Silly rabbit, Vera Bradley's for fogues!

What is up with Vera Bradley bags? For some reason young women east of the Mississippi are obsessed with them. They look like rolled-up quilts with zippers, I shit you not. Why, people? They look like something a grandma would carry... and even my Grandma has better fashion sense than that! My illustrious ex-roomie (who is, like me, a West Coast girl) mused that these girls are carrying them to practice for when they're boring housewives who actually find those bags stylish. My spinning instructor had one yesterday. She had long highlighted hair, black leggings tucked into Ugg boots, and... the ugliest calico hag bag Ms. Bradley could conceive.

Maybe it's a handicap thing. In her book "Survival of the Prettiest," Nancy Etkoff suggests that women who smoke are sexy because they are advertising their strong genes. If their genetics can allow them to smoke and look good, then they must be worth mating with. Similarly, really cool, classy, attractive girls might carry Vera Bradley to say to potential mates, "I'm so amazing that I can wear this nasty trash and still look good." Sadly, like smoking, they can't.

Takeoffs and Landings

Airplane bathrooms are like points on Drew Carey's show "Whose Line is it Anyway?" They don't matter. Think about it: most people use airports only once or twice a year, and some people have several airports in their metro area, so they won't travel through the same one very often. Certainly not often enough to remember which airports have the shitty bathrooms (figuratively).

I have lived in two of these extended metro areas (SF and DC) and I ended up flying through Dulles about four times a year over the last two plus years. Add it up: that's a lot of times this psychogenic polydipseic has been sitting on the Dulles toilets and getting splashed by the premature flush that always accompanies my attempts. They're awful! The little infrared sensor that's supposed to keep things hygienic and hands-free is tripped to flush at the worst possible moment, which ends up being way more of a nasty bacteria spreader than a simple flush handle would be. Use your feet to flush, people! There are bathrooms now where everything is sensor driven, right down to the soap dispenser. Add a bidet and the bathroom experience would be 100% hands free.

Here is my guide to airport bathrooms. It's not all-encompassing in the least; I wish I were more of a jet-setter, but the reality of it is I'm a working girl who ends up in weird places for weird reasons.

Montgomery, AL: Award for "Most Original Seat Cover." This airport has a weird automatic seat cover mechanism, and I can't decide if it's cutting edge, or a throwback from the time when "the future was plastics." The seat is covered entirely by a tubular hairnet, and when you're done you press a button and the plastic you used goes away and a new plastic cover snakes on. It's unreal.

Dulles International, DC: Dubiously clean, and the toilets are hellbent on turning your peeing experience into a revival of Kevin Costner's "Waterworld." F

Chicago/Midway, IL: Wow. What an experience. The stalls are as big and private as a Nordstrom dressing room, and there was room for both of my huge bags, which I insist on carrying on, because I hate checking baggage. Usually I end up dragging my luggage into the handicapped stall because the loudspeaker lady admonishes me not to leave my bags unattended... and then I have to hurry and avoid direct eye contact with fellow bathroom patrons so as to avoid the hateful glares I recieve when I emerge, and I'm obviously not handicapped (except by my too-big carryons).

Trying to be cool

I made a mistake when I signed up for the Ironman next summer. Not the way you think, I'm still glad I'm registered. No, I'm referring to the box where you put your profession. I think I put medical student or something similar, mundane and true. Those in the know, however, put something outlandish and awesome. Examples:

Jeoffrey McCoombs, "lion tamer"
Andrew Owen, "Rugby analyst"
What? Okay... my favorite was "chocolate quality inspector" though.

Next year maybe I'll put "hand model" or "Mr. Jeans Shorts Inventor." Assuming there is a next year :o)

Smith vs. Snow

One thing is true: there is nothing valuable about snow. The way I see it, snow is water that's biounavailable. It's beauty is fleeting; if it sticks around for more than a day is becomes grayer and uglier than Momma's hair from "Momma's Family." Or if the sun comes out, it melts into a slippery layer of ice, rendering wintertime running impossible.

I went out for a run today on my favorite route, the Capitol Crescent Trail, and I got about half a mile into it when I had to stop: the whole trail was covered with nasty iciness. I turned and ran the other way up the trail, only to meet the same sight a mile up that way. Resignedly, I turned home and fought my way through the cold. (Did I mention it's cold?) What a waste! I don't know why they even bother selling cold weather running gear here. They should sell crutches and splints for the broken legs you'll get attempting to run on the ice.

Another potentially bad thing about my run. Before I left, I was debating whether or not to wear this hat my roomie lent me. I wanted something to cover my ears, but the hat didn't really do the trick. I think she thought I didn't want to wear it because it looked silly, though. She tried to convince me to wear it, and I kept refusing, until she finally relented and said, "Alli, you're so Californian." I think it might have been an insult.