Now let me tell you a story about The Bag. It's an upsetting story, but it's one that needs to be told. One weekday morning, about a year ago, I was riding the subway to work with my boyfriend and we were just talking, minding our own business when the subway pulled into one of the busiest stations along the route and the onslaught of riders got on. Because I have the best luck ever, I had the good fortune to be standing in front of a small group of three teenagers - two girls and a boy. While the two girls were chatting animatedly about something super important I'm sure, like who has a crush on who and who's having an affair with the principal, one of the girls bumped me (kinda) hard in my Marc Jacobs bag. I made some sort of disgusted sound and muttered something like "watch it" when the girl turned around and said something along the lines of "oh no you didn't." At this point my boyfriend, bless his heart, was looking at me with that pleading "please let this go and don't fly into an irrational rage" look,but I was fuming. Some of the details are blurry, but next thing I know we are yelling back and forth and I'm telling her that my (fake) Marc Jacobs bag is worth more than anything she owns and she's telling me that the bag is probably fake. It was fake, but how dare she think that! Next I'm shouting that I'm older and wiser and she should respect me and she's yelling back that she's 17 so why am I fighting with her? During this time, my boyfriend is still trying to pull me away and calm me down, but to no avail. As luck would have it, me and the three hoodlums got out at the same subway stop and we were still going at it when I pulled out my can of mace. Next thing I knew I was spraying the mace in their direction (it didn't even come close to hitting them) and backing up towards the stairs shouting that my uncle was a cop (not true) and my dad was a lawyer (not true either) and they were in big trouble. By the time I got to work I was so flustered by the whole situation that I was crying. I eventually calmed down and moved on, as best I could.

A month later as I was riding the subway to work alone, god smiled down on me again, and the two girls from that incident boarded the subway. They sat across from me and started giggling, calling out my name and mocking me. I kept my head in my book and pretended I didn't know they were talking to me. I was pretty proud of myself.

Song of the moment: The theme to "Growing Pains." I saw an interview with a few of the Seavers the other day and I haven't been able to get the song out of my head since. "Show me that smile again. Don't waste another minute on your cryin' . . . " Catchy, right?