Last night: TV was on and I was doing a little hand sewing. I hear Bob Dylan's voice and music coming from the TV. I look up. It's an ad for Victoria's Secret.

I shake my head and check the contents of my glass, but no. I am sober and I am straight and that is Bob Dylan being used to advertise women's lingerie. For the past 30 years my friends have ridiculed me for my lewd fantasies involving me and the Bob. Is it possible that someone out there in advertising land thinks that 61-year-old skank is sexy? And sold the concept to a multi-million dollar industry that is, essentially, selling sexual fantasy? Because, let's be honest, Vicky's Secret makes stuff that barely fits and doesn't last. Bob Dylan? Sexual fantasy? To someone other than me?

Frightening. Very, very frightening. Disturbing, even.

Today on the train, I saw a new low in public grooming. A man. Shaving. Not once, but at least three times during the trip, this older gentleman (and I use the term sarcastically) took out an electric shaver and ran it across his face.

Is he obessive-compulsive, that he needed to do this more than once? He looked pretty close-shaven when he got on the train. Does he have Alzheimer's and just forgot that he'd already shaved? Three times?

I gave him the gaze of arched eyebrow and disdain for public grooming. He gave me a cheery smile. I fished for my camera, but he finished before I could get off a shot.

Bob? Dylan? Victoria's Secret salesman?

What a world, what a world.