Vince has coined this new phrase for the insane lakes that have been sprouting up on the corners of New York streets since the most recent Snowmageddon/Snowpocalypse. I’ve been smugly splashing through them in my nice rain boots that have a fleecy lining, which keep my tootsies warm and dry, while others who opted for the ‘fashion’ footwear navigate treacherous islands of ice or snow to perch on while trying to make it to safe ground.

So, naturally, I got my comeuppance yesterday for my smugness. As I was walking down Hudson Street in the West Village, on my way to host the pub crawl, I was suddenly showered in a huge spray of dirty brown snowmelt water from a passing cab. All over my nice clean jeans, my lovely purple coat, my nice wool hat (that luckily was pulled down and protected my face from the diseasewater), gross brown water enveloped me as the cab sped by. I won’t feel so smug tomorrow if someone goes ankle-deep in a curb pond.