When your life becomes SATC episodes...

[Warning: highly flaky, "girly" post up ahead. Skip today if you still want to believe that I'm intelligent.]

A scary thing happened to me this past week. I've always appreciated the humour and just general awesomeness of Sex and the City, careful to note that it is FICTION and not in fact, realistic in any way, shape or form. (Come on, she writes for a column in a second-tier newspaper but wears Oscar de la Renta couture? Riiiiight...) But recently, I've come to the understanding that these seemingly silly (and sometime outrageous) storylines actually happen in real life! (*gasp* Can you imagine?) A couple examples of how events in my life are starting to make it feel like a bad mashup of SATC episodes...

"+1"
So my gal pals C and S (didn't get their permission so I'm using initials) are both getting married this summer (not to each other--I figured I had to clarify since I live in San Francisco). I'm decidedly single. Both of them were kind enough to have "+ guest" (C telling me over the phone, S actually in writing on my invite), but now I've run into this problem of finding the right "+1". Remember that whole silly episode when Carrie was freaking out about Big being her "+1" and why he wouldn't sign the damn card on her wedding present. Well, I don't have a Mr. Big, but I'm definitely missing a +1. I think the resolution is to not have any +1's and be happy that I'm a 0!! :-)

The Old Woman and Her Shoes
I've always known that I've had a lot of shoes. Not too long ago, I've had to move my shoe collection out into the entry foyer of my apartment because it was sucking up too much closet space. I had to up my rental insurance because my shoes exceeded my personal coverage limits. Then I had to start cataloguing and photographing them. And now that I'm single, there are serious fears that I will just die in an earthquake under my pile of shoes as they collapse on me...I'd be that young-but-dead woman with her shoes.  AHHH! And yes, I can't afford a damn downpayment because all my money went to shoes...or it's because the fact that anything decent in San Francisco costs almost a million dollars...or both. But hey, at least I can do the math and I know that $400 X 100 is NOT four thousand. ;-)

Conclusion: I need to be like Samantha and get me a hot bf like Smith Jared. Hopefully before I turn 40 like her. Or 30 for that matter.