That probably explains quite a lot about me and my quirks.

Now, fast-forward many years. I'm older and more sophisticated, but I still haven't outgrown the notion of a James Bond kit. Nowadays, I have a backpack that I take most places (hanging rakishly off one shoulder, natch) that contains the following:

• first aid kit
• sewing kit
• duct tape
• electrical tape
• Leatherman tool
• wire cuttters/strippers
• 15-in-1 screwdriver/ratchet
• Swiss Army knife
• Husky multi-wrench
• carbide-blade pocket saw
• wrench thingie offered with above (sometimes you need 2 wrenches, amirite?)
  
• Emergency Pro hand-crank flashlight/cell phone charger
• portable World Band radio (chargeable with above item)

Then there's the stuff in the trunk of my car:

• bolt cutters
• survival blanket/tarp/poncho
• entrenching tool
• big-ass Mag Light flashlight

I don't do this out of paranoia. I'm not afraid that at some point I'll need to flee civilization and survive in the wild for years. (If I did, I'd own an off-road vehicle, and it would have camping gear and rations in it.) No, I just kind of pick this stuff up, because it seems nifty and useful and, well, James Bond-ish.

Which brings us back to my quest for the proper bag for my laptop. You see, it can't JUST hold my laptop; it also needs to hold all my other crap, too, because at this point I'm carrying several pounds of metal and I'm starting to get funny looks when I set my bag down and it goes clink.

I want a bag that can hold all this stuff, but more importantly, it can't just be thrown in there. Oh no. Because, you see, this is a JAMES BOND KIT, and that can't be girly. Stuff just tossed into the main pocket? Exceptionally girly, because that's just an oversize purse.

I want something that's tough. Utilitarian. Military. Perhaps even ridiculously macho.

I want this sucker to have reinforced grommets. I want it to be made from ripstop nylon. I want it waterproof, rainproof, bulletproof if possible. I want my laptop to be cradled in a shockproof cocoon of foam rubber. And I want it to have dozens, perhaps hundreds, of pouches, snaps, tie-downs, pockets, and those expandable holdy-things that can hold a 2 liter soda bottle but compress into a slot the size of a credit card.







God help me, I want a computer bag designed by Rob Liefeld, because there is something just obscenely decadent about each tool having its own little pocket, snuggled up asleep in an individual cocoon.

... okay, on second thought, having a little nest for every tool is actually pretty girly after all. I would indeed tuck them each into place, like a mother putting her children to bed at night. But I digress...

Still, the problem with desiring a Rob Liefeld Bag is that, much like his anatomical drawing, such things are clearly impossible to find in real life.

So I turn to you, my dear readers, to help me find the nearest equivalent of a Rob Liefeld Bag for my James Bond Laptop Kit. It doesn't even have to be an actual laptop bag (in fact, I'm pretty sure it won't, as those seem restricted to either "oversized purse" or "leather attache case" categories); I'm fine with repurposing bags designed for other uses.

So far, the closest I have come to fulfilling my design aesthetic is a SWAT Bag, but even that not quite what I want. I definitely feel that military surplus is the way to go, but am willing to consider other options (like what they transport camera lenses in) as long as they satisfy my "tons of pockets" needs.



Color, of course, needs to be either gray or black.

Price should be in the "expensive, because you're paying for quality" range, but lower than "Oh my God you paid HOW MUCH?",
which is probably in the $50 - $100 range.

I can't really promise any fabulous prizes for helping me find my ideal Rob Liefeld Bag, but as longtime reader Nathan Tamayo will attest, if you do something nice for me, I do something nice in return. So send me your ideas, your links, your witty comments, and not only will I write a follow-up post containing the best of these, but I will do or give something quite spiffy to the winner.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go put on my jam trousers.