I love to shop, obviously you know that if you’ve visited my blog before. Not that I ever need a reason to shop, but I really want my freaking boyfriend to purpose to me so I can start shopping for wedding supplies and items for our first home! So boyfriend if you’re reading this and are finally willing to marry me, I think this vintage ring is SO fanX5UJI2Gtastic! I would love to wear it on my left hand for the rest of my life…hint hint.
Don’t get me wrong- I watch Sex and The City. I never got why she wore a lot of shit on her head, or why she thought Chris Noth was remotely fuckable, but I still dug that slutty old lady who made all the cock puns. I’ve seen most of the episodes, I’ve drank booze and saw them with my ‘girlfriends’ and at one point I concluded I may have been a Miranda even though I’m not a ginger bitch. However, there’s been something about the show that has been gnawing at me lately.
I’ve been out of college with a writing degree for almost a year now. I too, moved to NYC (well, Brooklyn, but I wear more skinny jeans than Charlotte) to pursue writing. And I’ve done pretty well with it, soo fucking whoop-de-do for me, but something’s been bothering me and I just need to get it off my chest:
Carrie Bradshaw, you gotta be tripping balls to have us believe that you can sustain yourself that extravagantly on that one stupid-ass column. You lying bitch!