As I left my apartment Friday morning for work—not my Sex and the City job mind you, but a standardized patient shift (if you don’t know what that is, check out this post from 10.20.11)—I was particularly jazzed about my commute. My gig was in the Bronx, a good hour and forty-five minutes from where… Read more »
Anyone who has ever given me a haphazard pat on the back knows the consequences of that simple gesture. Touching my back—out of necessity or concern or coincidence—means subjecting yourself to one of my full meltdowns. Literally I melt—my spine curves into a hump, my shoulder blades poke upward, and my chin falls to my… Read more »
There is a reason why I live in an apartment in New York, a reason that goes far beyond the reaches of Sex and the City, a reason so old and so dear it is now imprinted in my DNA. *** My father’s siblings, four in all, are a special lot, wholly different than my… Read more »
In this country, it is generally assumed that mothers are egregiously under-appreciated. No one really knows how much good work they do and how tirelessly they do it—not the fathers of their children and certainly not the children themselves. No one but fellow mothers know the heartache, worry, sacrifice, and exhaustion they continuously grin and… Read more »
Last August, when I told a friend that I was starting a blog detailing the overlaps between my own real life and that of the fictional Carrie Bradshaw, there was an awkward pause. “What?” I said, “The similarities are a perfect framing device for a blog.” After all, I am a writer in my early… Read more »
I am endlessly defending the validity and realism of Sex and the City* in this column, and so this week I thought I’d change things up and try to expose one of its flaws. I didn’t have to think about it for too long. There is one seemingly horrible misrepresentation, one fraudulent, grotesque, Hollywood aspect of the… Read more »
Apparently there are other Almost Carries out there, and they are idiots. This past week the New York Post featured an article co-written by two women named Julia. I feel that I must paste it here in its entirety for you to really get the full gist: Martinis. Manolo Blahniks. Fabulous Park Avenue apartments and, of… Read more »
