Carrie Bradshaw is my idol.
No joke, Carrie was seriously my idol.
Before I met beardy, I was bound and determined to find my Mr. Big.

...but what is wrong with that sentence? Mr. Big was a guy that couldn't commit, finally did commit...(but with another woman!), had Carrie be the little floozy on the side and left poor Carrie at the alter.

Sex and the City has left single girls everywhere with an unrealistic view of love, oh, and  money and shoes.

Exhibit A.
Carrie's shoe addiction.

Carrie is a freelance/weekly columnist. How can a small newspaper pay her that much that she can afford Manolo?

Exhibit B.
Adian. Just...I can't.

Yes, I broke up with the man who I should have been with because I was cheating on him with my rich ex man friend. Adian, you're stupid. I love you, but damn.

Exhibit C.
Samantha's job. I know this doesn't have to do with relationships, but it has always bugged me. 

Everyone going into a Comm profesh degree says this at one point: "I want to do what Samantha Jones did in SATC" to which I have to say...Um, no? 
Being in PR is not as glamorous as that. There might be fab clients that you totally love, but it's a lot of grunt work. 
I worked as a PR intern type thing last semester and it was HELL.
Late nights, no swanky parties and I am pretty sure that's how I got my grey hairs.
Think more like Devil Wears Prada and that's what PR is like. 
(PS: It's hard to find pictures of Sam Jones with no f-bombs.) 

Hokay, back to love.
Exhibit D.
Big leaving Carrie at the alter. 

Raise your hand and let me know if you would take him back after he left you sitting there in a Viv Westwood dress with a bird on you head waiting.... and waiting...

Did SATC give you unrealistic expectations? In what?



Things I would rather be doing instead of watching the MTV Movie Awards....

Remember back in the day the MTV Movie Awards were entertaining and actually...semi good? This year was atrocious. 

Rebel Wilson was not funny. The jokes were gross and wayy too much about crotches... I don't care to see Seth Rogan's bush. (If you don't know what I am talking about...be happy you don't...) 

No romantic kiss a-la Rachel and Ryan... 

The only thing worth watching was The Catching Fire teaser and that was at the end...well played, MTV... 

I would rather been taking a Stats test. 
I would rather been feeding killer ducks. 
I would rather shave my head. 
I would rather watch Dora with my goddaughter. 
I would rather listen to Love Me Like a Love Song by Selenz on repeat. (I loathe that song.)
I would rather drive Warhol to the vet. 
I would rather be at the dentist. 

...you know it was bad if I say that. 

Did you like the MTV Movie Awards? Or is it pretty pointless?


...i can't believe i am telling you this

As I was driving this morning, I was thinking about possible blog posts...mostly because I have been so busy, driving may be the only time I can think about blogging. I am a pretty private person, but today I thought I would let you into my life a little more.

I am obsessed with Miley Cyrus (circa her long azz hair).

I am afraid of birds, especially ducks oh and anything that can step on me. 

Two of my bottom front teeth are broken. I have no idea how I did it and I can't afford to fix it. 

I will never go to my high school reunions. I hated school. 

...I cry during the last episode of Boy Meets World. 

I double check my flat iron to see if it's off in the morning. I have an irrational fear of my house burning down. (See: I may have OCD.)

My cats wear sweaters. 

I secretly judge you if you're wearing leggings as pants. 
...and if you drink before 5 pm on weekdays. (kidding. sort of.)

My favorite movie is Van Wilder. I say it's Casablanca, but who am I kidding?

I see a therapist once a week and have been since 2000. 

I have a crush on John Stamos, Hector Elizondo and Stanley Tucci. 

I am jealous of you that can afford Tory Burch, Marc Jacobs and LV. 

I am very uncomfortable in my own skin.

I am clinically depressed.

I kind of sort of hate shopping. 

I am scared of the future. I am afraid I'll fail.

Tell me a deep dark secret.