thought dustbunnies

Why is it (I often ask myself) that there is a vent on the front of my vacuum cleaner? I mean, I get it, it's a vacuum, so the air on the inside needs to go somewhere else so an actual vacuum is created, but why send air out the front of the vacuum, towards the dust I am trying to suck up inside the vacuum, invariably sending the dust into the far reaches of my apartment where the vacuum has not the power to reach?

[I'm thinking of this post as that vent. Scattering my thought dustbunnies all over the page.]

I walked into work the other day, carrying my Shitty Nine West Bag That Looks Nice On The Outside But On The Inside It's Armageddon, and the girl in front of me was carrying the exact same bag! Impressive, since I bought the bag 100 years ago. (The lining fell out about 50 years ago.) I wanted to ask the girl if her lining fell out, too, but it was too early in the morning for my brain to process more than "Look! Twin bag!"

It was snowy in New York the other day, and I took that as an opportunity to wear my new galoshes. May I make a recommendation? Don't wear galoshes in the snow. They're cold. They're very cold. Because they're rubber. And not remotely insulating. However, wearing them is like wearing lead weights on your ankles, so at least you get a workout, which, unfortunately, does nothing to warm up your feet.

Yesterday I was walking to the subway behind this guy who was Totally Manly. Just big, burly, leather-jacket wearing, sunglassed, Totally Cool Guy. And the scent wake he left behind him was just screaming Johnson's Baby Lotion.

I've decided on a name for my autobiography/dating book: 600 Alpha Males Later. Think it'll sell?

And a question to ponder: when is it acceptable to call someone "baby"? I'm not entirely sure I know the answer, but I do know that it's not "at the end of the first date."